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Mad Apothecarist

Summary:

Petunia was maybe a bad person, however, she never thought of herself as someone cruel - so when she found a child on her doorstep and knew his life with her family would be horrid, she drove him to an orphanage.
Good for her, because that angry boy would rip her head clean of if she tried to make him into someone else than a rude genius.

Notes:

Do not own Harry Potter - but I did come up with this idea so please, don't steal.

Chapter 1: Introduction

Chapter Text

When Petunia opened the door on the 1st of November, she screamed in shock. On her porch laid a basket stuffed with a red blanket and a small child with a bleeding cut on its forehead. She picked it up, scared that the child would die because of the cold autumn morning. They were as cold as ice and paler than any baby she has ever seen. When she took it out of the wicker basket a letter fell out of their fingers because the baby tried to get closer to her heat.

On it was her name and address in strangely familiar writing, however, she couldn't put her finger on it. She ignored it for now and put the little kid on a couch and wrapped it in a fluffy blanket. They continued their sleep, but when she controlled their pulse, everything seemed ok – except for his chilly cheeks. Yes, she thought it was a boy, judging by his short dark hair and a shirt with a car on it.

After putting the baby into a much more comfortable sleeping position, she sat on an armchair and opened the plain-looking letter. Every word stabbed her heart and hurt her soul – maybe she hated Lily for more than ten years, however, she never wished her to be dead. Also, she cried for her nephew, who lost his parents and came into a family that couldn't love him enough.

Petunia knew she would always see her sister in him, even now she could see he took after her more than he took after his father. And Vernon… if he saw an ounce of magic in his house, he would most likely try to beat it out of him. He would be hated and maybe even abused – she knew who she wedded (and she adored Vernon's love for normal and bland). Lily's son wouldn't be normal, he would be a wizard.

So, after feeding her son and calling her friend to look after him, she tried to wake up her nephew, Harry Potter. He was cranky – not even Dudly was that bad after a nap and he was considered ‚the worst in the mornings‘ by everyone in her group of friends with children. He didn't cry but he made funny angry faces at her when she tried to feed him. „Me,“ he did grabby hands in the direction of his breakfast.

„Do you want to feed yourself?“ she raised her eyebrow.

„Yep,“ he gestured wildly and his scowl turned even deeper. „Only mommy can,“ he pouted and took the plastic spoon in his uncoordinated hand (Petunia had to stop another wave of tears). Although he was younger than his cousin, he could eat without too much mess and he even asked if she had a potty. Thankfully she did, even though Dudly still used his nappies. Harry inherited his mother's smartness, as was obvious.

After the morning ritual, she strapped him into the child carrier in her car and said bye-bye to her chubby son and her friend that hold him in her pale arms. „When are you going to arrive back?“ Maria asked but looked only at the dark-haired child with a surprisingly sharp gaze.

„In an hour or two – again I thank you for - “

„No problem dear. He needs you right now more than Dudly.“ The taller woman hugged her loosely with one hand and even though she could hear Duddly starting to tear up, she sat into the driver seat and drove away. She was kind of glad that Vernon had a work trip that week because he would probably make a lot more ruckus than needed.

In London she arrived in the first orphanage she could find on the map and took Harry out of his seat. He wasn't happy about being carried in her arms but he kept silent when she asked him to be nice. ‚Such a sweet boy…‘ Petunia thought with a small smile and knocked on the main door. She needn't wait for too long before a matron opened the door. She smiled at her with a fake smile.

„Hello, can I help you with something?“

„Hi, this is my nephew – his parents… you know… and I can't take care of him, unfortunately. Can I register him here?“

***

Harry James Potter became the youngest sibling to Maria Bundy, who was two years older than him, and Fridrich Bundy, a boy three years his senior. Both children were blond with blue eyes, just like their mother Samatha Bundy-Tylor. Her husband was a tall broad man with brown hair and eyes – Gregor Bundy looked surprisingly a lot like his adopted son.

The perpetually fussy boy was renamed to Henry James Bundy – his new mother purposefully named all her children like some of the more known rulers in the history. Harry was kept as a nickname by his parents – they left only his second name ‚untouched‘, even though neither of their children had one.

For two years after that, Henry was the youngest in the Bundy family – then he wasn't and another blond became the part of his family. Little Elizabeth, and year and a half after that Ludvik was born. The dark-haired boy thought that meant Fridrich and Maria would stop annoying him because he wouldn't be the youngest kid. But no, his siblings were cruel creatures and always enjoyed rallying the choleric sibling. Before school, it was only name-calling here and amateur fight there, however, in primary school they found better ways to bully Henry. Only, they became less sneaky about it, because in school nobody paid as much notice.

So, Samantha noticed and yelled at them, forbid any after-school activities for a week and made them apologise. Did it work? No, but they never again hurt him enough to make bruises. Wet Willys, nuggies and stealing things were a lot funnier to them anyway. And Henry wasn't an angel – not by any means, although his pranks were unnoticeable (at first). Sometimes he put the itchy powder into their clothes, sour powder into their lunch sandwiches, pins on their chairs, super-glued their things to floor or furniture… and if he got physical, he would only whack their heads or throw something at them.

Elizabeth became part of the blond part of sibling war and Ludvik tried to join Henry – but after cruel tongue lashing, he became a neutral party.

Even though his temper never failed to combust like a lit gasoline canister, he wasn't a physical type of person – he hated sports (unlike his older siblings that were part of any sports team in the school). He was very smart, most called him a genius, because of how quickly he could pick anything up – from math to languages. And in no way would you miss that part of him, as he wasn't humble about it.

His grades were spotless but he always turned up his nose on history and geography. Loudly. On the other hand, he loved biology, physics, chemistry and math – not only had he won many science competitions, but he also went to camps so he could be surrounded by smart people and not his siblings (who were in his opinion only slightly smarter than monkeys).

***

The day he turned eleven years old his father had a vacation – usually he worked so his big family could live comfortably (and his income as a lawyer help with that marginally). However, he never left for work when one of his children celebrated a birthday, so when someone ringed the doorbell, he was the one who opened the door.

Minerva McGonagall always asked Albus to let her see Harry Potter if he's doing ok (she never trusted those horrible muggles). He always smiled and told her that Harry is well cared for by his family and left it there – so she was really surprised when in the pile of letters she found an unusual name, familiar but also not. Henry James Bundy-Potter. Obviously, he was adopted and magic changed his name and only left Potter because he was the heir…

„Albus! What were you thinking, when you never checked on him, you stupid old man!“ Her Gaelic accent shined through her screaming. However, Dumbledore only smiled and offered her a lemon drop.

„The wards I set up fell after the New Year in '82, Minerva. I knew where he was – with a loving family like I always told you,“ he answered calmly, eyes shimmering madly. After she threw a few hexes on him, she planned a visit.

„Good morning, Mr Bundy – I came to offer your son Henry a place in our school,“ she said the beginning of her practised speech.

„Since when do schools send people?“ he asked with a curiously lifted eyebrow, but let her come in. „Henry! Come to the living room!“ he yelled and McGonagall jumped in surprise. Because of that, the tall men grinned at her. „Come with me, he should be there in five minutes.“

„Should I make tea?“ this time a female voice yelled. It reminded the old professor of the Weasley household – how many siblings does Harry have, if any?

„Mrs?“

„Yes please,“ she nodded and sat on a comfortable beige sofa with her back to the windows.

„So, which university are you trying to get him in?“ Gregor fell on the opposite couch without much elegance.

„University, Mr Bundy? He must be really smart.“

„He's a genius and I'm not bragging. So if not uni, what school are you trying to pitch?“

„Hogwarts, it's a boarding school.“

„I never heard of it.“

„Most people don't, because it's a school of witchcraft and wizardry.“ No emotion showed on his face before he blinked rapidly. „Well, it would explain some things… it always made him angry not to know why he could break the basic physics laws.“

‚Well, at least someone is calm and logical after that particular bomb.‘ Then Mrs Bundy came with a tray filled with cups and a teapot.

„Do you want sugar or cream?“ The pretty blond woman smiled at her.

„Neither, but thank you, Mrs Bundy.“

„Oh! I forgot to- sorry professor – my name is Gregor Bundy, nice to meet you.“ He extended a hand and she shook it without hesitation.

„Minerva McGonagall, nice to meet you too. And you too, Mrs Bundy.“

„Samatha is ok, professor.“ 

After that, a young man with a blond mop of hair, followed by a girl around the same age, came into the living room with icing on his cheek. „Hengry is dragging himself down the stairs,“ he said before they sat next to the fireplace on a fluffy rug in front of it.

„SHUT UP YOU FUCKING LIAR!“ Came an unexpected answer. The tendency to scream ‚Potter!‘ back was strong but she kept cool and waited for the parents. But they said nothing, only rolled their eyes. „I was awake, just needed to finish a chapter.“

„In your porn magazine?“ came a quick retaliation from his brother – before anyone could do anything, one of the cups went flying with murderous intent. Minerva quickly pulled out her wand and transfigured it into a soft pillow that hit the blond straight into the face.

„Cool. So, what do you want?“ He sat next to her, his front rotated to her and one leg on the couch. When Minerva saw his face, she wanted to cry – he looked so much like Lily (and completely different from the books, that described him as a carbon copy of his father only with his mother's eyes). He had her round face, freckles most noticeable across the nose and funnily enough the sticky-outy ears that the red-head always tried to hide behind her hair. The only things he inherited from his father was his dark brown hair, bad eye-sight and the mostly brown eyes. And his height, because Lily was one of the shortest firsties in her year.

The only thing the stories got right was his barely visible scar, hidden behind wispy bangs – it has been a long time since she knew someone with a bowl-cut, but he suited it for some reason.

„I came as a representative for Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry,“ she said, ignoring his rude behaviour that was obviously more than normal, judging by his parents' reaction. When he only squinted, she gave him the letter that he ripped open and quickly skimmed with hazel eyes.

His father broke the silence: „Read it aloud, buddy.“

„Sure dad. So: HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY. Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards). Dear Mr Bundy-Potter - That's my bio parents name, right?“

„Yes, Mr Bundy. Magic accepted your adoption but because you are the future Lord Potter, it's only appropriate to have the name Potter.“

„Sure…  We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress. Are you McGonagall?“

„Yes.“

UNIFORM: First-year students will require: three sets of plain work robes (black), one plain pointed hat (black) for day wear, one pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar), one winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings). Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags. COURSE BOOKS: All students should have a copy of each of the following: The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk,  A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot, Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore, Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble. So that spell you did was a transfiguration, right?“

„Yes, I will be your Transfiguration professor as long as you take my subject.“

„And the potions are like chemistry? Is history mandatory? Are there any other books for beginners?“

„Yes, yes and yes. You need to attend all classes until the fifth year, after which you choose subjects you want to specialize in. In the fifth year, you take a test named O.W.L., Ordinary Wizarding Level, which helps you to know in which subject you are really good and N.E.W.T, Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test, helps you to get a job. Do you need further explanation?“

„No, I get it. So I can quit history in fifteen… sweet. OTHER EQUIPMENT: 1 wand, 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2), 1 set glass or crystal phials, 1 telescope, 1 set brass scales. Students may also bring if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad. PARENTS ARE REMINDED-“

„Stop screaming!“ his sister hissed at him.

„It's in capslock, idiot,“ he grinned widely and did some muggle rude gesture that his mother reprimanded.

 „Parents are reminded that first-years are not allowed their own broomsticks! Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus, Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions. Do you fly on them, like witches in movies?“

„Yes, the myth needed to come from somewhere.“

„Do you use it like cars or motorcycles?“

„More like bikes.“

„Okay. So, where can I find the school supplies?“

„In Diagon Alley, that is the main magic alley in London.“

„And how about money? Do you use normal pounds, or dollars, or –“

„We use Galleons, Sickles and Knuts,“ she pulled out few shiny metals from her robes. „The golden ones are called Galleons, silver ones are Sickles and bronze Knuts. There is 17 Sickles in a Galleon, 29 Knuts in a Sickle and consequently 493 Knuts in Galleon.“

„How much is one Galleon in pounds?“

„4.93 pounds. £ 0.29 is one Sickle and £0.01 is one Knut. But no need to worry about money, your biological parents left you with enough money to pay for your tuition.“

„No, we will pay for everything,“ said Mr Bundy calmly, but at the same time bossily. „His inheritance can be his pocket money, but we will take care of our child.“

„I have no problem with that, Mr Bundy. So, when do you want to go to-“

„MOM, FRIDRICH SPIT INTO THE CAKE!“ After that, there was a lot of angry screaming, and Minerva just thought that she was glad Henry was the only wizard in his family – because second Weasly-like family in her school could take the old caste down.

***

They went to Diagon Alley the same day she met them. After they exchanged muggle money for a small mountain of golden coins (and surprised Minerva with how nice they treated Goblins), the shopping began.

First, they bought a good trunk with separate compartments for books, potions, clothes and miscellaneous. Then they speed-runed the clothes buying and took a surprisingly long time in the apothecary, where the boy grilled the shop assistant for information about books and ingredients. Then they bought scales, cauldron and such, he made no fuss over that – but the parchment and quills…

„I'm not from the fucking medieval times, McGonagall. I'm a person of the modern age and I'm going to use a normal fucking pen! And parchment is stupid, a normal paper is so much cheaper and convenient!“

„I don't make the rules, Mr Bundy. Just… take a bit of parchment for the homework and maybe write everything else on muggle paper.“ He looked at her with sharp critical eyes, before he relaxed a little.

„If anybody tells me to use a quill, I will gauge their eyes with it.“ Minerva only rolled her eyes, but Henry was serious. The only thing about this that made him kind of happy was how bendable was her will. Like she didn't want to anger him, which was bullshit – everybody wanted to make the teen bomb to go boom, in his experience.

Then he tried to wander into a dark alley.

„Mr Bundy, don't go in there – Knockturn Alley is a dangerous place for a child.“ He looked at her and tried to walk past her. „Did you hear what I said?!“

„Yes, I heard that that cool looking alley is interesting.“

„No, I said dangerous.“

„I still hear interesting!“ He sang with a wide grin and tried to get around her, but his father finally saved the poor teacher and stopped him by the back of his t-shirt.

„C'mon buddy, don't give your professor a heart attack – or get into problems before the school even starts.“

„… does that mean we will go next time?“ His grin grew in size and Minerva could see the devious spark that he inherited from his biological father – James always grinned before and after a good prank.

„Hey, is this bookshop?“ his father pointed the boys' attention in a different direction – and in that direction, he ran. And left there too much money – Minerva expected the child of two Gryffindors to be a Ravenclaw because nobody loves books as much as Ravens.

Chapter 2: Train and Sorting

Summary:

WARNING: The dialogue from the sorting part of the chapter is stolen from the original book.

Chapter Text

I read through all my class books in less than a week – since I was five I could read more than one book per day if it's not as big as some of the genetics books out there. After a second proofread I asked nicely for another trip to Diagon Alley (and Knockturn Alley, but that one was ruined by my mother after she made me describe why I want to go there so much).

We went to the secondhand book shop where I bought (with my so-called heritage) all the books that the shop assistant recalled as a study material when they were attending Hogwarts. And then some, especially the potion, herbology and transfiguration books. And the others… well, for example, charms sounded like boring housework shit, astrology could go and fuck itself in its stary ass and don't even let me start talking about the boring books about history! I almost fell asleep, because the book sounded like the most boring teacher in the whole fucking world.

Then I bought two potion kits for students and wanted to go home, but dad took me to the local ice-cream shop. Thankfully there was a chocolate flavour in the array of disgusting things like coffee (which was the one dad picked), caramel, cotton candy, vanilla and weirder ones like butterbeer or cucumber. Next time I might try some of the tea flavours, but I worry they will be too sweet for my tastes.

That wasn't our last trip to the magical alley, because I went through my potion supplies quickly – and through few of my cauldrons even quicker. I got the hang of it after a few failed potions that ate through my rug like the best corrosive! After the first explosion I knew I loved potions more than chemistry because it's difficult to get my young hands on the fun substances – but not in the world of magic, where eleven years old boy can cook a highly potent poison with his school kit.

Mother wasn't happy with the damage caused by the potions I brew but I made a healing cream for my burns so that made her slightly happier (but I still need to invest in something that would protect the floor in my bedroom).

On the 1st of September, my whole family packed itself into our huge car with seats for seven people plus driver. I sat next to my mother that drove the car. My older siblings sat behind us with Elizabeth between them, dad and Ludvik got the seats in the back. Normally dad would sit next to mother but I called shotgun and substantiated it for reasons such as: „I will be gone for many months so you can sit there as often as you cant then“ or „It's one of the more dangerous seats and you are the money-maker in this family“ and I got an eye-roll when I ended it with: „And this is MY trip!“

We parked near King's Cross Station and took too long to prepare for this short trip. Mom forced me to hold her hand and dad took my suitcase in the hand that wasn't gripping my shoulder. Ludvik gripped the edge of my hoodie, Marie started to uncharacteristically chat with me without degrading my person, Elizabeth held my mother's hand and Fridrich was silently walking behind me – I controlled him often so I wouldn't fall if he stepped on my heels.

We stopped in front of a column with the numbers nine and ten – McGonagall told us about how to get to the wizarding side of the train station. We agreed that our group was a little too big so we will part our way on the muggle side of it. I kept my hands on my sides when my mother tried to break my ribs in a painful hug that stole my breath.  „I'm going to miss you, Harry,“ she sniffed and I paled – is that woman crying? I really wish I had my suitcase in hand so I could run away.

„Calm the fuck down, I will arrive at Christmas!“

„Doesn't mean I won't miss you - my baby boy –“

„Mother, go to hell.“

„Love you too!“ She let me go but then another pair of arms tried to kill me – surprisingly it was Marie.

„What the fu-“ and there goes my breath. I swear on my brain I could see black spots before she let me go.

„Take care of yourself, Harriet.“

„Go die in a ditch, Marie.“ She smiled brightly like I just told her I didn't give her a secret parting gift that is hidden in her room. Ludvik hugged me too, but his height meant I only wanted to deposit my breakfast on his head (better than asphyxiation in my opinion). Elizabeth ignored me, like usual, and Fridrich noded when I watched him with fear in my mind – if he hugged me, the world would rip in half and I would never learn how to transfigurate him into a chimpanzee.

Dad only messed up my hair, because he's the only one that cares about my dislike of hugs and mushy feelings. „Write to us after the first two weeks – Mrs McGonagall said you can use the school owls.“

„Sure dad. Don't forget where I hid your birthday present – and no cheating, old man!“

„You little-“ he ruffled my hair harder with a short laugh. Mother hugged me again and gave me a sloppy kiss into my hair-

„You dirty- I showered yesterday! Go drool on somebody else!“ And after that, they said their good-bye's and went away. I turned on my heel in the other direction and with quick steps, I went through the magic barrier.

Platform 9 ¾ was as magical as Diagon Alley – people in horrible fashion decisions helped their spawn with their trunks (do they not know about the feather-light spell?), some were doing the same sappy shit that my family did on the other side of the barrier. I looked around for an opening in the crowd so I could board the train without a bunch of children in my personal space. I tried one entrance but some girl got there faster. I went further, where the crowd wasn't as dense and finally found what I was looking for.

With a little effort, I got inside and occupied the first vacant compartment that I could find. After pulling out a book I sat down next to my suitcase (I put it next to me because it should make anybody aware of the fact that I don't want them to annoy me with their presence) and stretched my legs. After half an hour flew by, the train started to move with huffing sound – I saw few kids in the hall through the glass windows decorating the door. Thankfully none tried to get into my compartment and not many kids even went here as it was in the furthest wagon from the locomotive.

After two hours I finished the N.E.W.T. level potion book and felt the itch to try to brew one of the potions in it. But in the slightly rattling vehicle even I wouldn't risk it. I exchanged my hoodie for the school robe and started to read an Encyclopedia of Magical Plants – most of them are used in potions so I deemed it as useful knowledge.

„Have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost one,“ a girl with bushy hair suddenly opened the door and I unintentionally jumped in my seat. „Oh, what are you reading?“

„I haven't seen any amphibian – and my book is called Encyclopedia of Magical Plants.“

„Is it good? I mainly got books about the world of magic, the traditions and history, because I knew nothing about magic. Are you muggle-born or are your parents wizards?“

„It's good if you want to know as much about plants and how to use them in potions as you can. And my parents are muggles.“ I felt no need to describe to this girl my complicated family so I went with the easiest route.

„I'm muggle-born too! Do you like potions? I really like the charms, but potions and transfigurations seem really cool.“ She sat across me but I wasn't as angry as I would be if she was one of those stupid people. She seemed like a curious, smart person – and I prefer people who are like that.

„I brew potions since I got my fist-year book. It's the best of all classes we are going to take in my opinion, but I also hold interest in Transfiguration. It seems impossible to bend laws of physics so much that you can make an inorganic material organic and the other way around. I read ahead in the class material and the process of turning humans into animals fascinates me to no end. What do you like about charms? It looks like housework magic hidden behind a few fun spells.“

„They kind of are, but I bought a book about charms usable in everyday lives and they seem very practical – like Reparo for repairing broken things, Scourgify to clean any mess, Alohomora to open locks and many more! And there are even healing charms.“

„Hmmm… maybe it's better than I presumed. Can you lend me this book?“

„If you land me this one after you're done with it,“ she gave me a big smile that I accepted but didn't mirror her expression.

„Deal. Shouldn't you look for the frog?“

„Oh!“ she went red in a second. „Glad to meet you!“ She ran out of the compartment and slammed the door behind her. Again, I dived into the depths of my book, before I was interrupted again – this time by identical twins with hair so ginger my eyes kind of hurt.

„Hey, did you see our brother?“ asked one of them.

„Ginger, blue eyes,“ added the other. Is it just my luck or do all wizards lose stuff all the time?

„No, I did not. Try to look for a ginger boy with blue eyes, he might know.“

„Oh, little firsty,“

„-but we are looking for our younger brother,“

„-why would Percy know where Ron is?“

„How many fucking siblings do you have?“ I couldn't resist that question.

„Five!“

„Well fuck,“ I let my book to fall into my lap. „That sounds like a fucking hell.“

„Language!“

„How many do you have?“ asked the one on the left.

„Four and I would die if I had more.“ Their grin only grew and put their hands almost under my nose.

„Fred Weasley.“

„George Weasley.“

„Henry Bundy,“ I shook both of them at the same time and quickly stopped the physical contact.

„Are they wizards too?“

„No, they are normal. Thankfully, at least I have time without them.“ They laughed – obviously they are not as lucky. „In which house are you?“ I asked because students might tell me a different definition of the houses. „I read about them but I always need more sources to make a final decision.“

„In Griffindor. House of the brave and stupid, if you ask me,“ said the twin on the left, Fred.

„Brash and loud,“ nodded George enthusiastically, „but it's the best house if you are a prankster because nobody will rat you out or go through your stuff.“

„And the dorm is in a tower, so the view is top-notch.“                                     

„And how about the other houses?“ I asked, already aware that I would hate to be part of the Griffindor house.

„Hufflepuff is for the friendly folk.“

„Too nice for their own good, but the best gamblers in the school.“ Smirked Fred.

„Also they know how to take a joke.“

„Slytherins are the outcasts but they are usually the best in classes.“

„After Ravens. They are also assholes and too moody for their own good.“

„Ravenclaws are a bunch of jerks too, but little less…“

„Combustible. Sticklers for rules and usually no fun.“ Ended George. „Happy with our lecture, Henriekins?“

„Decently, dickhead,“ I kicked his shin hard enough to make him fall on his twin's shoulder.

„Which is the most similar to you?“ asked the one without pain in his face.

„Slytherin or Ravenclaw I guess. After all, I am a bookworm AND an asshole.“ That made them snicker.

„Do you like pranking?“ asked George after he caught a lung-full of breath.

„Kind of – but I never pranked someone with magic. Are there special spells or potions?“

„Both-“ they said in unison.

„Let us-“

„-teach you-“

„-our young apprentice,“ 

„-the art of pranking.“ finished George with a sage-like tone. I rolled my eyes and almost laughed at their theatrical acting.

Thankfully for them, I love learning – and we have another three hours worth of a railroad ahead of us.

(Somewhere in Scottland a bunch of teachers got a bad feeling.)

***

I almost fell multiple times before we got our asses into the wooden boats. Hermione found me in the crowd and dragged a boy (later introducing himself as Neville Longbottom) into the boat with us. I quickly stroke a conversation with him about my book because Hermione obviously mentioned it to him. He was annoyingly shy but his knowledge made him a good source of practical herbology. Because of that, I let them make a study group – although they were kind of scared we won't be in the same house?

„Who fucking cares – we are here to study, not to make friends,“ I told them honestly.

„Where do you think you will end up, Henry?“ Neville asked.

„Ravenclaw or Slytherin – I love knowledge and smart people, but I'm also ambitious and an asshole most of the time,“ I shrugged and looked at the shining castle with interest. How the fuck am I supposed to not get lost in such a big building? I hope they will give us a map.

„I want to be a Gryffindor, like Albus Dumbledore, but Ravenclaw sounds cool too.“ She seems like a Raven but I know her for not even an hour, so maybe she is brash or brave or loud – just not stupid.

„My grandmother wants me to be a Griffindor but I think I will be a Hufflepuff.“

„Not a bad one.“ He looked at me weird but I ignored that and started to raise because we arrived in a harbour located at the end of a dark tunnel.

„Oy, you there! Is this your toad?“ Neville sprung up and grabbed an amphibian that he obviously named Trevor (him yelling „TREVOR!“ helped me with that deduction).

After we went up a wide staircase, a big door on the top of them flew open. I could see McGonagall that looked at us sternly. “The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said the big man.

„Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” We followed her into a small chamber and everyone invaded my personal space – after few jabs in the rib-height I got what I deserve – a nice space to move my arms and breathe. „Welcome to Hogwarts,” said the old professor. „The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts.“

Does that mean they will try to kill me with affection or literally kill me?

„You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room. The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points.“

They will hate me for sure – if professors of magic are as strick about my favourite word as the muggle ones.

„At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

Like I care about how I look – but Neville and Hermione started to fuss around. Are they… nervous? I would be if I believed that ginger who must be twin's brother – fighting a troll? From what I read that is a challenge even for a fully-fledged wizard. Fred and George must have told him that shit… which was the only reason why I haven't ripped him a new one with my words. Hermione was smarter about her predictions – she awaited a test, judging by her muttering of spells taught in the first year.

„Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —” What. The. FUCK? No book said anything about ghosts! From what are they made? Are they tangible? Can you feel when they go through you? Why are they here and not anywhere else where I have been in the past?

„My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?” Only then he noticed the kind of big group of eleven years old children? Is he really that blind or are they playing it?

Nobody answered.

„New students!” said the fat ghost (can ghosts eat?), smiling. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?”

A few people nodded mutely.

„Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the fat ghost. „My old House, you know.”

„Move along now,” said a sharp voice. „The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.” Professor McGonagall had returned. The ghosts flew through the wall – I suppose that means they could walk through humans. Hmmm… I need to find a willing subject to do a few experiments.

„Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told us sternly, „and follow me.” She led us through a double door to the biggest hall I ever saw. The ceiling looked like a starry night sky – „It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History,” Hermione told me quietly. We were in the middle of the student-part of the hall, two tables on our right and the other two on the left. It wasn't hard to guess which house sits at which table.

McGonagall placed in front of our group a four-legged stool and put an old hat on it. Everybody looked at it expectantly, but I had no idea what to expect.

„Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,“

WHAT THE- well, this is the magical world, so I should have expected something as bizarre as a singing hat, but I simply didn't.

„But don’t judge on what you see,

I’ll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There’s nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can’t see,“

That sound not only creepy but also like a bad idea.

„So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.“

Not surprising by this point, but the slower dumbasses caught that tidbit of information only now.

„You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you’ve a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You’ll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don’t be afraid!

And don’t get in a flap!

You’re in safe hands (though I have none)“

Hah. Ha, ha.

„For I’m a Thinking Cap!”

The older students started to clap for some reason and the hat bowed like an old-time gentleman.

„So we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Wow, twins said he was kind of slow but that was like few minutes too slow.

 The first girl called went into Hufflepuff. Then another new Badger, one Raven named Boot and it was my turn to shine. „Bundy, Henry!“ Glad she only called out the short version of my name – I read about my so-called fame and few days after that I wanted to cut all my ties to the wizarding folk… Do people really believe a year old baby could kill someone? I believe my biological mother must have killed him and died at the end of their fight, but tell that to stupid cretins.

„Oh, hello Mr Bundy-Potter.“ I kept quiet, but my mind shoved him the middle finger. It surprised me when he started to laugh. „Not the best way to treat someone who can put you into Griffindor, young Henry.“

„Try that and I promise I will make you into a slime.“

„Duly noted. So, where will I put you? Hm… you deducted your potential houses correctly – you have no friendly bone in your body, even though you are hard-working. You would kill Griffins in the first week of school… and because how the House of Slytherin is nowadays, they wound end up similarly. So you better be… RAVENCLAW!“

Chapter 3: Fuck Timetables

Chapter Text

The world hates me, the person who wrote this timetable hates me even more – but I hate them even more. History so early in the morning?

„Who the fuck made this fucking crap?“ I asked Flitwick, the shortest teacher that ever taught me. I asked the prefect, Robert Hilliard, if he's a goblin or at least a partial one but he told me not to be rude.

„Language Mr Bundy! Five points from Ravenclaw!“

„I. Don't. Care. Who the fuck made this abomination? Give me anything in the morning – just not fucking history!“

„Your timetable is like this because this was the only time left open for all fist years. And you earned yourself detention for your language, Mr Bundy.“ He seemed like a nice guy yesterday when he told us some rules like when is the time that we need to be in our bed when the breakfast is served and things like that. Now I want to bash his head into the corner of the table or poke his eyes out with a fork that is in my hand.

„As you wish,“ I shrugged, unbothered by this common punishment that many tried. „When and where? And do you have a map, so I can find it?“

„Your last lesson is Charms so you will stay behind.“ His black eyes are sharp and before he went and gave the horrible timetable to anyone else, he told me this: „Try not to lose too many points, Mr Bundy.“

„Go fuck yourself,“ I rolled my eyes and wasn't bothered by another ten points taken from my House. „Asshole.“

„You shouldn't talk to people like that-

„-especially teachers-“

„-or duelling masters.“ Suddenly I had ginger on each of my sides – I grinned at them when I felt a circular thing being pushed into my pocket. „They might turn you green and purple,“

„-if you anger them.“ I have no idea who is who. But I'm determined to learn how to differentiate them – they are smart. Not as much as me, but they are creative in the best cruel way possible. On the train we talked without stopping – George is better than his twin with spells and Fred with potions. That is the only big difference I found. For now.

„True, my comrades. Can you show me where is the history classroom before the class starts? For some reason, there is no map for this goddam school.“ They exchanged a type of look I saw before but I never found out what it is supposed to mean.

„We will help you – and maybe, if you're a good baby prankster, we can draw you a map. Deal?“

„Sure. But now – let me have my breakfast, or I will kill the history teacher.“ They started to laugh like a pair of hyenas – why the fuck are they laughing?

Then I found out. A FUCKING BORING GHIST TEACHES A FUCKING BORING CLASS?! But at that moment I was blissfully unaware and only bitched about the fact that I have the classes I was excited the most for later in the week. How I loved that ignorance- or maybe it was the sausage with eggs and two mugs of Earl Gray? All in all, after five minutes of listening to the ghost I pulled out Encyclopedia of Magical Plants and finished it before the end of the class. Hermione caught up with me after class, Neville close behind her.

„Here,“ I offered her the book.

„You can't do that in a class, Henry! You were very rude – next time I’m going to sit next to you,“ she furrowed her brows but took my book with a quick thank’s. I only rolled me eyes.

„Hey Neville, we have Herbology together, wanna pair up before the class? My roommates are a bunch of dickheads.“

He turned red but nodded. His siblings in yellow accented robes followed us like a pack of fucking dogs – do I really look like I know where I’m going? Because I’m in front of this group and twins only showed me the direction.

„You need to learn history,“ she traded me her charms book, „especially for our tests in the fifth year!“

„Don't worry, I will learn it when I need to – eidetic memory is a big plus in the scholarly life after all. So no worry, my one-term paper will be the best in our year.“ She looked shocked, like any person I told this to. For some reason telling this to people always shocks them.

„What is an epidemic memory?“ Neville asked.

„Perfect memory – I can recollect everything I ever saw, smelled, heard, touched or tasted. Not the best thing when your brother likes farting in your face but besides that, it’s fucking great.“

„That's neat!“

That’s a better reaction than: ‚One would think you would know more words thank fuck.‘ I quite liked that classmate.

Professor Sprout was a decent teacher – she liked that I could answer any of her more ‚difficult‘ questions (it could be almost called murder of questions) after I paid her no attention and rather tried to get the small Devil’s Snare to react. It was too young to cause any damage (besides some small bruises) but she wasn’t happy with me even when I told her so in my slow voice (meant for stupid and the slow). The first question was basic: „If Devil’s Snare catches you, what would you do?“

„I would either use fire or strong Lumos because it hates light and warmth – that’s why you can usually find it in damp and dark places. They were for a time a pest in basements, but now there are only a few plants in the wild.“

„Where would you look for Rosies?“ Is cheating asking a first-year question found in second-year materials? Not like I care, just asking.

„As their name suggests, they are in the flowerbeds where roses are growing – they are not pests, which is a common misconception, they are imposters.“

„And what do they do?“

„They produce pollen that is poisonous for small animals and children – it stays in the lungs and makes them cough out blood – but for a grown male it’s almost like pepper, it makes them sneeze. It is how they are spread – by coughing or sneezing infected humans. They are valuable ingredients in poison making, because of how well they damage the respiratory system. However, they are also used in medicine for a cough – to get rid of the phlegm quicker.“

„What about aconite?“ Third-year? Really?

„Also known as Moonshank and Wolfsbane. Poisonous in most ways besides when the root of the plant is used in potions for calming down werewolves or in Wideye. Leaves are used in poisons that attack the digestive system. And… it’s a blueish-purple flower that usually grows in deep forests but it is common for potion masters to have a pot or two in the dark corner of a laboratory if they brew Wolfsbane potions often enough.“ I can’t decide if she’s angry or happy…

„Gillyweed.“

„It grows in saltwater, is grey-green in colour and looks a little like rodent tails. If a human eats it, they can breathe underwater and they grow membranes between the fingers. It can also be used in potions that do a similar task or if you want to make someone into a fish.“

„Nifflers fancy.“

„Well… its a very rare plant and its leaves look like copper – named after Niffler which is a creature that loves anything shiny. It used to be a primitive wizard currency and it's very useful in potions – it's part of the Blood-Replenishing potion, because how much iron it has in it. Don't you want to give met he N.E.W.T. test now? My throat is getting scratchy,“ I forced a smile on my sour face. She went red.

„Thirty points to Ravenclaw, for your immense knowledge Mr Bundy.“ After that she let me do anything I wanted while she lectured the rest of the class. How fast can I lose these points? After all, I still have enough time through lunch and in charms!

I sat next to Hermione and twins were across us in a heartbeat. Neville hesitated before he too sat at the table of the house Griffindor. „So, how did you enjoy defence, Hermione?“

„Professor Quirrell smells like garlic and stutters in every word, but when you listen to him he's really good and he knows what he's doing… I think he's a decent teacher.“

„Everyone is better than fucking Binns,“ I put a grilled chicken on my plate, added potatoes and some vegetables for the necessary vitamins. I wished I could find gravy – and it appeared in front of me in a little bowl. I blinked rapidly, before humming my thanks. A mug with smoking hot tea appeared next to it and it smelled divine. Well, maybe I can get used to thanking for my meal!

„How did you do that?“ Neville asked with big eyes. I grinned like a Cheshire cat and sipped my piping hot tea in silence, that for some reason made him giggle.

„Sprout is very question-happy, in my opinion – but after I showed her that I don't need her theory lecture she let me do my thing. Next time I should bring a book, I only had my school books and I already know them word by word.“

„Really?“ asked… Fred?

„Yes. Are you George?“ I asked for rapidly.

„Yes,“ he smiled, but not in the right way.

„Fuck, I thought I guessed right…“ I bemoaned my inability to recognise them.

„But you guessed right?“ Hermione raised one eyebrow.

„It doesn't matter which name I would say, I thought he was Fred and he recognised that I used the wrong name on purpose, but he really IS George, that's why he doesn't look like a cat that got the bird.“

„You are such a weirdo,“ Neville grinned and started to eat almost quicker than me.

***

First charms lection was about the boring theory that was in the first chapter of our textbook. I rather read under my table the book Hermione lent to me – it was far more interesting, filled with charms I could in fact use even today because our first homework was assigned and dictating is faster than writing. I need to find a place for that, I don't want other people to use my words in their homework. I'm interested if anyone will try to steal it because many people in primary, secondary and high school tried it. Thankfully my handwriting is horrible enough that it was always obvious which paper is mine. It ruled out copying too.

„Go ahead, I have detention,“ I waved Hermione off. „Meet you at the diner.“ She wasn't happy with me, I could see that very clearly.

„Are we going to eat at the Hufflepuffs table?“ Surprisingly she didn't mention how disappointed she was with my behaviour.

„Sure, If you don't mind. I care only about the food.“

„Then bye – for now. Try to be nice.“

„I don’t have that in my fucking vocabulary!“ I called after her and ignored Flitwick commenting on my language – again. He’s getting boring. „So, what now professor?“ I turned around to look at him and raised an eyebrow when he pulled out a box filled with cups and plates.

„I need to prepare for my second-year class, where they are going to learn Reparo. Do you know what it does?“

„Repairs stuff. So, are we going to break some shit?“ Well, that sounds like fun! And for once it would be intentional!

„Language, Mr Bundy. Let's get to it. You have this box, smash them as you like and put the shards of one thing on each table.“ I wonder, is there a spell for it? My knowledge of Latin might help because most spells I read about are Latin. Some in other dead or old languages, which I don’t speak (and some are just a mash of Latin and bullshit- like Wingardium Leviosa, a mix of Latin words like arduum and levis and English wing). But I can work with Latin… so I pulled out my wand that I wanted to break and put on fire even before I received it.

Ollivander worked with me for over an hour before he almost got a heart attack when my so-called ‚accidental magic‘ started to break more things than the horrible wands he tried to put into my hand. But thankfully, in the end, I ended up with a quite flexible fifteen-inches long walnut wand with the dragon heartstring core. I made him tell me what it means: walnut is for intelligent magic users, inventors or innovators. As long as the wielder is competent, it is versatile and adaptable, willing to fulfil the wielders desires. Dragon heartstring chose me because my mind is strong and focused – however, he told me to look for someone who would make me a costume wand when I'm a little older, because I don't fully suit that particular core. The worst fucking thing about this? There are no books about wand-making!

But that's not important right now, I need to smash. So I tried my theory and pointed the simple wand at one of the cups. „Ruptura,“ I imagined it falling into pieces with high pitched sound – and it happened, which made me unusually happy. I continued until the whole box was empty and every table had its shards. „Done.“

„Good work. Where did you learn that spell, Mr Bundy?“

„I just tried my Latin knowledge,“ I shrugged and stretched out my arms, unused to the slight buzzing feeling in them. „Can I go now?“

„Twenty points to Ravenclaw for your ingenuity. But next time ask me for help – new spells have an unfortunate tendency to burst into all directions.“

„Or maybe, magic is easier than you think.“

„Believe me, I have used it for far longer than you – I know how fickle it can be. You were just lucky. You are dismissed.“ Judging by how he acts he doesn't like me – so I exited without an intrigued question, which spells burst the most.

I wonder, when will the colour bomb set off?

***

The next day I got a headache in DADA and decided that I hate garlic. But then I enjoyed the rest of Tuesday, so I'm not that angry about it.

I loved Transfiguration. I again sat next to Neville and listened to McGonagall that showed us some incredible feats of magic, like changing her desk into a pig. What would happen if the animal ate something, then it pooped and only after that it would be turned into its original form? Or if someone ate it, would the table be incomplete and the person would get puncture wounds from the chunk of wood? Or would it turn into sawdust? I asked McGonagall but she didn't know the answer. How boring of her.

She gave us matches and tasked us to turn it into a needle. I tried it without a second thought and only the end got a little sharper. I furrowed my brows at that and started to think. In the more advanced books, there were some mentions about imagination and how visualization makes any spell easier. After all, it helped with my experiment in my detention, why wouldn't it help now?

So I tried it – the shape was easy after that, but changing the material into metal was a lot more difficult. The atoms and molecules are totally different in these materials, they have different properties – from how they hold warmth to their firmness. Is this difficult for me because of this mindset? Or maybe it's a good thing, like many times before? I tried to imagine how even the chemical structure changes, how it transforms itself into a man-made metal that cannot be easily broken and chanted the spell under my breath.

It worked – not fully because I forgot about the shape, but before the class ended I figured it out and could give the professor a fully functional metal needle with a point so sharp my finger bled. She gave me points, even though I said: „Choke on that fucking thing.“ I hated it after all that trouble.

Then there were flying lessons. „Why do we have almost all lessons with fucking Hufflepuffs?“ I asked no one and everyone at the same time. A girl not from my House answered me (Hannah Abbot, my memory helped me): „Slytherin and Griffindor are rivals to death and putting them in one class is supposed to help them overcome that.“

„But house points fuck that shit up,“ I guessed, this based on her sour look.

„Exactly. So we were left over with each other because of this practice.“

„Well… better that Griffins – Hermione is smart but the rest is just asking for a good head crushing session. One of them just waved his wand and a book caught on fire. He did no spell, no incantation, nothing. I may like explosions and fire but that one was uncontrolled and unintentional!“ I rambled about it for few minutes and after I got myself together, they were a snickering mess. „Shut the fuck up, dickheads.“ I still have no idea why they go with me to classes when I got them lost two times already.

Thankfully this time I found my way out of the castle and found the right training place.

„Well, what are you all waiting for?” the teacher with hawk-like eyes barked. „Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.” So we did exactly that. Each one of them was obviously old and damaged – I looked at brooms in the Quidditch store and those brooms were polished and orderly, no twig out of place or scratch on the handle.

„Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called the professor at the front, „and say UP!”

„UP!” everyone shouted, just like a group of a well-trained chimpanzee. Even after that kind of difficult Transfiguration class I still want to turn Fridrich into one… he would make a good Griffin. After the first wave of shouts I tried for the first time with a voice sharp and demanding – it jumped up without a hitch. They obviously can somehow feel if we are afraid because Neville is and his broom hadn't moved even an inch.

After few minutes everyone got it (I told Neville my thoughts about it and it helped him) and the teacher showed us how to mount the broom without sliding off it. It surprised me that my balls haven't tried to kill me, so there must be some spell that cushions the hard surface. I wondered how it works. Do professional brooms have something like a bike seat? Or special clothes with cushioning in the crotch like bike-pants?

„Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three —two —”

Before he could fuck up I caught Neville's broom by the front and a boy next to him pulled him off. „Mr Longbottom, you are supposed to kick off when I blow my whistle!“

„Maybe he is nervous?“ I tried to be nice for a second before that weird tendency left me quicker than it found me. „You should have some fucking fail-safe on these horrible brooms, you hag!“

„DETENTION!“

Sometimes I really hate school. I might look into skipping few years and see how it works here…

The next day I fell asleep during astronomy lection because she started to tell stories about the stars and robes are just a big blanket you wear on you. I adore them as much as lab coats – however, those are cooler. Thankfully she hasn't noticed so my sleep was uninterrupted.

On Thursday I finally stepped into the potions class. I was the only happy person in our group made out of Hufflepuffs and myself. Other Ravens might have been happy before professor Snape glided into the front of the class, but I don't care. I really hate my roommates and their female counterparts. They are so boring – I thought that they would be happy to experiment as any smart person would be but after my experimental potion for bettering the eyesight burned off Terry's eyebrows they told me to brew elsewhere – and they are still angry with me because I tried to practise spells from Hermione's book. They called Prefect on me! It was only three in the morning! It's not my fault I slept enough in Astrology.

Severus Snape, the youngest potion master in Brittain that few of my not-class books mentioned. A man that is obviously good enough to teach me something. He started to do a roll call but paused on my name. He looked surprised and it didn't occur to me why in the first second. „Here!“ I called before he had the time to say my full name. His eyes narrowed but said nothing and continued.

After he finished he looked up at the class with his black eyes. I heard he's a vampire – I doubt it but he does look dangerous.

„You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began in a soft voice. Thankfully I was in the first row so I had no problem with hearing him. „As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes-“ Is he trying to insult me?“ „-the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” I like him. The rest of the class did too, they were so silent I could hear their breathing. Good thing nobody is eating, that could make me furious. „Bundy!“ he startled me with his suddenly loud voice. „What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

„Draught of Living Dead if it worked out well, but this is also a good base for any potion that helps with insomnia or generally with problems with sleep. Some healers use it in anti-depressants because of how it calms down patients but that is only experimental.“ 

„Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

„From your potion cabinet if it was urgent but gutting a goat is much more fun. I would look for it in the stomach to be precise and sometimes there are few little ones in the duodenum.“

„What is the difference, Bundy, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” I know I look smart, but shouldn't they ask people who need to revise? So people who look like they are going to start to drool in their sheer stupidity? Like Zacharias Smith?

„Like I already told Professor Sprout – none. Also known as aconite. Poisonous in most ways besides when the root of the plant is used in potions for calming down werewolves or in Wideye. Leaves are used in poisons that attack the digestive system. And… it’s a blueish-purple flower that usually grows in deep forests but it is common for potion masters to have a pot or two in the dark corner of a laboratory if they brew Wolfsbane potions often enough.“ Did I just say the same thing as last time? Yes, it was a good answer after all. He looked me in the eyes for a long moment before he barked: „Are you writing it down?!“

Then we started to brew a simple potion for curing boils. I started with practised speed and Neville only hindered my progression with his meagre tries. I tried to use him as a basic thing do-er, but he almost put not-so-finely crushed snake fangs into the cauldron. I stopped it in time and watched him like a hawk for the whole time the potion was simmering. Then he almost threw in porcupine quills before I had the time to take it off the fire.

„NEVILLE! Go to the other side of the classroom, or I will chop off your hands, you idiot!“ I yelled at him, thankfully I caught the flying quills and put the potion aside as I intended. Is he trying to visit the nurse?

I could hear soft hiccuping from the now crying boy but I ignored him and continued with brewing.

„Mr Bundy, try to yell quieter next time.“ Snape got behind me so silently it spooked me when I could almost feel his breath on my neck but I kept my cool because any mistake could fuck this up. This part is the most dangerous. I added the quills, stirred it clockwise five times and then completed the potion with a wave of my wand. The potion was perfect as the pink colour of smoke suggested.

„Twenty points to Ravenclaw for a perfect potion. Leave it here, the school matron can always use a cure for boils. Now take that cry-baby out of my class.“

„Sure. But if he leaves snot on my clothes you are the first person I will hunt down so you can teach me cleaning spell.“ I took my bag and grabbed the rounder boy by the shoulder. His weeping started to lessen but he had still that ugly cry-face.

This should teach him: Don't fuck with my work. Next time, I'm going to hog a workstation. From what I have seen, everybody besides me is shit at potions. How can they have potion few hues too dark or too light, a potion that is this simple? No wonder Snape calls the students he usually teaches dunderheads.

What an insult.

Chapter 4: Danger sounds a lot like INTERESTING

Chapter Text

It was the end of the first school week when the Hogwarts teachers met in the staff room. It was a tradition to talk about students – if any show signs of abuse if there are any prodigies, troublemakers and most often they just shared the freshest gossip over a glass of wine or tea.

„Did you have a nice week?“ asked the headmaster cheerfully with a lemon drop clinking against his teeth.

„The new students are quite good and Weasley twins are suspiciously calm so you can choose how to interpret it,“ answered Minerva. It was a well-known secret that she spiced her tea with scotch.

„If you don't count young Henry,“ snorted Flitwick.

„I had no problem with him,“ she waved him off and sipped some more.

„Didn't you talk to that boy? His vocabulary is as crude as it can be and he is never sorry when I take house point from him or give him detention! Right now he holds the record in how fast one can get detention!“

„But he's brilliant!“ said Pomona. „He could answer any question – I even tried how well he knew N.E.W.T. stuff and he had no problem with it! He's obviously bored in my lessons when I teach theory so I let him do as he wants. His practical needs a little work but he's still second only to Neville who is experienced beyond his years.“

„How many times did you hear him say fuck?“

„At least twice every half an hour. But I don't want to make him sour to my subject so I let him be and only annoy him with my questions.“

„His parents are ok with it – they told me that it helps him with his anger, it lets it out a little pressure without physical violence. When they tried to stop him his magic would break any glass in the room and it would cause harm to the people who angered him. They even talked with psychologist and he said that they should let him deal with it this way.“

„But it's not propper!“ Filius started to turn red in his face. „He's a brat, with no respect to authority!“

„Do I always sound like that?“ Severus mussed and Albus smiled widely.¨

„And how do you like the young Henry, Severus?“

„He is arrogant and cruel, but I never had a better student – even though he has the blood of James Potter in his veins. He even obviously hates the name Potter, he stopped me before I could call it when I did roll call.“

„His father wanted to keep his identity a secret, they wanted no public attention on him just because he is who he is. Of course, there is a possibility someone will find out but he won't sue us if it's someone else than staff.“

„His father?“

„Yes, he's a muggle lawyer. But Severus, I must ask – I heard he made the young Longbottom cry?“

„Yes, the dunderhead almost messed up their potion and Bundy got angry after he prevented the explosion of a boiling potion. He made him cry – I wonder how he's not a Slytherin.“

„He's very particular about people I noticed – he really only likes Hermione Granger when she's not telling him what is proper and Weasley twins, because they are smart – in their own way. He tolerates the Badgers but doesn't talk with them too much. And he is ok with Neville only because he's good in herbology,“ said Pomona. „And he seems too impulsive to truly master the Slytherin mask.“

„H-he would call us creepy s-s-stalkers,“ mumbled Quirell quietly, but his eyes shone with a red light. Nobody heard him.

„Do you know what he wants to be in future?“ asked Septima Vector, the arithmancy teacher.

„He wanted to be a muggle doctor before so I think he wants to become a healer - he's more than smart enough for it.“

„With that temper?“

„I didn't get it either.“

***

Instead of having detention with Hooch, the flying teacher, I ended up with Snape. Twins told me he usually makes students do chores like cleaning cauldrons or the floor, but I was given the task of brewing three cauldrons of pepper-up potion for the flu season. I worked in one of the stations and he graded homework. I could hear him angrily scratching with his simple black quill and wondered how horrible they must be. I found our homework laughably simple but Hufflepuffs had heaps and heaps of problems with it.

Hannah, Susan and Sally-Anne asked if I could help them and I did, kind of – I showed them where they can find the information and they even thanked me – unheard of. The rest of them tried on their own and Neville looked scared every time I talked about anything regarding potions. Twins tried to explain to me something about scaring him but I didn't get it – I saved him from an explosion (and his own dumbness in the process). The knowledge of this always makes me angry when I see him so I started to sneak my way from working in class with someone (and especially him). Teachers tried to make me behave differently but after a week they accepted it and let me do as I wished.

Twins took me in the third week under each arm and dragged me into a dusty classroom, eyes serious but faces cheery. „Wanna contribute-“

„-to a prank-“

„-little apprentice?“

„Sure. Do you have things for it? Plans?“

„We were thinking of something big,-“

„-spectacular. Like paint bombs falling from the ceiling of the Great Hall.“ I think this sentence was finished by George because he looks a little less sly than his ginger twin right now.

„What colours?“ I grinned. They almost blinded me with their cheer and gave me each one ballon with paint sloshing in it. One was bright blue and the other one was yellow. And the bonus colour would be green after some mixing. „Nice. Tomorrow morning or later?“

„At diner is better because some don't go to breakfast. If you help us we can finish before the end of the day but we don't have a date preference, little raven.“

„Let's do it tonight - I'm going to write a letter home and I want to tell them about something more interesting than how I made my roommates hate me.“

„What did you do this time?“

„Experimenting?“

„Reading into the wee hours of the morning?“

„Screaming at a dunderhead?“ That was Fred, the cheekier twin.

„I see you too appreciate this curse-word.“

„It has its charm. Just like fuck, of course.“

„Of course – fuck is the fucking best word. Dunderhead is the second.“ He messed up my hair after that so I forcefully stepped on his foot which made him whine. „Do I need to know a specific spell for this?“

***

Hello dad, mother and the hellspawn,

I hope the stupid owl gets the letter to you without a problem. I talked to twins about how stupid they are in comparison to flock birds and the three that sat near me scratched my hands and face. I healed it with a simple spell but I felt a need to go on a feather-full rampage.

I was sorted into a Ravenclaw, however, the House of wise and clever is not as smart as I anticipated. They are sticklers for rules and what is written in a book is like a law to them – what a fucking bullshit! They are against my experiments and copious questions, our head of house a man with a smaller brain than his size would imply (he's about the size of a goblin, I think he's partially one). He always tells me to stop cursing so I curse around him more out of spite. I thought even I could find a like-minded person in this house but I feel like even stupid Griffins are better than Ravens.

Some Hufflepuffs are friendly with me, mostly because I can help them with anything. I don't have too many classes with Slytherins and they are decent students so I know none. Surprisingly the only students I can withstand are three Gryffindors – Hermione Granger (she's the smartest in our year if you don't count me and she's even starting to think for herself after only two weeks of debates – I think she will join me in my experiments before the school year ends, if not sooner), Fred Weasley and George Weasley (they are monozygous twins, two years older than me – smart, but mainly creative in their pranking experiments).

Just yesterday we bombarded the Great Hall (where we eat and the sorting ceremony held place) with paint-filled balloons! It was special so if one tried to wash it off, it would change colour. I wasn't the one who thought of that, I only helped with the instalment and then just enjoyed not only watching people go batshit crazy but also being splattered in bright colours. There is a special body wash that got rid of the colour, but only the knowledgeable knew about that. Twins are suspected but because my wand was used for the enchantment they came out clean (in theory, because they were one of the most ‚couloured in‘). If anybody suspects me, it means they read this letter.

I like all the classes I knew I would like and event the professors are decent. I like Severus Snape (the potions teacher), Pomona Sprout (herbology teacher) and McGonagall the most. Snape overtakes my detentions and ‚makes‘ me brew potions for the infirmary. Sprout lets me do what I want just because I'm smart and McGonagall is the most chill about my love for the word FUCK and also she enjoys my raw talent in Transfiguration. I would like charms but I would also like to skin Flitwick so I only appreciate the art as a self-taught practitioner.

It was only the end of the second week and I got my fifth detention – as I wrote Snape took over my detentions so I quite enjoy them and plan how to make Flitwick turn red in seconds. Shouting rude things usually works like a charm (get it?) but sometimes he's little oblivious and in those moments I do a little prank on him (twins teach me).

Ask if you're interested in something because I can't think of crap that would interest you.

Hate,

Hadrian

PS.: Can you send me my chemistry book for hight schools with the galaxy cover?

***

Four weeks into school Flitwick made Snape give him the privilege of getting my detention time. He said sorry and tried to be nice, but after half an hour he started to reprimand me for my language again so I stormed off. I thought he wanted to make me like him, that he would treat me like he treats other students – but obviously, he only tried to make me stop in a nicer way. Like it would work! I stormed off into the potion classroom and pulled out my brewing supplies. Snape looked at me with risen eyebrow but after one fiery look, he told me to make Skele-gro.

Flitwick never came and when I saw him the next day in class he ignored my existence – like his whole fucking House. The hat said I would go on a rampage in Slytherin and Gryffindor but I think I will end up as a criminal before my fourth year even as a Ravenclaw. I looked into my options regarding skipping few years and my hopes were crushed because I may take my O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s sooner than necessary but every wizard needs to finish at least five years of education.

After a few pranks with twins, I think I could pull one off on my own – I want to get my revenge on that dickhead. I prepared two nasty potions that can be used on clothing – hair-falling potion and rash potion that would cover him in a red rash and make him itchy. I stalked him for a little while and found out his personal chambers and listened with a magical hearing-aid spell for the password. I tried it without the contraband on me and as long as I knew the password the painting was happy to let me through. I also found which day was his nighttime corridor watching day and scheduler my prank on Wednesday.

So when the big clock-arm pointed at eleven in the Wednesday night, I was creeping through the halls with charms covering me from the top of my head to my heels. These were the fist spells twins taught me – smell and noise banishing and spell that made me not as noticeable.

I used the later one almost all the time because my roommates started trying to get rid of me. Or annoy me. Terry was the first - he blasted me with Aquamenti and tried to make it seem like an error – but my siblings trained me for this. „I was only practising – like you!“ He said, tried to make me understand his obvious lie. „I want to be as good as you are!“ My ego almost made me lose my anger, but I was stronger and ‚practised‘ on him my Stinging hex. Then my things started to go missing so I learned Accio and Locking spells of all colours and strengths.

I crept through the halls and even evaded Filch and his cat – I hid behind a suit of armour and Ms Noris couldn't sniff me out thanks to the spells. When I was close to Flitwicks chambers somebody grabbed my shoulder, I almost screamed out loud and heart attack didn't kill me only because of my age. If my bladder was full I would for sure piss myself. ‚Thankfully‘ for my detention-count, another hand silenced me. I could see a pale freckled hand and I instantly knew who grabbed me, so I bit him as hard as I could.

„Ouch!“ George squeaked. How do I know it's George, you ask? His hands are not as scarred as Freds, they lack a big scar on the back of his hand. In their first year, Fred was stupid and stirred his potion in the wrong direction and only managed to save his face by covering it with his hands. Because they stole the ingredients from Snape they couldn't just go to the infirmary and get it healed. And in that time they didn't know how to heal it themselves – actually, they told me this was the reason they looked into healing and always have potions for the most common injuries. I would offer to make him scar-lightening cream, it's little too difficult for their prowess, but I think his scar is cool. I don't like the scar on my forehead, because it's a stupid shape, but other scars are cool (like the scar I have on my shin since the day I fell on a thankfully not-rusty nail).

And yes, I did ask them about it. I was just curious!

„What are you two doing here? And how did you find me?“ I hissed at them.

„We told you not to prank a teacher, you could get expelled!“ Fred hissed back.

„And a good prankster never tells his secret, little apprentice,“ added George, still rubbing his hand.

„Oh you fucking baby, do you need me to kiss your boo-boo?“ I smirked at him, angry that I can't finish my revenge. Well, the potions won't go bad with my stasis spells on them so I can use them later. If they are this determined not to let me break that little motherfucker they will not let me run off.

„If you would be so kind-“ he started with offering me his hand with visible teeth-marks when we heard the voice of an old man.

„Can you hear the naughty student, Ms Norris? I think this time I can persuade Dumbledore that my disciplinary punishments are the best option for these little bastards…“

„Oh fuck,“ I cursed and twins grabbed each one hand before they started to run with me almost flying behind them. They took me through a few hidden passages but Filch was still on our heels. And his cat was even closer – when we got almost stuck in one tight corridor I needed to kick her head as hard as I could to stop her scratching my literal heels. We ran into a random door and before they could drag me further I enchanted it shut as tightly as magically possible. Then I went further and opened a locked door where, if we're lucky, nobody would look for us.

„You're good for a beginner,“ Fred wheezed through his heavy breathing. One would expect more from an athlete.

„Of course I am, I'm Henry fucking Bundy. You know I'm good.“

„Still surprises us,“ said George with a silent laugh, after which his eyes grew in size. „Fuck.“

„You are saying it with too little anger,“ I turned around and looked into one pair of eyes out of three. „Are we on the third floor?“ My mind figured quickly that my guess was correct.

„What will we do?“ The big dog wasn't aggressive, however, our every move made it grow a little more irritated.

„Do you know some spell that produces music?“

„Why? And not really.“

„Same here.“

„Do you know anything? It's a fucking Cerberus! The guardian of Greek Underworld, the big three-headed dog that is lulled into sleep with any music?“ I turned my head so I could see their stupid faces. „Nothing?“

„We never learned about him, never even heard about him. It might be a muggle thing to know about it.“

„Well fuck.“

„How do we get out?“ asked one of them.

„Try if he lets us go away,“ I looked at him and almost jumped back when he grovelled when one of them moved. „Fuck.“

„Maybe we can sing?“

„You would make him angrier with your hormone-filled voices. That funeral march slash school song almost broke my eardrums.“

„Can you do better?“ I could almost hear the raised eyebrow. I know I can, dad often tells me I have a decent voice when we rock out to older metal and rock bands. AC/DC, Iron Maiden, Helloween, Metallica and others – I have memorised most of their good albums. I like how angry-sounding screams can be made into an art piece. I also like rap music, but dad adores metal – and we are the only people in our family who do so, so we always enjoy it without my blond siblings.

It wasn't hard which song to pick – after all, I'm wearing Metallica shirt under my robes.

So close, no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters

Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don't just say
And nothing else matters

Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters

The Cerberus started to lay down, started to fall asleep. What a flattery.

Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
But I know

So close, no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters

Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
But I know

The dog started to snore so one twin opened the door and the rest of our group started to walk slowly backwards. I trickled into whistling the tune and closed the door – physically and with few strong spells that won't be as easy to break as the previous ones.

„That was fucking amazing,“ I started to laugh crazily, and after a moment, the twins joined me.

„That's a story – saved by a muggle song!“

„That will be written into legends!“

We started to laugh even more loudly and after a while, we needed to support each other to not fall to the cold stone ground.

„We need to look into why he's here,“ said twin I think is Fred.

„Fuck yeah.“

„Fuck yeah, “I and the other twin said in tandem which made us laugh again.

After all, danger always sounds interesting.

Chapter 5: Is there a monster in the school?

Chapter Text

Even though I know my magical parents died on Halloween, it's still my favourite holiday (I don't like it as much as I like Helloween though). I like scaring kids and if lucky, even teens or adults. And mum saw it as the only time I could watch horror movies on our TV – which is a shame because the stupidity of the characters is better than in any comedy – in real life I would want to get to them before the killer, but I don't mind when I know they are only (hopefully) playing it.

And Hogwarts makes it even better – I might not like most candy but chocolate cake for a diner is a fantastic idea (maybe not for my mostly non-existent sleep schedule…). Nonetheless, it still had its fuck-ups. Like the fact that I was forced to sit with my shitty House – and without my usual company consisting of three Gryffindors (fake Gryffindors, each of them is as much Gryff as I am Hufflepuff). Not that Hermione is even here – the worst Weasley, Ronald Motherfucker Weasley made her cry (he called her annoying bookworm, bossy bitch and know-it-all – in my books all of these, apart from the annoying, were compliments, but his tone made it into an insult). She stopped me from breaking his bones with a nasty hex I learned from a book I stole from one of my roommates (if they can, I can too), although it only slowed down his punishment. I somehow calmed down her tears with my muttering of how I will torture him and then she excused herself because she wanted to calm down in solitude. Twins will for sure help me, they like Hermione. And their brother? Not so much, I heard the story about how they transfigured his teddy bear into a venomous spider.

So when Quirrel ran into the Great Hall and screamed about the troll before fainting, I was thinking about Hermione. I sneaked through the panicking students and grabbed George by the shoulder (his robe has a visible stitch on the shoulder because when he was helping Hermione with cutting spell for her homework she shot a little too far up): „I don't know your secret but you need to find where Hermione is.“

Fred's eyes widened and pulled a paper out of his pocket. „I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,“ he said after pointing his wand on it. A drawing started to bloom on the aged parchment and when he opened it I could see what can be only described as a map filled with names. One spot was overfilled – I would guess that it is the Great Hall. We started to look for Hermione and before we drew attention to ourselves we found her. She was in a bathroom, near a hall that I recognised as the passage to dungeons.

„Fuck,“ we said in unison and after few clumsy steps and getting through the crowd we ran in that direction. I was lagging behind before one of them noticed and slowed down for me. Still, it was a crazy run without looking around so we almost ran into the beast. Thankfully the faster twin served as our stop sign when he stood still on the corner. „Shit, shit, shit, shit,“ he was whispering when the troll opened the bathroom door – a room where our only female friend was hiding.

„Fuck. What will we do?“

„Do you know any spell that works on trolls?“ asked… Fred. Yes, he has a dark freckle under his left eye. „I know none, only the spells that don't work.“

„I know a few darker spells from the book I stole, but I don't want to be expelled.“

„As long as we get away quick enough we should be ok. And I know only a few prank-like spells that could work – like jelly fingers or leg-binding. Or conjunctivitis curse, it makes it harder to see.“

„So you two try to distract it and I will grab Hermione. When I yell, you ran away.“

„Sure.“ '

„Let's hope we survive.“

„Nice optimism, Henry.“

„Go fuck yourself.“

George and I went first. He tried conjunctivitis curse and it didn't work. I saw Hermione, she was hiding under one of the sinks, scared into silence. That stupid troll (it makes sense that Troll is the worst grade in the magical community) was smashing porcelain few meters from her and hadn't even noticed our sneaky attack. Thankfully the leg-binding curse worked so when the beast tried to take a step towards her, he fell on the ground. I tried one of the strong fainting spells on him but he got only misty-eyed and tried to smash us with his wooden club. We jumped back and fell to the ground because of course, Fred chose that moment to run behind us. That broke Hermione's silence and she grabbed the trolls attention with her ear-piercing scream.

Then he broke the spell.

„Hey you motherfucker!“ I screamed when he came close to her. He turned around and I fired piercing spell into his eye. His skin wouldn't budge under it but his eye exploded into gory mush. It roared but Hermione successfully ran into Fred's arms and he helped her to escape the girl's bathroom. I almost got hit with the club when I paid them more attention then to the smelly monster. I fired a slashing hex but it bounced off and broke a mirror. Better than me.

George hit its weapon with a blasting curse which made it explode into tiny splinters – some pierced human flesh, but we were so pumped with adrenalin it wasn't painful. We ran after the second part of our group but the troll was surprisingly fast and because I'm the slower one it grabbed the back of my robes and then turned me around. It breathed into my face and I almost puked, before it opened its mouth-

I fired overpowered blasting curse into its mouth. The sound was deafening, simply because I was like a foot from the epicentre of the explosion. I fell on the ground and my ankle started to hurl like a bitch but I stood up regardless and limped to the shocked trio. „Let's go, before teachers arrive,“ I gritted through my teeth in pain, vanished the blood and brain chunks on my body and before I could hurry them up George offered his back to me.

„So we can be quicker,“ he reasoned with me. The pain made me do it and in ten minutes of quick walking and occasional running, we arrived in Gryffindor dorms. Everybody looked at us, but one sharp look from the twins shut them up.

„You think there will be no repercussion that I'm not in my dorms?“ I asked after George put me down on his bed. Hermione sat next to me and looked at me long enough that I figured out what she wants and offered her my hand. She smiled and grabbed it in a bone-breaking grip. „Ouch, woman. I have enough pain for one day.“

„Sorry,“ she lessened her grip but started to fuss around with my hair – and started pulling pieces of troll skull out of it. „You are disgusting, Henry.“

„It can't vanish solid things, because then it would be usable on bodies. And the brain is soft enough that it's counted as a vanish-able substance. Not that books wrote about it, I only hoped it would work on it. It's mostly used in potion-making so it vanishes the potion and not the vial.“

„Can you heal your ankle?“ asked Fred, George went into the public part of their dorm.

„It's not broken and it popped back into the socket so no spell can help me – I need to make a potion for dislocated joints.“

„And that works how?“ The bushy-haired girl asked.

„You either massage it into the skin or you make yourself a compress. I can make it in two hours but cold compress will work for now. However – George, come here, I will help you with those splinters.“

***

Teachers found the crime scene only few minutes after it was left by the group of students. And the pure gore made them sick – the knowledge that it was probably a student who did that made it even worse.

Walls, floor and even the ceiling were covered in parts of the troll – blood, organs, bone and teeth. Most of its upper body was damaged but the head was obviously the entry point for the curse that killed him. Thankfully not Avada, which made them little more calm – but Snape recognised the darker version of Bombarda – normal one marked the bathroom they found in ruins.

Flitwick and Quirell went and started to repair the female toilets, broken mostly by the dead beast – but there was magic in the air. Those wooden splinters were the worst because they were everywhere and cleaning them up was a chore.

McGonagall, Dumbledore cleaned up the hall and Snape, as the only Dark Arts expert in the school looked at the corpse with his sharp gaze. After few spells he even knew what happened to the beast – its eye was pierced with piercing charm (dark grey, on the verge of being illegal), there were attempts to cut it and some splinters surprisingly pierced through the softer skin on its hands. Then the blasting curse hit it in its mouth – killing it instantly. So no major surprises – but who did it? Most teachers suspected some Slytherin that found the troll when coming to their dorms because the murder was never reported. Not that it would be punished – Dumbledore was more than happy to cleanse the stench of dark magic and he would even award points to the brave beast-slayer. Did it mean that person was ashamed that they used such means? Or worse – did they enjoy it and were secretive because they feared their nature would be revealed?

Was there a monster in the group of students?

***

Jordan Lee is twins' friend that doesn't really hang out with them when I do, so it was weird to see them talk with him so friendly. Their fourth roommate was called Kenneth Towler, a rather calm Lion.

Hermione was a little nervous around them and I hoped it would make her sleep in her own bed but she made her mind and I became a teddy bear against my will. I offered I would rather sleep on the ground or with one of the twins but they only laughed. I cursed them (not only with my words).

After we got out all the splinters we showered and I ended up with too-big sleeping pants and sweater with a big F in the middle of it. It was nice, soft and warm, the best type of sweater there is. I would sleep in my day-clothes but twins almost wrestled me into these (I would never tell them I was comfortable in their stuff). Hermione went to her room and came back in flannel two-piece pyjamas (I was never happier that someone didn't wear a nightie) and even brought me a bandage roll.

„Thanks,“ I put my swelled ankle on the bed and fixed it into place with firm tugs on the pristine white cloth. „I will give you one of mine tomorrow.“

„No need, take it as a thank you,“ she went red and sat next to me. „Does it still hurt?“

„Not as bad as an hour ago, but it will be so much fucking worse tomorrow from my experience.“

„The girl will sleep here too?“ Lee asked, surprised when she started to close the curtains from his side.

„She's a little scared of the troll,“ reasoned George with a tight smile. „And Henry got lost in the crowd so that's why he's here.“ They exchanged long looks but after a while, the boy with afro backed down. If Hermione cut her hair sort, would she have an afro too?

„Hermione, do you have any fun book? I don't know if I have a sleep-night tonight.“

„We read books too, you know?“ said mockingly hurt Fred and jumped on his own bed that we occupied. „And you should go to sleep little raven, you had a long day. Sleep heals all wounds!“

„I'm not feeling like-“ before I could finish that thought I broke into a yawn that made all people in the room roar in laughter. „You fucking bitches, shut up.“

So I went to sleep before two in the morning that night – but I still stole twins' book about runes. It was easy – heavy on memorising which is my strong suit. I fell asleep on it and almost woke up when one of the gingers slipped it from under me. I vaguely remember trying to defend it but after he took it for good I fell into the depths of sleep soon after that.

Then I woke up there was warmth on my back, curtains drawn and silence behind them. It was easy to see I wasn't sleeping in my own bed – so much red almost burned my eyes out. Then I remembered yesterday and hissed when I moved my leg. Fuck my life and anyone that contributed to my existence. „Leech, stop your abuse of my personal space,“ I told Hermione and with well-aimed elbow jab I made her turn her back on me.

„Bad teddy,“ she mumbled and crushed a pillow in her death-hug. Wouldn't want to be that poor stuffed corpse.

After a much-needed piss, I washed my face, combed my hair with fingers and went on a hunt for my glasses. The book thief must have taken them down too and now I can't find them! So I opened their bed-curtains and shook them awake. „Hey dumbasses, where are my glasses? I can't see shit!“

„On the bedside table,“ he pointed on HIS table where after few misses I finally found my eye-sight. I put them on and finally was able to look them in the eyes with a stern gaze.

„You look like Minnie,“ yawned Fred from the other side of the bed. „Why are you up so early - it's Saturday.“

„I'm an early riser.“

„And you usually go to sleep super late.“

„Correct.“

„You're a fucking monster,“ George moaned into the pillow while his twin put on a robe.

„I will help you to get to your dorms for your things if you want.“

„I will need some help with the potion, I'm afraid I won't be too swift when danger arises.“

„I will happily help you, my master,“ he bowed mockingly but I took it with my most regal face.

„I always enjoy a cheap workforce.“

An hour later we were in a vacant dusty classroom that we cleaned into perfection and with my supplies, we started the potion for damaged joints and swelling. I also prepared a cauldron for a painkiller potion.

„This is kind of nice – not brewing in the blasted room where we sleep,“ Fred said after he prepared the base of the potion. It was a proper pale blue colour and it had almost an hour of simmering in front of it. In another cauldron, I was making the second part that will be added after that long wait.

„Yeah, my experimentation was cut short when everybody in my dorm room learned how to vanish potions,“ I furrowed my brows in my never forgotten fury. He put water in the third dish and began to cut lavender (used in most potions for its calming properties – like calming or sleeping draughts). He put it in the water and started the fire under it – it was kind of like making a lavender tea.

„Think you could charm this room enough so nobody could get into it?“

„Sure, especially after some research into warding. Why?

„We could use it in future – like our personal laboratory.“ That kind of surprised me so I lifted my head and looked at him. I went through the pluses and minuses in a fraction of a second and then nodded. I found only few minuses – like the problems if we fucked up and nobody could find us or if somebody found us.

„I think we can even make it into our personal study room if we hunt down some furniture,“ I mussed and threw spider exoskeleton into the second part of the potion. „It would certainly be better than a crowded library, dorms or some random place we would change every time.“ I thought about it, but then I said: „Good idea.“ He deserved that one.

Chapter 6: Christmas

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

After almost half a day of travel Hermione and I were finally only a few minutes away from the Kings Cross station. Twins and their siblings were left behind because their parents rather left to Romania to look at cool dragons – or at least that's what I gathered from their letter.

I quite enjoyed the ride, we started with playing few rounds of chess (not to brag but I won most of our matches) and then continued with a silent reading of our library books – I took interest in runes after stealing George's and Fred's textbook. But now I read much more complicated texts than them – as I thought, runes are really easy for me to learn as I don't need to learn pronunciation.

Oh, how I hated French in my muggle-school years… I learned Latin because it's useful (especially for someone who espiers to be a doctor), but French with its sadistic tongue breaking pronunciation almost truly broke me. Mother is good with languages and always was a bitch about me hating her most favourite one. To be honest, only Elizabeth is good with languages – the rest of my siblings and me despise them. Even my stupid older siblings are better in the sciency side of learning. Fridrich is decent in math and physics, Marie in chemistry and biology. Ludvik is smarter (not my level but better than the rest of our blond siblings), but still – he excels in science.

„Are you excited?“

„Why?“ I asked, surprised she tore her hungry eyes from her history book. How can I speak with someone this weird?

„I missed my parents, but you also have your siblings! Siblings are like friends, aren't they?“

„You make it really obvious you are an only child, you happy soul.“

„Come on, you get the best deliveries!“ That is true, out of us four I get the best post – I usually ask for some books from my previous studies and lend them to twins – and sometimes they go out of Hogwarts to their father who is interested in muggle technology – which I only support, older people usually stop learning and that is even worse than being stupid. He sent me a letter with an invitation to their home, the Burrow, so we can geek out (not his words) together – he has a flying car. FUCKING. FLYING. CAR. It made ME happy, TWINS happy and their father was over the moon happy. And it made Ronald furious so that is a plus too. My mother also sends me sweets because she knows I sometimes forget to sleep and need an energy boost in the middle of the day.

Dad on the other hand sent me personal letters about the litigation about the merchandise and books written with my name or fake face on them. It angered him when we found the books and after we looked into less popular stores in the Diagon Alley we saw the worst advertisements – ‚Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived uses our shampoo and he said that: This is the only shampoo that makes my hair soft and good-smelling!‘ , ‚Our boots are boy-who-lived approved for their adventure prone design!‘ and more. McGonagall helped us by sending information about her friends that work in the magical law agency – Mrs and Mr Tonks. They helped dad with everything and in my last letter from him, I read about how well the investigation is going.

„I do, but the psychical distress still doesn't make it worth it. They are annoying, stupid and sadistic.“

„Well, of course – they are your blood!“ She laughed and I threw a book at her. She screamed but continued to laugh, trying to kick my shins.

„I'm not stupid!“

„Just annoying sadist,“ she snickered and managed to kick my jean-clad knee.

„I hate you.“

„Love you too. What will you do during holidays?“ she asked, her smile almost blinding. Her teeth are in perfect condition, as one would expect from a child of two dentists.

„Watch some TV, brew, maybe try to catch my parents putting presents under the tree… you know, the usual. How about you?“

„We are going to France, mainly to ski. What did you buy twins for Christmas? I ordered some less common potion ingredients for Fred and a book about animagus transformation for George.“

„I bought them bigger school robes,“ I answered.

„What? Why?“

„They are already as tall as their older brothers were in their fifth year – so they will probably outgrow them. I charmed them to adapt to the wearer's body and to be almost indestructible. It will fade out in five years and then the robes will fall apart – however, when that time arrives, they will be out of school.“

„That's really sweet of you Henry.“

„Say that once more and I will shit in your present.“ She went green, then red and ended on pale.

„I take it back you disgusting being.“ It made me smile so widely my lips almost cracked.

Then the train stopped. We started to packed our things and waited for the crowds to leave the train before we came out and through the barrier. I quickly noticed my family – unusually big group even on the train station. Few steps from them were two adults, the man had a big mane of brown curls that made me sure he was Hermione's dad. They quickly noticed us and waved in unison.

„Mum, dad!“ Hermione called out and left her trunk behind with me to run into a hug. Dad got a weird spark in his eyes and before my brain connected the dots my legs were dragging me away from his attempted big hug. I hid behind the Granger family.

„Stop it, you give them ideas,“ I hissed at her smiling faces and evaded Marie who also tried to assault me.

„Dad, mum, this is Henry Bundy. Henry, these are Dan and Jean Granger.“

„Nice to meet you, Henry,“ the woman smiled at me.

„Sure- PUT ME DOWN YOU FUCKING OVERGROWN CHILD!“ I screamed at my surprisingly sneaky father who picked me up by the waist and hugged me.

„Say you missed us.“

„Missed you, asshole.“

„I said us.“

„Dad told me not to lie, bitch.“ Then he tried to break my ribs, so I saved my life with: „Missed you all,“ with my last breath.

„You must be Mr and Mrs Granger – my son wrote to me about your daughter.“

„Oh, really?“ smiled Dan widely. „Hermione also wrote about him.“ I exchanged a look with her – neither of us is stupid so we know what they suggesting. We rolled our eyes in unison which made me not notice the other hugging beasts.

„Henry! You're back!“ Ludvik hugged me around my waist, Marie hung herself on back and mum pulled me to herself from the side. I tried to play dead.

„We missed our random curse word generator,“ she mumbled into my ear with damp breath. It made me get goosebumps so I stepped on her foot.

„My family is disgusting!“ I bemoaned when she kissed my head – thankfully after that, I was released so I could try to rub the feeling of being hugged by hexapus (six-legged octopus) off. „I'm sorry for their actions – but you are no better,“ I added because Grangers were one arm hugging the poor girl from each side.

„You are truly hilarious, Henry,“ she rolled her eyes. Weird, she started to call me an asshole, when I do antisocial things, like a month ago. Oh, parents... I never realise that one.

„Nice holiday, Grangers.“

„You too, Henry. Try to be in the holiday spirit.“

„His Christmas spirit is green and hates the holiday,“ the oldest Bundy kid giggled.

„I'm not Grinch – my heart would never grow.“

„Like you have one.“

„Oh, and how would I live without it, idiot?“

„I meant the metaphorical one-“

„You know big words? What a good boy, Fridrich!“

„I will throttle you in your sleep, brat.“

„Kids, leave the death threats for later – people are looking at us weird.“

„No, they just saw his stupid face,“ I replied cheekily and almost got kicked in my crotch.

Oh, family... how I hate their stupid fucking faces...

***

We were watching Christmas movies into the night like always – I hogged the furthest chair and did my homework with one eye on the TV screen. I couldn't use my usual means of writing so I was scratching on the fucking parchment with vengeance. I didn't really care about making it legible (and my charms essay was so bad I couldn't even read it myself).

I finished the last one on the second day of my holiday, at 2:34 A.M. Fucking History.

Of course, the first day that I really paid attention to what's happening they put on Grinch. I remember I loved it as a child – all kid movies are so bright and cheerful (I never felt like I could live in those worlds) but Grinch was grumpy, nasty (and kind of similar to me, in a way – he was even resourceful in his own way). So yes, I was the only child that hated the good ending, only one hoping he would succeed and ruin Christmas for Whos. And then mother played it every Christmas and I grew bored of it. Now it leaves a sour taste in my mouth because of the knowledge that heart growth can bring only one result – death. By a heart-attack. A great future for a child's favourite character, isn't it? (Still, I would love to live on a mountain, with people nowhere near so I would have a solitary space for my experimenting habits.)

„Harry, you need to tell us more about your school year – your letters are quite dry,“ dad sat next to me at the diner table. In front of us was a big Christmas diner – stuffed turkey, mashed potatoes, rich gravy, steaming vegetables... my mouth was watering the whole day because I could smell it even through potion fumes. But I enjoyed the slightly toxic fumes because it meant I was safe from socialization. None of them wanted to be near the potential boom.

„I'm not an author, so no surprises there.“

„Still, tell us about the Cerberus – you wrote about him last in November and I was interested in how you advanced.“

„After we befriended him like I last wrote to you, we went down the trap door. There was a magnificent Devil's Snare - it's a special partially sentient plant that can kill you! But light hurts it so simple Lumos.“

„A sentient plant?“ Elizabeth choked out, coughing because her food went into a wrong windpipe. Fridrich helped her with back blows to clear her airway.

„Yeah, it can strangle a fully grown human. It grows in dark humid places.“

„I will never visit our basement – I know you, you will try to plant it there.“

„Mum already forbade me from doing that.“

„You never listen to rules,“ Fridrich accused me.

„True, but we made a pact – no Devil's Snare and I can plant some potion ingredients in the back.“

„That's true,“ she smiled. „What was there next?“ They don't mind our adventure with Cerberus – and I never told them about the troll because then they wouldn't be as chill. Also, I kept the fact that the dog wasn't really friendly at the beginning and almost bit George's hand clean off close to my chest. There are many things I did that would give my parents a heart attack...

„There is a room filled with keys and one wooden door on the end of the oblong premise. It was protected enough that we couldn't break it or open it with spells so we needed to catch one of the keys. Fred caught it after, like, half an hour. Behind the doors, there was a giant chess game that I won't pretty easily with my usual strategy-“

„The ‚Only the king needs to live‘ strategy?“

„Exactly. It wasn't expecting I would do that. So after that, there was a room with a magical beast that we stunned.“ It was another troll but my paranoia (thankfully) made me access the forbidden part of the library (after almost dying) and we (me, twins and Hermione) learned the strongest stunner known to light wizards. It wouldn't work on something stronger and we tried to learn it for three weeks but it paid off. „Then there was a room with a riddle and a bunch of potions, which was laughably easy, especially when I sniffed them to make sure. So we went through a door of fire and there is the fuck up – there was only a room with nothing in it!“ I couldn't help myself and impaled my turkey with a little too much strength.

„That's weird – why so many challenges when there is nothing on the end?“ Mother asked with a furrowed brow.

„I have no fucking idea – it made me crazy with fury and twins were not better.“

„Hermione wasn't there?“ Dad asked with a wide smile.

„No, she told us it's stupid.“

„Your girlfriend is a smart girl.“

„She's not my girlfriend, dickhead. She might be a girl and my friend, but not a girlfriend.“

„Of course she's not – even someone with rabbit teeth is above his level,“ Fridrich sneered and Marie added: „I still can't believe that Henrietta got friends.“

„First – you know you will end as rabbit before the end of the next year, yes brother dearest? And why wouldn't I have friends? I'm a joy to be around,“ I said with venom laced sarcasm.

„I think you know very well why – after all they are your first friends beside people twice your age.“

„Not my problem they are the first smart people around my age I ever met,“ I hissed and angrily ate another morsel of food. „It's better than having a group of friends that cannot count to ten.“

„Sais a boy who couldn't even guess if someone is afraid or surprised.“ Now she's getting nasty. Mother tried to stop Marie from fighting with me but she's as much of an argumentative person as I am.

„It's difficult to read people!“

„Maybe for a psychopath-“

„Antisocial personality disorder, keep track of the current terminology if you want to accuse me of things, cunt.“

„That's sociopath, you crazy rabbit murderer-“

„It wasss already dead, I only wanted to sssee-“

„Children! Not over a diner!“ Dad tried to calm us down but plates were already shaking and her knuckles were white – there was only a little percent of the possibility that we would calm down.

„I kind of missed your disgusting mug but now I wish the train derailed and you died in it!“

„Marie! Go to your room young lady!“ Mom yelled, obviously shocked. It's not too often that we start yelling like that but when we do she's usually the nastier one with her words.

„Go and get yourself killed by your stupid potion,“ she hissed at me before she left. The turkey exploded and I could only hiss at her like an angry snake. Oh, how do I adore my loving siblings and family dinners – and they wonder why I rather starve myself or take the food to my room.

I calmed myself through cursing for too long of a time – I fell behind in my managing rituals in school where I had fewer reasons to get so fired up. I haven't apologised because I couldn't really stop my magic from reacting – but I did help with the cleaning up. The mood was killed as nobody had a smile on their faces anymore.

***

I couldn't fall asleep even though I was a walking corpse with under-eye bags so purple and blue they looked like black-eyes. I was sketching a Quidditch player because my crazy sleep-deprived brain was remembering the last one I was forced to watch by Hermione and twins. I evaded the one where twins played because Hermione lacks their search engine but the second time I was held between two gingers and Hermione was threatening me to sit on my lap if I moved more than necessary. We cheered for Hufflepuff but they lost to my House which made me irritated – I slept in the slowly changing classroom that our group occupied because of how loud the Ravenclaws were.

Mostly I remembered how calm I was and it even made me sleep for almost an hour – when I woke up with a jerk, it was three in the morning. I figured out it was late enough to open the gifts that the stupid nocturnal bird brought to me yesterday, waking me up from my nap on my desk.

First I opened Hermione's gift – seeds for my planned garden. We talked a lot about it so it wasn't too surprising but my sleepy brain was unusually happy with such a simple gift. With it, she sent me french chocolate with salt in it. I tried it – it was weird but delicious. I must have made a sight to see – sitting on my damaged floor, eyes half-lidded in bliss and surrounded by four gifts – one of them opened of course. Am I even making sense?

Next, I opened a gift from Mr Weasley – he was grateful for the books I sent him and apologized he couldn't give me more but I was happy to receive my own Weasley sweater with H on the front. It was navy with light yellow contrasting wool and I pulled it over my head. It was as comfortable as the one I never gave back to Fred, only my size. Under it was a smaller box with homemade sweets that I tried but didn't like – I will give them to mum, her sweet-tooth will enjoy them.

A soft gift without a name of the giver on it was next – there was a note added to it: ‚This cloak was your fathers. He lent it to me before he died and now that you know about the magic world I thought you might enjoy it in your after-curfew walks through the halls. Have a nice Christmas.‘ Unsigned, written by hand as unskilled in calligraphy as mine. I tried it on – it was cool, a good robe for summer I guess. But then I looked at my hands – and saw nothing. I started to laugh and if anybody heard it they would send me to a mental hospital. Thankfully nobody screamed at me before I calmed down. This will be the best thing for pranking! I quickly hid it in my suitcase with a giddy smile before I opened the last gift, this one from twins.

It exploded into my face, covering me in a soft powder that made me cough a little but otherwise I was fine. No swelling, no itching – so it will be something mild. Maybe colour-changing? I couldn't see any results so I gave it time and started to look through their gift. There were three potion vials with different pranking potions they made before we knew each other and two parchments. One of them said: ‚You know how the map works. And make us proud, baby-prankster. PS: family is the best target, in our opinion.‘ I grinned widely, hid the map and used my awake time for some shenanigans.

Let's say nobody wanted to be with me in one car slash room after that... but all of them wanted me on the train as quickly as possible (I wrote a letter to twins with praise filling most of the page – I put their potions into the cookies, milk and the sweets that their father sent to me, all things I don't eat so it wasn't suspicious. They were turned into purple beings with horns on their forehead for two hours! It was glorious!) so dad took me so early to the King's Cross station that I waited almost for an hour before the train left the station and even longer before Hermione found me.

„What happened to you?“ I raised my head from the book I was currently reading and raised my eyebrow. „You coloured your hair?“

„It was part of my gift from the twins,“ I grinned at her. „Next time you will be included too if you want.“

„No, thanks. How did you like my gift?“

„Very useful and the chocolate was the best thing French made since the guillotine.“

„You're horrible,“ she rolled her eyes with a smile. I told her how I made my family hate and/or fear me at the same time which made her laugh but she tried to suppress it. „You're the worst, Bundy.“

„How did you like my gift?“ I took her mind of that.

„It's an interesting book – how did you think of that?“

„I read through it and thought you seemed like a person who would be interested in the possibility to brew their own cosmetic products.“

„Are you trying to tell me I look like a girl?“ she giggled.

„No, you look like a fucking hippie that doesn't want to support capitalism.“ She only rolled her eyes before pulling her gift from twins – a book about politics in the magical world and started to tell me all she found out. I zoomed out after approximately five minutes and fell asleep. It was the longest one in weeks, I slept most of the way to Hogwarts and even woke up covered by her school robe like it was a blanket and a hoodie, that I previously threw next to me, folded into a pillow under my head.

(My dream wasn't as nice - It was about the argument I had with Marie and the reason she mentioned it - last year her pet rabbit died from old age on Christmas Day and I was too curious to let my chance slip. I never dissected something that big and she caught me literally red-handed.)

I was happy to see Hogwarts - just those skeletal horses pulling the carriages surprised me.

Notes:

I promise his family is not as mean as they might sound - but writing through his eyes makes them sound worse than they are (They 'feared' him because they didn't want to get pranked again.).

Chapter 7: The Mirror of Erised

Chapter Text

„We were walking around, looking for potential furniture, when we found a mirror in a vacant classroom with nothing else in it.“

„So we walked up to it, you know, as nosy as usually-“

„And it showed us not only...well...us.“

„On top of it was written: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi-“

„Which means: I show not your face but your heart's desire.“

„So its simply read from the end to the beginning.“

„Shut up Henry.“

„Shut up Henry.“

„Shut up Henry.“ I expected it from twins, but Hermione too? I feel betrayed but the soft couch they stole from somewhere makes it all better.

„So, like we wanted to say before we were so rudely interrupted,“ I rolled my eyes in annoyance, „it was a pretty mirror.“

„So much potential – we knew it would look gorgeous in one of the corners,“ George swept his hand like he was showing us something we never saw.

„It was a big, old-timey, golden thing with claw-like feet, so we needed to use spells – but they didn't work.“

„It must have been what triggered some type of alarm because before we could do anything,“

„Dumbledore scared the shit out of us.“

„He told us about the meaning of the writing on the top of the frame,“

„-and even asked us what we saw.“

„And what did you see?“ Hermione asked.

„I saw us in our own prank business,“ George smiled widely.

„I saw us in a cosy living room, brewing potions and throwing spells right and left,“ Fred mimicked his twins face.

„Us? Like Hermione, me and you two?“

„Yeah!“ came from both of them. Huh, interesting.

„So, where is it now? Can't say I'm not intrigued and curious.“ Hermione nodded – curiosity is one of the few personality traits our group shares.

„That's the worst thing – Dumbledore made us swear we would never try to find it-“

„-because not just one man lost himself in it.“

„And the next day it was gone.“

„The only good thing is that the swear wasn't something like an unbreakable vow.“

„Just plain old muggle ‚no worry sir, we will never try to do that with crossed fingers behind our back.“

„But where could he hide it?“ I asked rhetorically, my mind already whirling with ideas.

„We think it's the thing that is guarded by the dog and such.“

„That so-called toy you found?“ Hermione raised her eyebrow with a small smile. „Are you sure it's not just that you want to try to finish it in a better time?“

„You can go with us this time.“ I was on board in a snap of a finger, I quite enjoyed the challenges. „Then we will have enough time and no distractions when we prepare for the finals.“

„That's true you old liar...“ she mussed. „I know you're just manipulating me but I'm really interested in what it will show me. Think we can do it tonight?“

„Of course, the curfew starts in five hours and the last time we finished it in two hours – now we should be much more successful.“

„I knew you were timing it!“

So we put on our shoes and with a quick stride, we walked into Cerberuse's room. He barked hello to us and after a good belly-rub, he let us in without a problem – just buckets of saliva. The Devil's Snare welcomed us with its ‚tender‘ hug that we dispelled with four fairly over-powered Lumoses. I couldn't help but smile when I saw Hermione looking around with wide chocolate brown eyes. The keys were again the biggest annoyance but it took less time than before – Fred was able to capture it in fifteen minutes and thirty-two seconds.

„Good job – next time you could make it under ten minutes.“

„Don't talk to me like Wood, it's scary.“

„Who?“ I asked, bewildered.

„Our Quidditch captain.“

„Good thing he doesn't know Fred is a decent seeker, the one we have now is horrible,“ George snickered and opened the door. The prepared chessboard was waiting for us. „Wanna play, Hermione? That madman killed enough of those poor figures last time.“

„Sure. We played together in train – his playstyle is horrible and genius at the same time. Henry, you will be queen, twins go and fill the knight spots.“

„Sure, my king,“ we answered in unison. I went to the middle of the board and let her win on her own – if she can best me, she can this board. She lost a lot fewer figures but it took her longer to win so tit for tat, in my humble opinion. Twins were happier, as I almost got them killed – Hermione was keeping them safe and even used her Queen less than she would in a normal play.

We dealt with the troll in the same way (the room was reeking with the smell of old piss and shit, so the typical troll smell was almost pleasant) and continued into the riddle room. „Let me!“ she hissed at Fred when he tried to grab the thankfully full potion vial. I wasn't thinking about the possibility there would be no way how we could get to the last room.

‚Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,
One among us seven will let you move ahead,
Another will transport the drinker back instead,
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
You will always find some on nettle wine’s left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end,
But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.‘

A lovely riddle, that even I needed some time to decipher – personal guess, its the work of the one and only Severus Snape. I also think that the Devil's Snare was Sprouts baby, those fucking keys could only fucking Flitwick think of – but the chess? I have no idea. Twins think it has McGonagall written all over it but why chess and not some cool transfigured animals? Like dragons made out of chairs? That would be really cool.

She figured it out in the end and after I nodded at her guess she lit up and we finally took a swig each and went through the purple fire. There was some happy laughter when the twins' guess was confirmed.

A big mirror stood in the middle of the previously empty room with stone walls. There were two torches, illuminating it. I went in front of it – and puffed out my cheeks in anger because there was nothing more than myself. Not older, not holding a diploma or similar shit. Just me.

„It's broken,“ I told them. „Try it,“ I took Hermione by the elbow and moved aside.

„Why do you say that, it works!“ She furrowed her brows in surprise. „I can see myself holding perfect N.E.W.T. results, you three and my family around me, congratulating me. Wasn't it just subtle?“

I tried it again, scowling on my own reflection like a madman. Still, nothing. When it moved without me doing so I straightened my back and looked myself in the eyes. He held his finger to his lips and put something in his pocket – but I felt my own jean pocket get heavy. I pulled out a red stone and raised an eyebrow on him. He just winked and grinned before he turned back to a normal reflection – no cool stuff around me. „Guys, it gave me a rock,“ I turned around and showed them. „And it's still broken.“

„I think we have the answer, baby-prankster.“

„Dumbles said that only a happy and satisfied person can use it as a normal mirror.“

„I'm not a happy person,“ I dead-paned.

„Maybe happy with your current situation?“ Hermione tried to rationalise.

„I personally think you take your ambitions already as a hundred percent things,“

„– almost like you already reached them-“

„-so you don't really long for them.“

„It's called confidence.“

„I think it's called arrogance, Henry.“ Hermione jabbed me between the ribs with her surprisingly sharp finger.

„Or ego too big for a young boy,“ added one of the gingers, the other one ruffling my hair.

„Go fuck yourselves,“ I mumbled and put the rock back into my pocket. „Let's go out, I want to find a book about magical rocks.“

I actually found a book about Magical rocks, but I couldn’t find that particular one in it. I tried another one, this one much slimmer, and exactly like I guessed when I picked the thicc boy instead of it, nada. I tried to cut it, break it, but nothing worked – but when I put the knife on it, my precious steel blade turned to gold.

„THE FUCK?!“ I exclaimed in shock and threw it into the wall. It tinkled but that was all it did. When I touched the stone with a metal stick the same thing happened. So I looked for a stone that can change metal into gold but could find nothing. Twins were clueless too, even though they are born and raised wizards. It’s not surprising Hermione was as angry as I that we couldn’t figure it out.

When I got really angry they needed to reason with me (and physically stop me) that asking a teacher would mean that they would take it away. So I put it in a paper box with runes turning the paper almost fully black – thanks to that it was hard as steel, could be opened only by me and then I hid it on the bottom of my suitcase. Done. Never want to see it again.

At that point, it was the fucking end of February (I must say, my patience was immense) and Hermione started to panic about the exams. I helped her when she got burned out with sleeping potions and twins often carried her from the library or our room to their dorms. The fact that they are two years our senior didn't mean they were left out of this – she made them study as hard as she was and when they got really annoyed, she made me tutor them in runes, transfiguration, herbology... and when she got really nasty, potions. I know I'm a bad tutor, worse than Snape in my snarling (after all, that's why we like each other so much) – however, twins took it with patience and I think I made better brewers out of them in the end (and more importantly, I made them into better inventors).

***

„Calm down Hermione,“ I caught her after our last exam by the elbow and manhandled her away from the library.

„But I'm sure I answered the thirteenth question incorrectly!“

„What did you write?“

„That if you transform anything into food it can't be eaten – but what if you change food into different food? I totally forgot about that possibility!“

„It was asking only about changing inedible objects, stupid,“ I tried to calm her down with words but I had chocolate prepared in my pocket. And Calming Draught. „I answered similarly to you.“

„You for sure added something above our level, don't lie to me!“

„I wrote a short summary of experiments done on people in the eighteenth century – some dark wizards made muggles eat meals transfigured from wood and then monitored how they reacted and if they survived. Most of those ‚lab rats‘ died of internal bleeding or malnutrition. So the simple answer without a history lesson is alright, I just wanted to share my knowledge with her.“

„You just wanted to make her sick,“ she rolled her eyes, calmer than before. I offered her the chocolate nonetheless and she ate it in seconds. Usually, she would crinkle her nose and say she likes her teeth nice and healthy but today was a different day.

We relaxed in our room, shoes off and minds blank when we talked about our plans for summer.

„My parents and I were planning another trip to France, I wanted to look into their magical community. But the rest of the holidays... you could visit me?“

„I guess, I already have a stay at Weasley residence agreed on – I do not mind some travelling. Well, if your parents won't try to make me behave or are against some of my tendencies.“

„I warned them before Christmas break and they took it well when they met you, I think. However, they will work most of the days. I think I could make them agree to twins arriving too... they are just not as happy about them.“

„Why?“

„Because they are boys entering puberty? And three boys with one girl sounds kind of bad.“ I raised my head from the rug and looked at her surprised. „Don't look at me like that, you know how parents sometimes think. Like the girlfriend boyfriend comment.“

„That's true. If they are not ok with so much testosterone, you can visit me instead – my mother is a stay-at-home mother so there would be less stay alone time.“

„I'll try to ask. But besides that, would will you do?“

„For sure brew a lot, read books, catch up with muggle science papers, work on my garden, terrorise my family... and I want to try out embroidery – I read that runes can be stitched into clothes and I would like to try that.“

„I only know how to croche, sorry.“

„I looked at some classes and found one that I will probably attend.“

„I would love to be a fly on a wall when you walk there for the first time,“ she started to giggle.

„Why?“

„I doubt there will be some other male or someone younger than thirty.“

„I can deal with old hags.“

„But can they deal with you?“

Chapter 8: Summer holidays

Notes:

PROCRASTINATION, I SHALL CALL YOU ASSASSINS CREED VALHALLA!

Chapter Text

This time I had no chance to read as much as I could with only Hermione in the compartment. Twins taught us Exploding Snap, which was kind of fun – but I prefer muggle card games so I promised I would bring a deck of cards next school year. Hermione then said she could bring some board games because her family has an abundance of them at home (Twins found Ludo - Don't get angry funny and renamed it into Henry - Don't get angry. How original of them! That joke was already done by my siblings five years ago.).

 We met the Weasleys first because they were waiting on the platform and not outside of it. Percy and  Dickhead were already waiting with their parents, waiting for us – again, we waited for the worst and biggest crowd to get out. There was also their youngest sibling, Ginevra. „You must be Henry!” Arthur Weasley very quickly singled me out and went for a handshake – after a moment I did the normal thing and didn't just sneer at him. „Arthur Weasley, I'm happy to finally meet such a bright young man personally.”

„Nice to meet you too. Not often do I meet people who are so passionate about technology,” I tried to act nice so he would let me drive his car later in the summer. My friends look at me like they didn't know me and of course, Fred took my chin and started to move my head so he could see it in all its glory – George started to circle around me and poke me with an annoyingly sharp finger. „What the fuck you assholes!” I kicked Fred in the crotch and batted away George. One of them was on the ground in a blink of an eye – guess who?

„You were acting like a nice person,” Fred moaned from his embryo position. I kicked him again, this time in his thigh and with less strength put into it. Hermione giggled but helped him up.

„You were really acting like a completely different person,” she smiled at me and behind Fred so not to get hit by a chocolate frog wrapper. And the ginger was hit again! I almost fist-pumped in victory. Then I turned around on instinct and kicked the other one – he was trying to attack me from behind, so  I had all the reasons to kick him, right?

„Stop it, boy,“ their mother finally spoke up, frowning.

„This?“ I raised my brow and kicked George in the knee. Fred got three hits, so he should too.

„Yes, that! And your language is atrocious, your mother should wash your mouth out with soap!“ Her shrieks were strong enough to make my ears hurt (thankfully not bleed) and to bring the attention of many parents to us.

„And your voice is so high pitched it should be marked as a weapon,“ I answered quickly and folded my arms on my chest. Twins warned me she was that type of person but forgot to tell me how loud she is. „Good thing I will be a host of your husband and children and not you, you fucking hag.“ For the first time in my life, I was glad Fridrich was always a proactive bully – he liked to practise his aim on me when he started to play football, later tennis and one time even darts (mum stopped that one very quickly) – so this training prepared me for dodging her spell. Kind of.

It hit some other kid – he started to foam up in the mouth and was spitting bubbles in no time. Before I could ask: „What the fuck?“ Twins grabbed me and my belongings, dragging me through the portal. „What was that?“

„I would guess a mouth washing with soap?“ Hermione answered me.

„Duh, but why?“

„I can say only one thing – fuck.“

„Glad she didn't do it in front of dad, he doesn't like when someone tries to discipline us physically.“

George put me down when I waved at my parents and Grangers, who were speaking like good friends. My siblings were nowhere in sight – which I'm thankful for (I hope twins won't like them more than myself).

„Hello,“ I said and took my suitcase from Fred.

„Hi, Harry,“ mum smiled and went for a hug – I tried to block her with the trunk but it didn't help too much.

„Get off me, woman.“

In my peripheral vision, I could see Grangers trying to kill their daughter by asphyxiation, not even her smile made it better. Masochist.

„You are Henry's friends?“ dad shook twins' hands separately.                       

„Forge and Gred Weasley,“ they grinned at him. He smiled too but also rolled his eyes. He knows their names, I wrote about them more than few times.

„Did Henry tell you the date?“

„Yes, Mr Bundy,“ answered George, much better at the ‚innocent angel face‘.

„Will you need to get picked up?“

„No, dad will apparate us.“

„Which means...?“

„It's like instant transportation.“

„Oh. Sure. Henry, you'll need to tell me more at home.“

„I'm going to miss you three,“ Hermione attacked me from the side when mother stepped to the side.

„Sure dad. See you in two weeks, Hermione!“ I tried to pry her off but then twins made it impossible – one on my other side and the other on my front. Kicking them in balls was too merciful of me. I should have completely cut them off. I almost managed to bite the body in front of me but Hermione grabbed my jaw and made it impossible to bite. So I stepped on her foot and then put all my weight into her – if there weren't two pairs of decently strong arms holding us, we would fall to the ground.

„You're surprisingly heavy for four twigs and slightly wider branch.“

„Shut the fuck up and let go of me.“

***

Hermione was right – embroidery course is the most popular with older women that don't like ‚crude little boys that just stopped holding their mother's skirt‘. But – and this one is important – they like young boys that can be better than a female in their craft (at least with only a week of practice) and don't bitch about any criticism. After all, I was never told I'm a bad student – just a bad person.

Everybody made fun of me when after a week I always came home with cookies and pink dots on my cheeks (who would guess that old wrinkly fingers that have often problems with shaking could be that strong?). In a moment of not paying attention, too focused on my embroidery of Hogwarts, I got a lipstick mark on my cheek – and I couldn't get it off. My mother needed to use her make-up remover to get me rid of it – I was on a verge of bleaching it or drowning myself in alcohol.

I was sitting in a chair with my legs crossed (I like calling it bastardised lotus position), wooden circle on my lap and eyes half opened in drowsiness.

„Forgot to go to sleep, old man?“ For some reason they found my personality funny, saying I'm similar to their old husbands – grumpy, crude and bitchy. I believe grumpy and bitchy is almost the same but I don't even try anymore.

„I was reading about car engines,“ I mumbled and finished another lit up window. I was learning on writing, geometrical shapes and later on linework flowers – but I wanted to try something more akin to painting so I chose a picture burned into my brain – even though I never found it as beautiful as my classmates. Dark castle on a navy blue background, small windows illuminating the surrounding air. With impressionistic approach it was possible, but still – it wasn't easy.

„Are you interested in cars?“

„I prefer motorcycles, but my friends' dad has a car and invited me to work on it later in the summer.“ I yawned and started to work on another window.

„That's nice of him, do your friends also enjoy motorcycles?“

„Never talked about it.“

„And what do they like?“ My exhaustion almost made me say the truth, that they like potions, charms and such – but I caught myself before I could say anything.

„They like chemistry, physics and anything that would help them prank people.“

„Oh! They must be fun to be around!“

„We wouldn't be friends if they weren't,“ I rolled my eyes and stabbed my finger. „Fuck.“

„Did you meet at school?“

„Yes.“

„Come on, work with us,“ Rose threw a cookie at me.

„What the fuck do you want to know?“ I moaned in despair and put it in my mouth, chewing as loudly as possible.

„Names, age... you know, so we know them more.“

„You sound like a perv,“ I mumbled around the chocolate chip cookie. So I told them – about Fred, George and Hermione. After that, I was forced to promise I would bring them when they are visiting. Fuuuuuuck.

***

Hermione lived in a house smaller than ours – which makes sense. It was still a nice building and their garden was charmingly wild – the grass was overgrown, flowerbeds filled not only with flowers but also weeds. We don't have too much grass in front of our house – our driveway needs to be big because we don't have a garage. 

I ringed the bell and waited with dad close behind me. „Be nice to Grangers, after all, they offered their house to you, little hellion.“

„I'm an angel in human form,“ I sassed back sharply. He pinched my arm, bared to the summer sun.

„And I'm a frail flower, brat.“

„What you raised...“ Now I needed to avoid a weak slap across the head – thankfully Hermione opened the door at that moment and I could duck behind her. „Hello Hermione.“

„Hello Henry, Mr Bundy. You are here sooner than expected.“

„I'd rather be everywhere too soon rather than too late,“ he smiled down at her and gave me my magical backpack I acquired in Diagon Alley. I wanted to carry it myself, it's enchanted to be feather-light even though I have too many books in it (undetectable extension charm is the weirdest but the most useful spell I ever heard of – even though I hate how physics are meaningless in the world of magic) but dad took it from beneath my hands.

„It's a nice philosophy.“

„It's survival thing – I missed the birth of my oldest son and my wife told me she would gut me if I ever missed anything important again – and Henry's first sleepover with his g-“

I kicked him in the shin when he tried to call her my girlfriend – Hermione tried to stifle her laugh. „Are your parents at home?“

„No, they are working, but there is a lunch prepared for us.“

„Don't let him cook,“ dad told her.

„You mean don't let him go near a burner?“

„You know very well what I mean young man.“

„It was only one time – and when I was only seven so I think you are overprotective of that fucking kitchen.“

„You almost burned the whole house down.“

„Go fuck yourself in the fucking car old man.“ I narrowed my eyes, he did the same for a moment before he grinned widely and reached behind Hermione. It was easy for him to grab me, she could never hide me fully - I'm maybe thinner but also a head taller. That and she moved to a side when he pulled me into a hug.

„Don't do anything lethal or harmful and don't make me grandchildren.“

„My body is unable to make fertile sperm right now, idiot.“ I pinched his side as hard as I could but he only messed up my hair.

„Be a good boy, Harry.“

„Go die in a car accident, Gregor.“

„Love you too.“

„Go fuck yourself.“

Then he left after he squeezed the air out of me and messed up my already messed up hair for the last time. I quickly smoothed my fringe so my scar is not showing before I turned around to face Hermione. „What are we going to do today?“ I picked up my bag and threw it on my back.

„Dad offered to drive us to town tomorrow, but today we can do something around here. But now - let's put that bag away.“

„Have you finished your homework?“

„Yeah, why?“

„Twins sent their stupider than owl-stupid fucking owl with questions about some things yesterday.“

„Most people finish summer homework the last week of the summer holiday.“

„Really?“

„Have you never talked with your classmates?“

„Not really, they thought they were too old for us to be friends.“

She was silent for a moment. „I always forget you were preparing for university.“

„People usually do.“

„Did you drop any just to go to Hogwarts?“

„Scholarship in Oxford, but after Hogwarts, I can always get it again. Hermione, why is your room pink?“ I stopped in the doorframe, looking at the surprisingly girly room – plushies on the bed, pictures in flowery frames and a shelf filled with fucking Disney movie CDs.

„I like pink?“ she rolled her eyes. „Are you aware that I am a girl?“

„It's somewhere in my knowledge but it was never something I really thought about,“ I said ironically. „You just never struck me as a girly girl – I expected only the bookcase bursting in seams.“

„So your room is not blue or green?“ she jumped up on her bed with a grin.

„Used to be white but there is a stain when I threw my tea on it and few burn-marks too... and last summer I started to draw on it with a marker in a sleepy daze...“ She started to laugh. „Insomnia is no joke!“

„I bet it's your fault you have it.“

„Yes, but still – not funny.“ She threw a pillow at me – and I might be taller and far more experienced in pillow-fights, but she won and I gained a lot more bruises (fucking hard plastic eyes on plushies).

After a great visit to the museum where I embarrassed the workers there (stupid people with lines learned but no understanding), we spent three days absorbing vitamin D with books on our laps. The sun gave Hermione some freckles, so she finally wasn't the only one in our group without them.

Because Grangers were not willing to let twins sleep on the floor like I was, they visited only for one day – we went to the playground because they've never been to one. 

„What do you do with these?“ Fred kicked one swing.

„You sit on them and swing,“ I caught it and started to show him with a face that told him exactly what I think.

„You couldn't scream stupid louder,“ he rolled his eyes with a smile and sat on the other one. We watched in silence – and second-hand embarrassment – Hermione and George who were trying to hit the basketball hoop. They were missing spectacularly.

Then a stone hit me in the back of my head – I turned around, looking into small blue eyes of a pink beachball. I meant pig in a wig. No, I meant a fat boy! „What the fuck you fucking dimwit?“ I picked it up and threw it. My athleticism showed when it didn't hit him.

„Dad always tells me that your kind needs to get burned at stake,“ he made a disgusting face at us – I think it was a smile? Fred hit him with a stone in the middle of his forehead.

„Good shot,“ I high-fived him enthusiastically and came closer to get a better shot at him.

„Mummy!“ I managed to hit his wobbly ass, a good big target.

„Hey! That's not fair! Don't move!“ I yelled and before he knew what was happening, we were sniping him while running after him with evil laughter on our lips. We haven't stopped even when a horse-like woman shrieked like a banshee. We did stop when she was close enough to understand her yelling.

„He started it,“ I shrugged and hid a prepared stone in my pocket.

„My Dudders would never do such a nasty thing!“ she screeched, almost as loudly as Mrs Weasley.

„Couldn't do worse than the one who named him,“ Fred mumbled silently.

„Fucking right,“ I snickered.“

„Where are your parents!“

„Few kilometres away.“

„Depends on how deep you wanna go,“ I talked over Freds more reasonable answer.

We were staring at each other – she seems... familiar. „Say sorry and we can forget it,“ she lost our staring contest.

„Sorry, piggy.“

„Sorry, Duddy.“ I'm getting hang of this talking at the same moment – I'm excited for the day we will finish each other's sentences, it will fuck people up even more than if only twins do it. Hermione joining would make it even more fun! Four-way sentences sound like a proper mind-fuck.

She wasn't happy with us but after a long look, she went away.

 

[What Henry didn't know, was that he just met his aunt and cousin – and Petunia recognised him thanks to his wind-swept hair showing his iconic scar and how similar he was to her sister. Of course, she couldn't say she was a hundred percent sure... but she was pretty sure.

And she was never happier she gave him up for adoption – that hellion seemed like a job and a half (and potentially a murder charge for Vernon).]

 

***

The first week in August meant it was my turn to host a week-long sleepover. Dad prepared a big family tent for us in the grassy garden, near my patch of flowers. I believe some motherfucker tried to stomp them to death but after I managed to make a small rune-based barrier that gives intruders electrical shocks, my potion ingredients had no problem with flourishing. I suspected Elizabeth so I put all her underwear on our fence so everybody could see it.

We told Hermione's parents she would sleep in the same room as my sisters but we lied like professionals. Hermione would give us that look if we made her sleep in the same room as my sisters. Doesn't want to be left out.

Twins arrived with a loud pop near the tent, their father holding their shoulders when they lost their footing. Usually pale twins looked slightly green, which made me snicker and wish to learn it sooner than legal. „Hi,“ I grinned and tried to trip their weak legs when Arthur let go of them. I succeeded on both fronts! „When are you going to pick them up, Mr Weasley?“

„Around three p.m., so they don't throw up on the way back.“ I could see a devious smirk on his wrinkly face – I should have known that twins couldn't inherit their coolness from their fucking mother. „Nice to see you, Henry. I'm excited for your help with the car.“

„I read all the books about cars my brother has so I think I could technically help you with anything.“

„That's great news – but I would also like it if you helped me with some muggle inventions. Like what is the use for a rubber duck?“

„You bathe with it. It's a toy.“  I deadpanned.

„That's it?“

„Yeah. It's fucking stupid – like children who like to play with it. Boats are far better.“

„Thanks for the help – see you all on Friday!“

„Bye, dad!“

„Bye!“ I gave him a small wave with the hand not buried inside my pocket. „So, are you hungry? Mother made us some sandwiches for a snack.“

„Sure!“

„When Hermione arrives?“

„In an hour or so – why? Do you want to surprise her?“ Then we prepared a quick meal that would turn her boring brown hair into a neon green masterpiece. We ate our ham sandwiches in few bites and kept hers on a plate. She would for sure enjoy it, but Fridrich got to it when we were welcoming her. I must admit, it was even better than pranking Hermione.

„You are a bunch of assholes,“ she giggled when we told her how my brother fucked up our plans. „Now I will never trust you with handling my food!“

„And drinks?“

„That too!“

„Does that mean we can have all the food?“

„And you will stop stealing my tea?“

„Henry, I thought you enjoyed my compliments!“ she batted her eyelashes too quickly to be natural.

„I will poison it next time, bitch.“

„You said that last time and it was even better. You need to buy me that tea for Chrismas. I loved it.“

„I will poison it.“

That day we ended up in my room where they were looking through my experiments. Hermione hated my mess and kicked some of it under my bed so she could get to my try on Veritaserum. I wanted to make it less potent, make it much more useful in a normal setting. And most importantly, I wanted to make it work on muggles. Dad would find it useful if he could make people confess and tell only the truth. The biggest downside of the typical Veritaserum is that it needs magic to work, so I was experimenting with better sources of energy. It worked on me so I did make a truth potion but it still didn't work on Marie. It needs more work.

Another one was a joined project with twins – they managed to make a potion that would turn people into canaries but I wanted to turn people into toads. I should finish it in three days, toad skin usually takes two days to dissolve perfectly in substances containing alkaline liquids.

„Did you work on anything?“ I aked them from my hardly used bed.

„On the canary candy and we finished our fever-inducing chocolate!“

„I started to learn runes from your notes and managed to make a barricade on my trunk. It's harder than you make it sound.“

„He does that with everything, Hermione.“

„We would know-“

„-after all, you made him tutor us before the exams.“ I feel a killing intent in the air...

„And did it pay off?“ she raised her eyebrows. Both of them turned red, but not in anger.

„Yeah...“

„Mum even though we cheated...“

„So how good? I got all Outstandings, bar DADA and Potions. I think my potion was too bright to pass as outstanding.“

„We got E's and O's in everything – almost fifty-fifty. How about you, Henry?“

„Outstanding from top to bottom of that list. I believe Flitwick tried to fuck me up on the practical task but it was easy to fuck HIM up. McGonagall and Snape even gave me Above Outstanding.“

„Teacher's pet.“

„Just Above Charming!“ I felt that their laugh was too sarcastic – at least for my ears (and even though they would swear I was pouting, I will never acknowledge that).

We discussed runes for two hours after they calmed down. Twins were good with the practical part, Hermione knew them by heart and I was as always the only one who knew how to blow up the room. Doesn't sound important out of context but my mother ended that conversation when we started to heatedly argue if Egyptian or Viking runes are better for bulldozing a building. She stuffed us with ice cream and we entered a sugar coma.

„Henry? Will you help me with my chemistry homework?“ Ludvik burst into my room with a notebook and textbook under the arm. I raised my head from the floor with sleepy eyes. When did I fall asleep? Probably before everyone decided that I am a good pillow. I will never eat chocolate ice cream again...

„What is it?“

„Creating nomenclature of salts.“

„That's not primary school curriculum,“ Hermione opened one eye, looking at me from my shoulder. The moment I fully wake up, I will kill them.

„I attend summer classes in chemistry and physics – our school gives this opportunity to everyone!“ His voice got squeakier and louder, which woke up Fred. George would sleep through the apocalypse. „Henry went there too.“

„Gimme, and tell me what you don't understand.“

„I always mess up the counting. Especially in the complex ones.“ How I ended up teaching twins and Hermione I have no idea but I managed to only yell five times when they began to try and make the names themselves. One would think Hermione would know at least the basic things but her school only lightly touched the theory with a ten meters long stick.

„Now, sulphuric acid is H2SO4 so you have two helium, four oxygen molecules times two because of the oxidation number which means you count with the number EIGHT, and eight minus two is what?“

„Six.“

„Which means?“

„The oxidation number of sulphur is six.“

„Because in the formula is only one molecule, right?“

„Yes. Goodness gracious, I will kill you all. So, if you use this logic, how would you write the formula for sodium sulfate which is derived from that acid?“

„You get rid of the H, you add sodium,“ Ludvik mumbled, writing slowly, waiting for a snort or growl or pinch. „Does Na have the same oxidation number as H?“

„Where is it in the periodic table?“

Fred found it before anyone could answer. „In the first column. So it has only one oxidation number possible, right? So it should be Na2SO4!“

„Hey! It's my homework, I should say the result!“

„But I'm quicker, shorty.“

„I'm not short! I'm the tallest in my class!“

„In comparison to me-“

„You are four years-“

„KIDS! DINNER!“

„You inherited your voice from your mother,“ Hermione put a pinkie in her ear to clear it out.

„If you say so,“ I shrugged and threw a fist into the air above my shoulder which George was trying to use as a cane. It landed into his chest.

„You motherfucker,“ he wheezed and backed up. My mother selected that moment to look into my room.

„Wait, I always wanted to say this.“ I stopped her and looked at the ginger. „Language young man!“

***

George always believed that the worst roommate would be Ron with his loud snoring and tendency to fart in his sleep. And he saw Henry sleep before, so he knew the skinny boy was as silent as death. It was a common sight to see him sleep on their couch, long limbs stretched and chin slightly raised into the air, glasses askew.

But Henry who can't fall asleep and doesn't understand that other people need to is a different thing and he starts to get the picture why Ravenclaws hate the smart boy. Hermione was obviously used to this and was capable of tuning him out. Fred tried his hardest to keep a conversation and his brother was partially sleeping on his bony shoulder.

All this was the main reason why nobody in the tent wanted to go out and eat breakfast with the rest of the Bundys. Henry saved them some sandwiches but before twins woke up, he ate all the bacon and Hermione breathed in the rest of the eggs. „Your bad you can't wake up in a normal hour,“ she stuck her tongue out.

„You are not the one who tried to keep up with insomniac there.“

„I never said you need to!“ Henry tried to act innocent for zero point one seconds and failed like usually.

„Is anything on our timetable?“ Fred asked after finishing his third sandwich.

„Not really. Do you want to do something particular?“

„Is here a playground like where Hermione lives? I want to perfect my throwing skills.“

„Sure, go to the front, I will steal a ball from Fridrich.“ With that, the genius left his friends who went lazily to the meeting place. Hermione was hanging on twins' elbows and was telling them about how torturous were first two nights with Henry in her room when they stopped with eyes on top of their heads. Henry's older sister was sunning herself, hidden from the public eye by a hedge fence. Behind the house was a big shadow in that time of morning, so her tanning place was not that surprising – but her teenage body in a tiny bikini was. Waves of blond hair partially shading her pretty face only added to the redness in twins' faces.

„Oh! You're finally up!“ she smiled at them kindly. „Did Henry annoy you the whole night? You know you could sleep elsewhere?“ She leaned forward, looking at the ginger brothers with a small blush.

‚How can my lame brother find such pretty boys and become their friend? They are so out of his league,‘ she thought with jealousy. She might love her younger brother, but only to a point.

„Marie, what-“

„You look like a fucking whore. And you three, pull up your jaws! It's my sister you perverts!“ At that moment, Henry looked like his mother even though they weren't blood-related. They had the same disappointed and at the same time angry look, hands-on-hips (in one instance visible ones and in the other not at all) and posture straight as a ruler.

„Don't call your sister whore, Henry. But I do agree – we told you not to wear that swim-wear, it's too small for you.“

„I didn't want tan lines!“

„Liar.“ The chair Marie was lounging on snaped in more places than natural. The thought: ‚You just want to steal my friends,‘ never came out of his lips, because Henry would never admit that.

***

„They are really pretty. Like, all of them.“

„Are trying to tell us something, Hermione?“ George grinned and wiggled his eyebrow. The bushy-haired girl only rolled her eyes.

„No. But look at his mum and siblings – blue-eyed, blond and conventionally very pretty. Henry looks nothing like them.“

„He looks like his father.“

„Not fully...“

„Mum always tells us we look like her brothers and her dad, so maybe he just got his looks from his grandparents.“

„But from where would he get the green in his eyes? Have you never noticed how bright it gets when he uses magic or get excited?“

„You can't miss that.“ Fred snorted.

„I read into it and green is the weakest gene from all eye-colours. Also his magic – I believe that Henry himself told me about how there is a fifty percent chance that if there is one muggle-born child in the family with four children, there will be at least another one. And he's the only wizard in his family of five. He wouldn't say that if he knew it wasn't a fact.“

„But how can we know for sure?“

„I believe there must be some potion that can tell us his heritage, like a blood test or something. But I doubt we could lie well enough that he wouldn't know about our plan and we can't ask professor Snape.“

„We could just ask him,“ Fred intervened into their scheming with a bored look on his freckly face. „I doubt he doesn't know or that he cares. As long as he calls them family, they are family. Blood or not.“

They knew where to find Henry – he was working on one of his potions, so they had time to strategize how to take it lightly (even though Fred told his two friends he doubted Henry would be happy with their approach). When the genius emerged from his room in the oversized labcoat and colourful hands stained with potion ingredients they dragged him into their tent and tried to gently ask him if he was adopted. The keyword is trying and after a lot of stuttering Fred lived to his reputation as a snake in lions skin and aked harshly: „Are you blood-related to your parents and siblings?“

„No, I was adopted when I was a little over one year old.“ Well, that was easier then either of them expected. Even Fred thought he would be surprised that they thought of that, but no. „Both of my parents were wizards, so I inherited magic from them.“

„Do you know their names? Maybe we know some family?“

„James and Lily Potter.“ Again, he had a perfect poker-face, a stark contrast to them.

„Are you fucking-“

„-kidding me?“

„How can you say it so-“

„-casually?!“

„You act like it changes everything.“

„You are-“ that one was George.

„-mothefucking-“ continued Fred.

„Harry Potter!“ Hermione shrieked and Henry only rolled his eyes.

„You're fucking weird.“

Chapter 9: Shopping adventure

Chapter Text

I was happy to escape my home and even happier to finally see the car of my (recent) dreams. I really want to see how turning invisible works – Arthur owled me books about invisible cloaks but none of it seems believable because my cloak is as strong as a new one and I can't find a single rune on the silvery fabric. And I looked with my best magnifying glass.

The Burow was a structurally unsound building leaning to one side – which one depended on the direction of the wind currents. Only magic could hold it up and I don't doubt that runes and magical barriers run through the whole building. I wonder, who made this architectural abomination? Arthur, his or Molly's family?

Before I could even put my bag down, I was whisked into a game of Quidditch. Ginevra Weasley almost killed me with her perfect aim for my poor little head – I know why I hate sports. The only thing that made me at least slightly happy was the fact that Hermione was even worse. At least I am a decent flyer.

„You could make a good Seeker,“ Ginevra grinned at me – so similar to twins I didn't have the tendency to sneer right after her insult. „You are quite tall, but you still manage to be quick and agile.“

„I don't do sports.“

„I want to be part of the team, do you think I could do it?“ she ignored my biting words and hopped over my leg that tried to trip her. Obviously used to twins. Fucking hell. „Charlie says I'm good, but he's my brother – of course, he thinks so!“

„Wasn't he a captain?“

„Yes, why?“

„So he knows, you stupid bitch. He saw many horrible players.“

„If you say so, dick-head.“

„No, I am an asshole,“ I corrected the younger girl and managed to finally trip her. Although the nice feeling of sadistic happiness was cut short by her laughter. „Fuck you. I hoped you would cry.“

„Says the person who sleeps in Ron's room.“

I swear I almost fainted in rage.

***

Kill or not to kill? That is the question...

„Move aside.“

„Wh-“

„I said move aside or George shall lose a brother.“

„I wondered when you'd show up,“ Fred mumbled and raised his duvet.

„I'm not sleeping with you. You would use me as a personal teddy bear – AGAIN.“

„Not my fault you are surprisingly cuddly. Where else would you like to sleep? I know your last sleep-session was two days back if you stuck to your usual schedule so you won't live through the night without falling asleep. And you yourself said to move aside.“

„Aside – meaning onto the ground or into the other bed.“ Even though I was bitching, I already kicked off slippers that were lent to me. He expected that and never stopped holding the dull red blanket up until I fell next to him, my back facing him. „If I wake up before you and something is laying on me, I will bite.“

„I know. I still have scabs.“

The next day I tasted blood first thing in the morning – Fred only hissed into my ear, which is an improvement on his side. After a big breakfast Mrs Weasly forced us into de-gnoming her garden - shouldn't she be capable enough to do that herself? Twins were throwing them over the fence, but I could see them coming back. Hermione was as loud as I for once and asked for some type of insecticide – Molly gave us one but it worked as much as calming exercises that my kindergarten teacher tried to teach me. So I pulled out my switchblade and started to cut their throats. Twins were indifferent, Hermione looked away but managed to acknowledge that this method is the only we have on our hands. Ginevra was the only one who helped me, the trio of softies only brought our victims.

It's not like they actually bled blood filled with haemoglobin – it was green, surely packed with chlorophyll. I took samples for further research – blood and tissue. Thankfully I always have a vial or ten in my pockets. 

***

I felt like I died at that moment, there was ash all over me and most importantly in my nose and on my glasses. I couldn't see shit so I took them down and attempted to clean them. Meanwhile, I squinted into the dark room. I could see movement so I went there. „Hi. Where am I?“

„You came here through the chimney?“

„Only through a fireplace.“ I tried to look through my glasses but I saw only a grey smudge. The man moved his arm and finally, I could see. „Thanks. I wanted to go to Diagon Alley, but ash went straight up my nose and fucked it up.“

„Obviously, young man. You are in Knockturn Alley.“

„Yes!“ My excitement made me cackle with a truly excited laugh that my siblings call ‚mad scientist laugh‘. I have no idea why I think its decently normal – twins laugh similarly if they are happy about an experiment. „What do you sell?“ I turned my head as far as it would go in both directions but keeping him in the corner of my sight. Dangerous might be interesting but I like myself enough to pay at least some attention to adults with wands.

„Anything, really. Cursed items, trinkets and such.“

„Do you sell books?“

„Aren't you little young for that?“ he rested his elbow on the counter and put his big head on tattooed knuckles. That looks cool, but the scar across his eye is even more badass. I only raised my eyebrow and waited. After a staring contest, he finally gave up and showed me a relatively small bookshelf that was stuffed to the brim and beyond. „What are you interested in?“

„Mostly potions and medical stuff, but I don't shy away from any knowledge available.“

„Aspiring medic in one of the darkest shops in the wizarding world? You have balls of steel.“

„I believe that as long as you have balls, they are material-wise similar to mine. And any knowledge is good, only how you use it determines if it's good or evil – that and I never got why wizards categorise spells into groups, I can find at least two first-year spells that can kill a human, and I'm not even talking about potions. Wingardium Leviosa is the most obvious one, as long as you can pick up something heavy with your magic you can kill people. Then there is Petrificus Totalus – curse someone in the water and they are fucked with capital F. And the things you can make with the potion kit for first years! I managed to create a strong acid that melted through my cauldron and damaged my carpet. Again. I should really find something more sturdy, shouldn't I?“

„I think I have a book for you – I knew a young man with similar ideals and he adored it. It's more about the magic theory from before there was dark and light magic. And here is a book with pretty old but powerful healing spells and potions.“

That surprised me, but who am I to say no to books so willingly given? „How much?“

„Twenty galleons for each.“ Four times pricier than normal first-hand coursebook, although I guess these are not as widely available as those. Anyhow, I paid with a smile.

„I might not be capable of getting here before school, is there a way to get books any other way? Like through post?“

„You can send me a letter, to Caractactus Burke, the shop's called Borgin and Burkes. And you are?“

„Henry Bundy. No shop name.“ The black-haired male rolled his eyes.

„How old are you, young man?“

„Twelve. Is there a policy that you can't sell minors stuff through the post? Dad can handle the correspondence if that's the problem.“

„No, just curious. Put your hood up before entering the street, go left and try to get out as soon as possible. You are far too young to take care of yourself.“

„If you say so.“ I took it with a grain of salt (he never saw me with dangerous objects that go boom) but did as he asked me to do and got out of Knockturn Alley in few minutes. Hermione tried to kill me in a hug when she ran into me, eyes dangerously wet.

„Where have you been!“ she screeched.

„I ended up in some shop in Knockturn – the owner was nice enough not to gut me and even showed me where to go.“ The sarcasm was laid as thick as snow around Hogwarts in winter but she managed to miss that part and started to go hysterical about my lack of self-preservation and dumb luck. The only dumb thing about me is my only female friend.

„Where did you end, little raven?“ George hugged me around my shoulders so I stepped on his foot and went straight.

„Are we going to the bookshop first?“

„Yes, we have all our potion ingredients from our personal shopping through the year and you are the only one who needs new robes. So books are the only thing we need to buy.“

„Don't even talk to me about clothes shopping, my mother PROMISED me that she will torture me with that next week.“

„Your jeans were too short in April, what did you expect? And now your t-shirts show your lower back when you move your arms.“

„Thank you, perv.“

„I have eyes, there is nothing wrong with that Henry!“

„Why is there a line?“

„Gilderoy Lockhart is signing his books - Mum is waiting in it.“

„Isn't he an author of our new coursebooks for DADA?“

„Yes. He writes stories that are quite popular,“ Fred joined our conversation from Gorge's side. „If we try hard enough, we might manage to get through the crowd. I looked into the second-hand shop and there were non of his books.“

„Fucking hell. Why are we buying storybooks for our classes?“ I moaned and kicked a female (that pushed me) into her shin, ducking under some elbows, forcing my way into the shop.

„I think he might be our new teacher,“ Hermione mused aloud.

„No fucking way –“ Then I saw the blond asshole and got disgusted goosebumps. „He looks like a fucking imbecile. I bet our new teacher is just a dumb fangirl.“

„What do you bet?“

„Anything.“ At first glance, nobody would ever guess Hermione is a gambler, but her competitive spirit knows no bounds.

„Would you wear a skirt for a week if you lose? If you win, you can colour my hair.“

„Sure – but I won't. Get prepared for bright piss yellow hair.“

„Wanna bet too?“ Hermione asked twins who were quick to say no. Pussies.

We found the books and bought a few more, that were a hundred times more interesting than the ones with covers so bright I gained another diopter. His teeth should be classified as a lethal weapon – and I don't care that that comment made the shop assistant snicker. I was serious about that.

Then they dragged me into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions where we met Susan and Hannah, who managed to distract me so I was much more cooperative with the seamstress.

„I had a problem with my potions homework – have you ever heard of Wiggentree bark?“

„Did you know you can cast magic in Diagon Alley? Your trace can't pick up your own magic from the magic around you so it kind of turns off!“

„Do you think the quality of Mandrake depends on the type of soil?“

After that, they went with us to the Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. I tried the tea flavour (which was too sweet but still better than any other type – bar chocolate). I bought a scoop for George and one for Fred because they were the only ones who had no money left after buying some books. They were reluctant to take my offer but I bullied them into it. Fred picked chocolate and his brother slowly licked lemon-flavour. Hermione enjoyed her hazelnut and vanilla, Hannah chose one of the weird ones – butter popcorn and her roommate chose peanut and strawberry mix.

Then the Hufflepuffs left us and Hermione dragged us into the pets shop – she wanted to buy an owl. I looked around without intention to buy anything – I only looked at the reptiles, amused by the snakes that talked over each other, arguing who is the best looking. They heard from some older snake that being part of a human family means living in luxury so when I looked at them, they started to try to make me buy them. I kept quiet – snakes always freak out when I talk to them.

After checking out the cold-blooded animals I walked back and got invested in a big raven who looked at me with intelligent eyes – he even said hi, which impressed me. Dad wanted me to buy an owl but everyone knows how I feel about those stupid birds. However, if even something as intelligent as a raven can carry post...

„He's so cute!“ Hermione spooked not only the black bird when she turned on her girly-screech-voice. She was cooing over a ginger cat with a face only a mother could love.

„He has been here for quite some time,“ the saleswoman told her with a fake kind smile. „Nobody ever found an interest in him.“

„He's so adorably grumpy looking – he reminds me of you, Henry!“

„Go fuck yourself too.“ Surprisingly, when I tried to pet it, the cat let me. If he scratched me, it wouldn't shock me – animals often find me untrustworthy. „He looks smart. Is he a magical cat?“

„He's part Kneazle. Good guess, young man.“

„His fur is kind of a big clue. I want that raven,“ I pointed behind me with my thumb – the smart bird guessed what is happening and lent on my head in the next few seconds.

After buying all the things our new pets needed, we walked out of there – Hermione was holding Harry in her arms with a big happy smile and I was seething behind her, with a raven making a nest out of my hair. Not only is her HAIR going to turn piss-yellow – her whole being is going to turn into a rainbow!

***

I hate clothes shopping – as a kid I was always persuaded by a bribe (and some sweet words, which I shall never acknowledge), now I get jackshit and mum drags me by the elbow through racks filled with clothing. Nobody was willing to go with us, as they think that our mother is the second craziest person in our household. Especially when we start to argue. I'm not sure where I got my tendency to scream fuck, but my body language when I get really angry comes from the woman that is capable of making me wear fluffy cat onesie on her birthday. So maybe she really is crazy (but mainly kind of scary).

The important part of shopping for me was figuring out the sizes – as long as mother wasn't picking out neon T-shirts I let her go ham. 

„Good afternoon, Mr Bundy.“

„Professor Snape,“ I turned around on my heel and acted like he hadn't surprised me. Sneaky bastard. „Were you too forced into buying clothing even though our ancestors were good in nude?“ He rolled his eyes which was the effect I wanted.

„How did your summer go? Any interesting reading you picked up?“

„I did – some more obscure potion and healing books that I found while shopping for my school supplies. It helped me with some of my experiments, like making magical cures for more basic ailments suitable for muggle bodies. Before that, I was stuck with a version of veritaserum that I wanted to make – but this helped me with understanding how to mix magic into potions. It was meant for magical exhaustion, however, it was quite easy to use in other ways. How about you? Anything interesting?“

„I work on a long-time project with wolfsbane potion and developed a cure for partial blindness. Have you ever thought of getting mastery in potions?“

„I plan to – together with transfiguration, herbology, maybe runes and after that, I plan to get my medical licence. I found out that you need to finish at least five years and twins finish school at the same time so I plan to get the masteries before that and after school get the licence.“

„I can help you with the potion mastery preparation, even though I doubt you need it, Mr Bundy. I will tell you one thing – to get mastery in anything, you need to create something new and impressive. I think you should have no problem with that, am I correct?“ I could only grin widely. „And just an addition – as long as you finished your first year, you can take any test in ministry after registering for one of the terms.“

„Good to know. Thanks.“

„Have a nice rest of the holiday, Mr Bundy. I'm thrilled to read your homework – I hope it has many gory details.“

„Can't make it without them. Bye!“ I'm not part of the gossip circle in Hogwarts but I know Hufflepuffs (who are the middle of the fucking circle) that would kill to know that Snape not only shops in muggle shops but apparently has even worse taste than Elizabeth (I never guessed a grown man would wear colourful underwear with PUNS on it).

***

Too many lost card games later we finally got to the carriages dragged by the cool horses – Thestrals, as I found out in my study of books about magical creatures. I don't remember seeing someone die, but from the information I gathered - my biological mother died in front of me. So maybe that's what counts?

„Are you excited about this year?“

„Why, Hermione?“

„Just because – last year was exciting, so I wonder what happens this time. Maybe a dragon will attack the Griffindor tower?“

„I could get you another troll and lock you up with – ouch!“

„Asshole.“

„Thank you, but I'm not THAT hungry. Which reminds me of my house... do you think they would let me get resorted?“

„Flitwick would be happier than Snape – but I'm worried that Minnie would cry.“

„Why?“

„Because you would end up in Slytherin?“

„She would like me green or red – as long as my brain stays as is. She even wrote me a letter in the summer, asking for another book about morbid transformations.“

„First – since when do you land books to McGonagal? Second – where did you get that book?“

„I don't land her books – we EXCHANGE them. She has a brilliant taste in literature – I gained an invitation to her office to discuss books with her and the school matron. And I got it in a second-hand bookstore.“

„I can't believe you. Why did you never tell us about it?“

„Never came to my mind, to be honest.“ I jumped out of the carriage and petted the bony horse.

„Are you into old ladies? Because - fist Minnie, then those ladies in embroidery club and now Pomfrey?“

„Truly a ladies man.“

„I can't think if its worse this or the fact that they go crazy for him.“

„Thank you, Hermione, at least someone cares about the creepier side. And no, I am NOT into old people.“

„Sure Old Grump, we believe you,“ started George.

„-but the moment we find a big frilly bra in your trunk when we are trying to steal potion ingredients from you-“

„-we will hang it in the Great Hall and Minnie shall kill you with jealousy.“ I should have smothered them in their sleep. Even Hermione, who is usually trying to look mature and above our childish arguing is smirking behind her wild brown curls.

„He doesn't have only the attention of old ladies. Have you ever seen Snape?“ Twins burst out laughing and those who heard event this last part collapsed too – we ruined her! „And even Quirell had a soft spot for him!“

I need to find new friends.

Chapter 10: Lockhart. Just... Lockhart.

Chapter Text

I wore my lab coat after the first and only night I'm willing to sleep in my dorms – the door was locked so no firsties wander around the first night in the castle. The Gray Lady told me that after I tried to get out more violently.

I wore it under my robes because I wanted to try out new runes sewn into it that made it possible to stuff almost everything in them (and everything after shrinking charm). Books, cauldron, notebooks, pens, vials, and many more. The only thing I wasn't sure about was the longevity of the spell – after all these runes are meant for sturdier or magically woven fabrics/materials.

 The Great Hall was empty, not even teachers were willing to wake up at such an ungodly hour in the morning. School elves thankfully had no problem with morning birds like myself so soon after sitting at the Gryffindor table I had my steaming cup of Earl Grey and stack of pancakes covered in chocolate syrup. McGonagall was the first who entered the Hall and sat opposite me. „Good morning, Henry. Do you have your homework with you?“

Without even stopping eating I summoned it from my deeeeeep pocket and gave the disgusting coffee drinker my summer work. „Do I have a lesson today with you?“

„Yes, the first period. The second will be with professor Lockhart.“ That reminds me that Hermione owes me a skirt. „Here, I took one Ravenclaw timetable for you in the teachers' lounge.“ At least I have no need to meet Flitwick. Every win counts.

„Why do you people love history as the first thing in the morning? That's... inhuman.“ Wednesdays are officially the worst – at least for this year.

„Says the student with hundred percent score,“ her eyebrow rose high above her smart glasses. „Which reminds me – congratulation. If you were nicer, you would get a prefect badge in your fifth year.“

„Yeah, I can totally see fucking Flitwick pinning it to my chest.“ I rolled my eyes. „He would try to kill me with it or at least hurt me. I have a simple question – who forgot to give Dumbles his meds?“

„...what?“

„He hired a man who writes FICTION. Not even a good one, he writes about magic like someone who knows only basics! I bet my siblings could write about it better only after me talking about it here and there. Man can't just wrestle werewolf – maybe Hagrid, but I doubt he's fully human. And I'm not even salty about the skirt – I would wear it for the rest of my life If we had a decent teacher and not some fucking fucker!“

She looked confused. „I agree that professor Lockhart is not the best, but he was the only teacher available this year.“

„Fucking hell...“

„And just to satiate my curiosity... skirt?“

„I made a bet with Hermione – I believed that the blond idiot couldn't possibly be a teacher material.“

„He might surprise you?“

„Are you asking me?“ I growled because her small smile was almost cruel.

„So, Henry, when do you have free time for two ladies?“

„Say time, I have no plans. I bet Snape can manage to move my detentions around so it works,“ I waved my hand. Not that I got any. Yet.

„Try to persuade him to join us if there is no wiggle-room. Severus has good taste in books. Little darker than most, which I appreciate.“

„Obviously, you like MY taste.“

***

Ravens and Hufflepuffs had DADA before lunch on Mondays, Griffins and Slytherins after. Herbology before that was easy and relaxing, Sprout was talking about Mandrakes and how they are used in potions, how to take care of them and the gardener if he's knocked out or worse – near dead (you can't take care of dead person). How I wished I was that stupid gardener because that would mean missing the Dreaded class.

I sat alone in the back, hidden behind the bright-haired duo of Hufflepuffs that were chatting with me about the horrible books. At least they were better than everyone in Ravenclaw – how can they call themselves house of smart and cunning if they can't see whats almost literally written in front of them?

After everyone was seated Lockart cleared his throat and picked up a random book from the unfortunate soul that ended in the front (worse – they looked happy to be near him). „Me,“ he pointed at his winking portrait on it and mirrored the action with a blinding smile. „Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award — but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!” That cracked me up, but I was the only person in the class. I can believe that I feel my brain leaving through my ears! But my laugh made him smile more, so I tried to hide behind Susan and Hannah. “I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books — well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in —” He handed out the papers and returned to his desk (I looked down, not willing to suffer again when he put the test on my desk slowly). „You have thirty minutes — start — now!”

  1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite colour?
  2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?
  3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement

to date?

I turned it around in horror. And then looked at the second paper, containing the last question:

  1. When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal

gift be?

I was too proud to do badly on a test, even though it was this degrading. Unfortunately, my mind can't be erased so I knew ALL THE ANSWERS. So I did it – muttering: „Fuck, fuck me, fuck my brains out through my ear so I can forget this fucking moment and all those horrible fucking books that should be fucking burned or dissolved in highly potent acid and then the sludge should be burned, ashes thrown into the fucking Atlantic and everyone should get the fucking Oblivate – it would me mercy to anyone with even a smidge of a fucking brain to forget those fucking books-“ I heard giggles from Hannah and Susan but I ignored them and continued for the whole test and then put my forehead on my folded arms on the desk and bemoaned my future in soft hisses.

After half an hour later, the motherfucker collected his torture and went through them right in front of the class. „Tut, tut — hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully — I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples — though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky!” He winked in my general direction. I want to puke. Retching sounds left my throat because I answered everything. To be precise, I could have cited his own words how well I filled it out. „... but Mr Bundy knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions – good boy!“ More retching, but he ignored me. „In fact – full marks! That is you, am I right?“ He came to my desk, smiling like a shark that smelled blood. I nodded. „Excellent! Quite excellent! Twenty points to Ravenclaw!“ He tried to ruffle my hair but I stopped him by blocking it with his own book. He took it in stride. „Well – to business –“

He pulled out a decently sized cage covered by a baby blue cover thrown over it. „Now — be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”

The only not-calm person in the class was me – because I was red with rage that he tried to touch me.

„I must ask you not to scream. It might provoke them.” Is he aware he's not part of a circus? Then he pulled the cover off. „Yes,” he said dramatically. “Freshly caught Cornish pixies.”

I could only stare, but some snickered – nobody could mistake that for a sound of terror. „These are not dangerous creatures, are they, professor?“

„Of course they are! Devilish tricky little blighters they can be! Let’s see what you make of them!” And he opened the cage. The pixies shot in every direction, bringing havoc into the usually calm class of Hufflepufs and Ravenclaws. Two of them took Neville by the ears and lifted him up, some escaped through the window, started tearing books and parchment, threw sharp quills like darts, threw bags and books out of the broken window – thankfully I had everything in my lab coat and the only thing I had out was my pen which I used as a sword when one of those little fuckers tried to steal it from me. After endangering the creature's sight with the inky tip, they left me alone – before a new one tried to tug me up to the sealing.

„Come on now — round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies,” Lockhart shouted when I got free after killing the creature with my ‚accidental‘ magic. Nobody noticed. „Peskipiksi Pesternomi!” It did nothing – as I expected from someone as incompetent as that idiot. The creatures even stole his wand and got rid of it – the teacher got under his desk with a scared expression. I would love if he jumped out of the window, following his useless wand.

When the bell rang, everyone rushed out of the class – I was unfortunate enough that I was the last who tried to leave. I hate getting pushed in crowds so it seemed better to wait for a second or two. „Henry, nip the rest of them into their cage!“ He rushed past me and shut the door with too much strength. I could only stare with mouth wide open before I turned around and – „Diffindo! Diffindo! Diffindo!“ I hissed angrily, cutting those creatures in half. Sometimes more than one were hit which made it quicker. I left, steaming in my anger and a bloody scene behind me.

***

„The boy is dangerous to those around him!“ Flitwick argued with Dumbledore who was smiling at him kidly.

„Henry obviously knew no spell that would get them back into the cage-“

„He made a new spell even before he finished his first week in this school – he could figure it out! You should not defend a murderer!“

„They were just pixies, Filius,“ Minerva rolled her eyes.

„Have you heard the rumours that Lockhart thinks Henry is in love with him?“ Sprout asked, almost killing Snape who was drinking his tea. She tried to help him by patting his back but only got glared at. Ungrateful bastard. „Young Henry laughed as the only one at his joke, got a perfect score and then went red when he praised him in front of the class!“

„I bet he was just angry,“ Minerva quirked her eyebrow. „And he gives perfect homework and test to Bins, so I doubt he would treat Lockhart differently.“

„We were talking about his cruelty and in my opinion psychopathy – how did it turn into another round of gossiping and praising?“ Nobody ever understood why the usually cheery professor turned into little Severus when Bundy-Potter was mentioned.

„He's a little cruel – I bet even he would say that and never hid his love for gore - it's no surprise to me. But as long as he keeps it to himself and some pest I see no problem. He even has a new pet raven and takes care of it – that should make it obvious he's not as bad as you believe he is,“ stepped Severus into the discussion sharply, throwing mental daggers at Filius. „That said, I want to make a bet that Lockhart will lose his delusion before Halloween.“

„I say before the end of the week!“ Pomona threw her own idea out with a wide smile.

„I think he will last longer. Maybe until Christmas,“ said Minerva, trusting Gilderoy's stupidity.

„I say until Valentine,“ grinned Dumbledore. Some people went pale with that though – ugh. Nobody can be that stupid... right?

***

The next class was even worse than the first – yes, not even I can believe it. He had not brought creatures to the class after the debacle with pixies, but he started to talk about his books, read parts of it, and the worst part – he wanted to reenact them. And my luck had it that he picked me to do it.

The fact that I was wearing a skirt made it even worse because it moved from the original idea that I would play some simple Transylvian villager who he ‚cured‘ from the Babbling Curse, he turned it into one of his many paragraphs where he saved pretty ladies from danger.

I kicked him in the nuts when he tried to touch me and stormed off.

Twins tried to lighten up my mood by pranking the man with colour-changing shampoos but the human peacock managed to look proud with a pastel pink hair on his disgusting mug. After that, we organised a small birthday party for Hermione, not even three weeks after the beginning of my personal torture. I gave her a book about more creative runes from Borgin and Burkes (not that I would tell her). Twins made for her some prank-biscuits so if she ever needed, she would have the possibility. Mum sent us a small cake that we split into four pieces and ate it, then we laid in our room, high on sugar but with stomachs too full to move.

They were not the only one who tried to put me into the better mood – Minerva (call me by my name in private or with friends around) and Poppy (who reminded me of my mother) invited me at least once a week for a cup of good tea and conversations about subjects filled with morbidity, dark humour and gore. Poppy also talked about her medical practise and that if I wanted, I could help after Quidditch plays, to practise my healing skills (of course I said yes!).

At the beginning of October, I was pushed into inviting Snape to our weekly meeting – I was instructed to use puppy-eyes and try at least twice before giving up – and to my shock, it worked. On the first try. He was happy to talk about books, but most times we planned how to get rid of Lockhart without anyone suspecting us. For some reason, Minerva was trying to calm us down even though she hated him as much as any reasonable person.

The next time I was pushed into acting, I was meant to play a vampire so I bit Lockhart hard enough to draw blood. But he only smiled and tried to feed me rabbit food. Despite that, this time he gave me detention. Minerva and Snape tried to take it from him, they said I'm a little difficult to deal with one on one and they would willingly take that burden on their shoulders – he resisted and put his foot down. I had a detention with him in the end and wanted to cry.

„Hello Henry,“ he smiled and winked at me when I arrived. „I wanted to talk with you about your behaviour. Are you aware that a celebrity like you should act differently?“ A what? „Celebrities are like the aristocracy of the modern age - not arrogant, of course not, but should kind of above things. And kind, very kind and understanding. Not violent and rude – and language, that should be like buttery poetry flowing from your lips!“

„What the fuck are you talking about?“

„About your fame, of course! I have no idea why you keep it secret, it is an honour to be the Boy-Who-Lived!“ I could only stare at him. What the fuck. „I can teach you the ropes because I myself am quite popular – you might have noticed!“ He put his disgusting paw on my shoulder, smiling painfully wide. I could hear my blood and magic roaring in anger. „You might need some cosmetic changes, but you might make a pretty little hero-“ he pushed my bangs back so my forehead was showing and then flew back. I was seething.

„Don't touch me, I'm not sssome toy to fondle!“ I started to hiss out, like any time I get really angry.

„See? These things have to change – uncontrolled magic in your age is fully unacceptable! I can you everything I know –“ he tried to touch me again, but this time I was faster and ran out of his class and hid in a secret passage few turns from his office, breathing heavily through my palm, trying to be silent. After a while, I calmed down but could still hear a silent voice hissing: „Rip...tear...kill...want to kill...“

Chapter 11: The hissing raven

Notes:

At least I procrastinate productively.

Chapter Text

„I want to wear couples costume with Lockhart. I will be Jason and he a promiscuous teenager. Or I could be Hannibal and he would stay a rude asshole. So many possibilities but not enough alibi for my planned murder. It would be poetic to kill on the day of Halloween, wouldn't it?“ I was sleepily dreaming about killing the worst teacher in the world, Harry purring on my chest while we were lounging on a couch in our room. A prank potion meant for the whole school was quietly brewing only a few metres from me and filling the air with calming potion stench – bitter but with sweet undertones of honey.

He purred harder when I scratched between his ears but hissed angrily when Hermione almost went through the door. „Henry! I found it!“ She screeched happily and if Harry and myself were a little slower, we would end up as a Harry/Harry mush. „I found what the stone is!“

For a second I hadn't had a clue what she was talking about but then I understood. „Really?“

„Yes – I was reading up on different famous people in the wizarding world and found information about Nicolas Flamel and his wife. They created a Philosopher's stone in the 14th century, which is an ingredient for an immortality potion and CAN CHANGE METALS INTO GOLD PERMANENTLY!“

„The fuck?“ I could only stare. Immortality? „I have THAT in my suitcase? Wait – why was it in the school? Behind such weak barricades?! What motherfucker thought of that!“ I wasn't ever angry – not really. My shock was immeasurable. „Should we give it back?“

„I thought I would need to make you do that.“

„I'm not that cruel – obviously they depend on that immortality and if I play my cards right, they could teach me something about potions.“

„Alchemy, theoretically.“ I waved my hand because who cares (I should write Burkes if he has any books about it tho). „Wanna go to the feast?“

„Sure, I'm quite hungry,“ I took Harry with me and dumped him on Hermione's shoulders.

„Hey, you asshole!“ She laughed and cuddled the ginger beast that hissed and bit her a little before settling down into her embrace. „I hope you weren't telling him again how you would like to murder Lockhart – I believe he is starting to embrace the idea that making blood flow is an acceptable thing to do thanks to that. He bit Levander enough to make her hand bloody!“

„Good boy.“

„Henry!“ She hit my shoulder. „I know she's annoying, but there is no need to be so cruel!“

„You pranked her just a week ago, moron.“

„She told me I look like a road-kill bunny in the morning – and twins encouraged me to prank her to feel better.“

„Did it help?“

„Yes-“

„Kill... want to kill... so hungry... prey...“

„Can you hear that?“ I furrowed my brows because unlike other times it sounded too echoey to be in my head.

„What?“

„Hissing.“ I recognized the snakey hiss – I learned how to after I found out I could understand and speak to snakes (and couldn't at first recognise it from English). „Like leaking gas or a snake.“ I detoured from our route to the Great Hall and went up the stairs into the second-floor. Harry jumped out of her embrace and ran in front of us, stopping in front of a water puddle.

„What is this?“ Hermione muttered and looked around – before doing a scared sound when she looked up. I looked up too to see. There was the body of Mrs Norris hanging by her tail from a torch, stiff in her dead state – so it's more than a few minutes from the moment she died. I wonder who lost their cool – and how it was probably first-year because even I managed to control myself. „The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.“

„Hermione, I believe we should get away from here.“ She nodded and grabbed my hand, so I dragged her because of my longer legs behind be when we ran towards the Great Hall – crashing into a flock of black robes, who just finished their diner. „Fuck.“

Before Dumbledore arrived at the scene, Filch tried to strangle me and Hermione, altering between us when one got away from him. We hid behind Minerva who stood behind the old wizard with a stone mask on her face - I'm so used to her smiling it shocked me for a millisecond. „We did nothing,“ I told her.

„Bad thing you have a reputation,“ she muttered but smiled slightly at us. „Why did try to run away from here?“

„We knew it would look bad if we were the one's who found her – you know, I have a reputation of a sadistic motherfucker.“

„Argus, Miss Granger, Mr Bundy, come with me, please,“ said the bearded man, before Lockhart jumped into it with: „My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free—”

„Thank you, Gilderoy,” said Dumbledore. So we went into the fucker's office where there was more than one blond looking at us with stupid white smiles that disgusted me – more so if they stared at me. Dumbledore stared at the dead cat for too long so I managed to get a good look myself.

„Why is her fur not moving?“ I noticed.

„It was definitely a curse that killed her — probably the Transmogrifian Torture — I’ve seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn’t there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her. . . .”

„There is no change in her shape which torture with such a name would leave,“ I jumped into his rambling with narrowed eyes. „Also there is no wound or sign of fight – and her stiffness shows she was killed at least twelve hours back. Which is my and Hermione's alibi that nobody obviously needed – we were in Gryffindor tower since yesterday until classes.“

„Mr Bundy, there is only a small error in your deduction - she's alive.“

„What?“ said everyone.

„She has been Petrified – but I don't know how.“

„Ask HIM!“ Filch screamed and pointed at me. „He killed those pixies – he obviously took a liking to killing poor innocent creatures!“

„If I liked killing innocent, I would never kill that stinky cat, you stupid cretin,“ I hissed at him angrily but Severus stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

„Calm down, Henry. You're only making it worse.“

„Argus, no second year could have done this,” said Dumbledore firmly. „It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced —”

„Flitwick said he could do anything – that he's worse than He-Who-“

„Argus!“ This time it was Minerva who looked angry.

„Petrified? How do you know it was dark magic and not a potion or some magical artefact? Does Magical World have Medusas?“ The last one was rhetorical though but it was ironically the first answer I got.

„No, we don't have Medusas. There are some creatures that can petrify their prey but none can get through the school's protection. I know not about any potions that could do this – there are some that make all the muscles stiff but they always kill the drinker. So I think a spell is the most probable.“ I nodded, appreciating his decently informative answer.

„Henry, where were you during the Halloween feast?“ Minerva asked.

„I was scheming with Harry in one of the vacant classrooms when Hermione found me to drag me into the Great Hall for a supper.“ Not one pair of eyes bulged out at the Harry part. „It's Hermione's cat. She named him after my nickname that dad and mom call me – for some reason she thinks we are alike.“

„Cute and grumpy,“ Hermione grinned at me.

„Shut the fuck up.“

„And why did you go to the second floor, if you were going to the Great Hall?“

„We were descending from the seventh,“ I lied without thinking. „Then Harry ran towards the girls' bathroom while mewing so we went after him, interested what he found. Last time it was a dead mouse and Hermione hates when he eats meat.“ Partial truth, she only hated when I tried to feed him Ronald's living rat. „So, will it be possible to heal her using Mandrake?“

„Yes, that's my plan, Mr Bundy. Five points to Ravenclaw,“ headmaster smiled with a weird twinkle in his bright blue eyes. Who doesn't know that?

„I want him to be punished!“

„He's innocent, Argus – we will find who did it, no worry. Now go, you deserve some sleep after this – into your own bed, Mr Bundy.“

„No chance.“

„Severus, Minerva, would you be so kind and got these two to their respective rooms?“

„Yes – come, Miss Granger. I'm sure twins are interested in what happened.“ She put her hand on Hermione's shoulder and slightly manoeuvred her to the Griffindor Tower. Snape grabbed my upper arm because I almost managed to get away.

„At least this time – try to cooperate, Henry. You don't want more angry attention. And sleeping in different dorms is very much not allowed. Let alone sleeping with other students.“

„It's not like we have sex with each other, you know? And we slept in the same room and sometimes in the same bed more than enough to know it's safe.“

„Hm?“

„We spent three weeks in total together in the summer. And when we were at my house, we were crammed in a tent. They treat me like a shared teddy bear slash pillow since. Especially in the Weasly house where I was forced to sleep in the same room as Ronald and if I dragged the mattress to the twins or Percy's room the bitch would get it back. So I slept with Fred, who is the easiest to get off me.“

„So his justification why his hand looks so chewed up was true?“

„Yes, he indeed calls me his bite-alarm-clock.“

After I got into the dorm and settled on my bed (not planning to stay, I was waiting for Snape to get lost) and started to do my homework, silently scratching transfiguration theory about how to properly make a live object inanimate without killing it in the process. I was in fact so nice that everyone must have thought I was planning something (I have no other explanation besides that they hate my guts) because they attacked me before I managed to say fuck.

I was carried out, bound and gagged and left in the common room in that uncomfortable situation. Some older students saw it but only laughed at me – my wand was on my bed and my roommates got their hands on spells that can be dispelled only physically so no wandless magic for me. Fucking hell! I laid like that long after everyone got to their bed, red with anger and frustration. I was restless, my magic was screaming and blood boiling, my inner voice hissing how good it would feel to rip those motherfuckers apart.

„Did Wrackspurts go through your ears really fast?“ I opened my eyes – there was a small girl with big grey eyes squatting in front of me. I tried to scream at her through the magical gag – is it invisible? I tried to show her that I'm bound and thankfully she understood. „Uh,“ she huffed after her fingers met the rope that was rubbing my arms raw. After some manoeuvring she finally found the knot and loosened it enough for me to get out – I took the gag out myself before getting into a hissing temper tantrum. „My Nargles steal my things – I never heard that they would bound someone.“

„I don't know what Nargles are – my roommates did that to me. What are Nargles?“

„They are kleptomaniac spirits that always steal my homework, clothes but most often shoes,“ she pulled back her robe to show her bare feet. The fact that they are not blue shows she knows warming charms. „And today they stole all my pillows and blankets so I couldn't get comfortable.“

„What is your name?“ I recognise bullying when I see one – I lived with it most of my life.

„Luna Lovegood.“

„Henry Bundy – you went here to read, right?“

„Yes, would you like to join me?“

The next morning there were two Ravenclaws sitting with Griffins, one sleepily smiling and the other with rope-burns (that just wouldn't heal) under his sleeves.

***

The first Quidditch match of the season was between Slytherin and Griffindor. I sat next to Poppy, Luna on my other side whispering with Hermione about how people on brooms remind her of baby Thestrals who are learning to fly.

I was watching the game so I could react how I was asked – save falling players, try to see even the smallest hit to later ask the player how much it hurt. It was kind of fun to have my attention stretched in so many directions. The Slytherins were fun to watch with their new brooms and dirty tactics. One of my classmates, Malfoy, was their new seeker and obviously a hundred times better than the Griffindor one. I have no idea how he sees anything through the rain, I'm dry and under an umbrella spell but I still can't see very well.

„The Buldger seems a little restless today, the beaters on both teams have obvious problems to keep them away-“ Lee screamed through the cacophony of sounds into a microphone. I really don't like that part of Quidditch, his comments suck most of the time if not all the time. Then I saw it before I heard him scream: „Weasly was hit!“

I couldn't see which one it was but the other caught him, slowly helping him to get down. Hooch stopped the game and stopped the Buldger in its way before it managed to hit a Slytherins seeker. She got away with an unbroken nose.

I ran down the stairs, closely followed by Poppy, Luna, Hermione and some teachers. Thankfully I got to him first, because I could see Lockhart approaching Fred with his stupid smile that always makes me seeth in anger. „ If there isss any lasssting damage, thisss isss the lassst time you are playing – do you underssstand?!“ I hissed at him before scanning him for all injuries. Poppy came when I got the results – broken forearm, bruised chest he was protecting with the now-injured limb, two cracked ribs and strained muscles when he held himself on the broom through the acceleration of a mad Buldger.

„Come on mommy, it's an only broken arm,“ he wheezed with a strained smile. I hit his cheek lightly enough not to move his face but hard enough for it to sting. People were shocked by that. I set his bones into their proper place with my pure magic and then started the healing process, this time with my wand. Poppy was watching this, not intruding my process (because she knew I can do it quicker than her). It was straining for someone with average or smaller magic core but I got only slightly dizzy for a minute or two, because of the shock of losing half of my magic.

„Stand back, young Henry, I can take care of your friend-“ he touched my shoulder and I couldn't move because it would nullify my spells so I only gritted my teeth and tried to ignore him.

„Herny is good at mending bones, let him work,“ Poppy stepped into it and got him and his wand away.

I was glad I was dragged out by my friends (and that Poppy followed) – I can only wonder what that idiot would do to him.

***

I heard about the duelling club from Snape who told me during one of my numerous detentions given by Flitwick. It was started because there was a student petrified the night after the first Quidditch match. Everyone says it was done by Slytherin's monster – which I doubt, I would bet that somebody found an interesting book with ‚dark‘ spells and curses sometime during the summer holidays – and now they are trying them out.

Even though these were my thoughts, I asked: „Can Slytherin's monster duel?“

„I doubt so,“ he smirked, „but it might prove to be useful in the future.“

„Who teaches it?“

„I'm one of the teachers.“

„Oh, then the second is Flitwick - he's master dueler, isn't he? Horrible person, but he might show us at least something useful – it would be the first time he might teach me something. I still can't find anything about duelling, only the basic traditions and types of duels.“ He continued smirking and gave me only shrug.

„Dueling is a practical task so there are almost no books – maybe in some ancient family's library. But I doubt that. Most learn it from their parents or take additional courses the school offers for seventh years.“

So, I was interested in the club and probably would go there even if nobody else would – however, I was almost carried there by over-joyed twins who looked too happy to go to a DUELING CLASS. Hermione only rolled her eyes at them. Luna was waiting for us and caught my arm in a hug – I tried to get her off but she's stronger than she looks.

„I wonder who'll be teaching us?“ said Hermione, her face too happy to not know. Did someone tell her too?

„I wonder,“ singed George.

„I wonder,“ huffed Fred, throwing his arm around my shoulders. They had me pinned when Gilderoy Lockhard walked onto the stage, his robes deep plum and with gloomy Snape close behind him. If I was free, I would curse him (for once Snape, not the blond ponce).

„I hate you all.“

„Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works. Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape! He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry — you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!” I hope this was a ploy to get me to see how he hurts him because if Severus lets him go out of here without bruises I promise I shall tell everyone about his love for comic books (and underwear with pictures from them). At least he looked furious that Lockhart is belittling his capabilities.

 The started with bows to the other – one did it like a peacock and the other shortly with his head. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. Just like in books. „As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd. „On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”

Well, hope dies last.

„One — two — three —” Both attacked, but Snape's Expelliarmus was too quick for Lochart – the scarlet light hit the blond square in the chest and blasted him off his feet. He smashed into the wall with force, making me smile widely. My happiness leaked away when he showed signs of life. At least his ‚perfet‘ hair was ruined by the flight and he looked dazed. „Well, there you have it! That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I’ve lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see . . .” Snape looked murderous, but boy can only hope. „Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me —”

They paired people off, not caring if they wanted to get split from their friend or not. „Mr Weasley, you can partner up with Miss Burkham there-“ Snape pointed at a Hufflepuff girl and waited until George went there. „Mr Weasley, go to Mr Malfoy. Miss Granger, Lovegood, you pair up together. Henry, I think I have a great partner for you,“ he turned around with his robes billowing and I followed him.

„A second-year?“ I recognised Marcus Flint, a Quidditch captain that was easily twice my size and physical strength. He reminded me of Fridrich. „I expected you would come here with one of those twins.“

„I believe that Henry is a bigger challenge – or danger, to be precise.“

„I'm harmless.“

„Yeah, and you don't bite. Do your best, you two, but try not to maim or kill.“

„No promises.“

„Go fuck yourself, rules are for pussies!“

„Good luck.“

I turned to the bigger boy, looking him up and down to assess his speed and flexibility. I saw him fly just a few days back so I know he's more of a heavy hitter that quick. „Can we start?“

„Sure, shortie.“ He grinned toothily and walked away just to turn around and wait. I never took my eyes off him and walked back while watching him. We nodded at each other before whipping our wands. He started to count: „One – two – t – “ we fired at the same time but I managed to move aside from the cutting curse. He got a full blast from my overpowered stinging hex that would cause big bruises on his sternum. I fired a binding curse but he blocked it and rapidly fired two spells I didn't know and one Expelliarmus. I moved into the trajectory of the only one I knew and blocked it, fell on my front to escape laughing hex and managed to bind his legs with ropes. He stumbled and before he could charm them away I cut his cheek. Then we blocked and moved away from too many spells to count before I got hit in my shoulder. It threw my balance off and I fell onto the floor. But that wasn't the end so I threw blasting and bone-breaking curses at him (and the blasting was aimed for his feet). He moved aside but the small explosion threw him off so I managed to hit him again although he still almost cut my arm off with a nasty hex that thankfully only went through my bicep. I gritted my teeth in a snarl and did a quick spell that closed the injury with a burning feeling. It would leave a scar – not that I mind.

„I said disarm only!“ Lockhart yelled at us.

„I heard nothing about disarming only.“ For once I was telling the truth. I ignored what he was yelling on the other side of the hall even before the duel.

„I allowed them to duel fully – they are above the usual level so I personally invited them to see how they would do.“ Snape, my hero!

„O-ok.“ I was worried he would take it as an invitation to give me another detention with him to ‚coach‘ me how to be a celebrity and get touchy-feely with me. I looked around – almost everyone stopped with their duelling and were looking at us. Well, twins were fencing with their wands in their right hands and stolen ones' in left.  

„I think the next thing I should teach you is how to block unfriendly spells. Let's have a volunteer pair - Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you-”

„A bad idea, Professor Lockhart, Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.“ If he was that cool, I think Neville would be still friends with me (and not such a pussy – who cries when somebody is worried about their health?). „How about Flint and Bundy? They both know how to do it so they are the best to show others.“

„Excellent idea!” said Lockhart, gesturing us into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room. „Now, Henry,” said Lockhart. „When-“

„I know how to block a spell. Protego is quite basic.“

„Ok, so - Three — two — one — go!” he shouted.

Flint and I again threw our spells before the GO sound. I cut his thigh but he used an unknown spell, again. I should start to read into fighting spells more. „Serpensortia!“ A long black snake shot out of the end of his wand.

„How am I supposed to block a snake?“ I muttered, unheard through the screaming. It was angry, hissing at anyone who walked near it.

„Henry don't-!“ Snape yelled when I went near it.

„Calm down, you were summoned by a total fool. There is no need to hiss at those loud idiots,“ I calmed it down and squatted next to it, allowing my arm as a climbing branch.

„Thank you for telling me, speaker,“ it hissed, calmer. It slithered on me, going around my shoulders.

„That was dirty, Marcus. However, I think I won this one because I ‚blocked‘ it better than you,“ I smiled at the shocked teen. „What?“ Everyone was staring.

Chapter 12: Christmas Sweater

Chapter Text

I was used to bullying before I started to attend Hogwarts, although nothing could compare to masses of teenagers with deadly weapons in their pockets. In my opinion, wands are a superior version of a gun (which I was forbidden to touch, even if it contained plastic balls or paintball-ammunition).

I thought that speaking to animals would be a gift more so than a curse – however, I was wrong (because people are as stupid as always). I wasn't the only thing thrown out of my dorms – this time my trunk flew with me down the staircase and someone managed to pursue the fucking statue that told riddles that I was forbidden from entering even the common room. I told no one, of course, and hidden all my stuff in our Room. I could do nothing to Luna's bullies so they became crueller, bolder. I wanted to rip their throats out and study their bodies for the good of science.

Galileo was not once, but twice shot with a nasty spell while flying outside – I heald him and managed to persuade him to spend most of his time with my family – Marie spoiled him like any other animal so he wouldn't be neglected.

He wasn't the only one who was shot with spells on sight – I couldn't go through a crowded corridor without limping away from it. One asshole burned part of my hair and another cut part of my robes off (I protected them better with runes after that fucking ‚accident‘). Thankfully, most people only left bruises, which was fine. If Hermione walked in those groups of students with me, they would lay low (maybe they saw her as innocent). If Luna tried to talk my ear off about one of her creatures, they would go soft on her (she might be called Loony but she is still a first-year). Twins would get full blows, even though their retaliation was worse than the attack (why do so many people have fucking smooth brains?).

Most often I would find myself alone – twins and Luna were in different school-years and Hermione shared a bare minimum of classes with me. Susan and Hannah tried to sometimes shield me but they were ignored – they wanted to tell Sprout but I knew nobody would take it seriously. Teachers never believed I could be bullied, quite the opposite. Most thought I was the one who bullied other children (even though they were a lot older than me). It's not my fault Fridrich had an unfortunate tendency to beat up anyone who tried to hurt me.

‚Hungry, so hungry,‘ a hissing voice led me to the second floor again, when I heard the now incredibly familiar name of a burning curse. I ducked but got hit anyways – they expected my natural reaction, so this is not their first time. Thankfully most of my things are resistant to fire damage (being pyromaniac doesn't mean I like to buy new stuff to replace the burned ones) so it only burned as hot water would if one spilt a tea on himself (I know that from experience). I scrambled to my legs and started to run.

„Don't run, you slimy snake!“

„Fuck you! Fuck you!“ A cutting spell hit the back of my shoulder. „Fuck! Fuck!“ Most of my clothing is reinforced because of THIS so it didn't hurt me as much as it should – but few centimetres up and my head would not be as tightly screwed on as it is supposed to. I tried to get away through small hidden pathways but they managed to keep up with me. I wasn't expecting a familiar face to save me – I was mostly expecting he would cooperate with those cock-suckers behind me. Thankfully Marcus' wand wasn't pointed at me when he fired some unknown spell at them.

„Find someone your own size,“ he frowned his unibrow threateningly at them, muscular arms folded over his chest. Without a hint of shame, I hid behind him. After they ran away in fear of the big boy, he told me: „You shouldn't walk around alone.“

„Like it changes anything – they are still assholes who would attack me, just add my friends into the mix.“ I got from behind him, straightening my rumpled layers.

„They were Ravenclaws and one Hufflepuff – why does your own house attack you?“

„They attacked me even before – and I hated them since the first week in Hogwarts. Thanks for the help!“ He caught my wrist when I tried to walk away.

„You look horrible.“

„Thank you, you too,“ I deadpanned and tried to pry his hands off my bony joint. „Where are you dragging me?“

„You need to tell a teacher-“

„No teacher ever helped me with bullying.“ He stopped and looked at me. This was the first time I saw a badge on his robes. Fucking prefect...

„What?“

„I was bullied ever since I started to visit a school – kids like to do that to smart people, for some reason. And neither of us knows those idiots, so what can we even do?“

„Snape could at least help you with the fact you obviously aren't sleeping.“

„I will today – I never sleep two days in a row. And yesterday was my awake-night.“

„That's – well – and where do you sleep?“

„Abandoned classroom. My dorms are unsafe and even Griffins are cross with me because of the snake thing. Which is your fault, technically speaking.“

„Everyone is stupid - aren't you mudblood?“ Ok, ignore that part about ‚it's your fault‘. I'm not salty – not at all.

„Adopted, but raised by muggles. Shouldn't you hate me for that, as a true Slytherin?“ I raised a sarcastic eyebrow and he grinned. Nice to see another person who enjoys my great humour.

„You are too talented to be mudblood, Bundy. They treat you like a snake so you can find peace in the snake den, don't you think?“

„Why are you so nice?“

„Even if you are not the one who petrifies people, you are still the heir – that is enough to warrant association with you.“

„If you're tricking me, I will release twins on your ass.“

„Deal.“

And that's how I befriended Slytherins – not all of them, but more people than in any other house. I used their delightful sofa and sometimes stole beds from those who prefered company while falling asleep. They used me as a book that held all the knowledge they needed – and didn't even mind when I called them stupid for not knowing basic facts. Severus walked on me and ten 7th years making homework and could only stare because they were so stupid I was forced to dictate why non-verbal casting is so difficult.

„What-“

„The fuck?“ I tried to help while munching on a bar of chocolate which was a payment for help with runes homework. Hufflepuffs never give me things when I help.

„It's after the curfew – why are you here?“

„I'm helping with their homework. McGonagall says that this week she can't come, but Poppy is still free – so, will you join us?“

„Bundy, we told you you can't just break the rules.“

„So no sleeping in Corvus's bed? He promised me he would-“ Corvus' girlfriend put her hand on my mouth, red as freshly spilt blood.

„You are supposed to sleep in your OWN BED!“

„...Nah, I prefer this,“ I said after biting her hand. „You can give me detention!“ I knew he couldn't hit me with a spell, so I was confident in my capability of hiding from him if necessary. But Marcus came to my rescue, whispered something to the potions teacher and my ass was saved.

„I won't be as nice next time, Henry. Detention, tomorrow at seven.“

„You should tell him,“ Marcus told me after he stole a piece of my chocolate.

„Go fuck yourself.“

***

Henry was the first in our group who knew Luna was bullied, however after showing a big portion of the school that he can speak to snakes he had too many of his own problems to really take care of the smaller raven. That and his friendship with her made it even worse for her – first it was the fact that they hated his guts just because of himself but now – now they found a reason beyond ‚He's annoying.’. Now they thought he was the Slytherin's heir, that he was the one attacking muggle-born students. Nobody thought about the fact his family was very much NOT magical.

So George and myself decided to help her – although I wanted to help HIM first. She needed it more. Henry can take care of himself.

George tried to be at her side as often as he could and I watched her and people around her on the Map. Most of her bullies were girls from Hermione's and Henry's year – but her roommates stole from her most often. We pranked them mercilessly but it didn't help at all. To avoid detention or expulsion, we stopped ourselves from going into the Ravenclaw tower with wands blazing. But what would be another way to help her?

Then it hit me – we could go to some authority. Not Flitwick, because god knows how he would act around a friend of Henry's in that situation. He never adored us but after we started to hang out with the young raven he started to ignore us. Maybe Snape or McGonagall? They would probably try to help, but to what extent would they succeed? They could only make it worse because they don't know those Ravens that well. What is another possibility?

…Percy. He dates a Ravenclaw prefect and he himself always hated bullying. He was happy to help and not only because of that – we were really nice to him that summer (after seeing Henry's siblings and how they always tried to make him angry, we felt bad for Percy who was in the raven's place and we were those annoying siblings - it's worse when you see it from a different point of view) which means only a nice plead was enough for him to help us. We gave him names and his girlfriend managed to get those fucking girls into so many problems they wished Henry was the one to deal with their behaviour (death is often less cruel).

At least it looked like it before their head of house stepped in and saved their asses from the worst punishments. I was truly starting to hate Flitwick as much as Henry does. He was almost as bad as Lockhart – the only plus he had was the lack of touchiness. I was increasingly getting worried (not that Henry said more than some angry growling about too many hair-ruffles and forced hugs). Any detention with the young raven was handled by Snape (not even McGonagall could handle him – she assigned him lines to write and ended up with a paper filled with ‘Go fuck yourself’ from the top to the bottom in Henry's unreadable chicken scratch), however, Lockhart would never give up detentions he gave Henry (because of stupid reasons, like not paying attention in his class even though he knew the correct answer to any question the writer had for him).

Well, it meant we were on square one and Henry finally convinced Luna to sleep in our room. He wasn't sleeping there as often as he used to – obviously, he found a better place for his back but he was secretive where it was. I know he wasn't sleeping in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor and I doubt Susan or Hannah would find him as cute as we do. There was the possibility of Slytherin because he started to talk with some older years recently – but why would they house him?

„Fred,“ George bumped into me before potions. „dad wrote that mum is making sweaters for everyone – bar Henry.“ My jaws started to hurt with the power of my teeth-grinding.

„He's the only one who willingly wears those things!“ I took the letter and skimmed it quickly. „Why is she such a bitch?“ I muttered under my breath. George laughed.

„Henry is rubbing off on you, brother of mine. We can give him ours?“

„It's not that - it's the thought, not the gift itself. He's our best friend – and nothing against them – but Hermione and Luna will get theirs and not him?“

„If you say it like that... we can make him one!“ His eyes shined with crazy excitement. I worry someone will end up pierced through by a knitting needle. „There is a spell for that, isn't it?“

A few hours later we found out that yes – there really is a spell but it works off of existing muscle memory and it just repeats the cycle. So you need to know how to knit on your own. And there were no books about knitting. We asked Hermione and she knew how to croche – we were clueless about the difference so we tried it. And found out that that specific spell needs two needles.

We managed to deconstruct the old spell and made a new one for crocheting – the final product was still ghastly but we made a piece of clothing! Through Hermione's parents, we bought white wool for most of the sweater (the colour choice was inspired by his beloved labcoat) and light brown for a bastardized silhouette of a potion bottle – we wanted to make it personalized and were cocky, thinking we could make something as complex as a shape of any kind. Luna had the easiest job of us all – she laughed at our failures and never praised our successes (is it part of being Ravenclaw?).

It was a joined gift from the three of us but we prepared small things on our own – but those we packaged, this one we wanted to give him personally and see how he looked in it (before he burned holes into it). I was picked as the one who would give it to him so I was the poor soul that stuttered through apologies why it's not perfect under his sharp gaze (he was obviously confused what I'm talking about but I know that now, not then). George and Hermione would probably be even worse.

What I liked was that I was the first to see his shocked and then quietly happy look when he squeezed the plush piece of clothing in his spidery hands and a rare blush came to his cheeks (rare in the sense that he was far from angry). „Thank you – there was no need to make me one if your mother is a bitch,“ he said with his usual monotone voice but the look was still on his face.

How can he be so cute?

Chapter 13: Calm before Storm

Chapter Text

Everyone thought there was something wrong with me when I fell asleep in the car on the way home and continued that activity throughout the whole night. Someone carried me to my bed and I woke up with the sun. I was just surprised I lived for so long – the last time I slept was four days before the end of school. I wanted to see how long I would last (that and I couldn't get to Slytherin dorms nor could I squeeze on the couch with Luna – she looks more like a starfish than a human when she sleeps).

I was reading a book about offensive and defensive charms when mum came into the kitchen. “Get off the counter, Harry. Do you want breakfast?”

“Yes,” I ignored her request but put my feet down so they dangled in the air. “If you remember correctly I was banned from using knives and anything that can make fire. It's a little difficult to make eggs with those restrictions.”

“With bacon?”

“Sure,” I shrugged and finished a chapter. Why are shields such a boring topic?

“Ms Teddy needs help with her TV. Again.”

“Did she turn it on and off?”

“Yes, even I can tell her that. She said you could come by today after lunch. She has chocolate chip cookies.”

“She uses bad chocolate,” I wrinkled my nose and sipped my tea. Thank gods for electric kettles, before my ban we had a kettle that you put on a burner and wait until it pierces through the ear-drums. It was THE reason why I almost ‚burned the house down‘. Pfff, it was just a minor little flame. „But sure, at least I get out of the house.“

„How was school?“

„Did you become illiterate and nobody reads you my letters?“ I raised my eyebrow.

„You talked mostly about classes and pranks your twins do – but nothing more than a name of your new friend. What is she like?“

„She's either batshit crazy or can see more than I can – but she's smart and the only reasonable Ravenclaw.“

„Why didn't you befriend her sooner?“ I can see she bit her tongue with a retort to my comment about sight. Everyone knows my eyes are sub par.

„She's a first-year. She recommended me books about magical creatures – the common volumes don't talk about more exciting types. Like vampires – Stoker must have known about magic because the similarity is kind of scary otherwise.“ She smiled while I talked. „But there are blood-banks for them so they don't really need to kill people. I wonder how their digestive system works – why can't they get nutrients from food? Is something wrong with their body chemistry so they need a liquid diet?“ I continued my rhetorical questions until I got my breakfast.

„And how about the teacher you were talking about before school? The writer?“ she asked after a slice of bacon silenced me up.

„Horrible, but what can I do,“ I omitted the truth without batting an eye. She and Dad could probably do something about his... Lockhartness, but I don't want to be called tattle-tale again. I tried THAT approach the first time someone beat me up and it brought me only problems. The best strategy I found was trying to ignore, run away.

A bunch of owls came pecking to our kitchen window – mum let them in and I was the poor person who was forced to work with those feather-brains. Two attempts at murder later there were four big packages, which contained a small mountain of fancily wrapped gifts – most of them were palm-sized or book-shaped and all of them carried the name of a Slytherin student.

“’ We hope you will enjoy your Yule, Slytherin heir.’

“Mom, don't-“ I tried to take it from her but she was better at dodging then I expected.

 “’ No worry about giving us gifts back, it is a tradition in Slytherin to give something small to someone with such a worthy ancestor.’ An ancestor? Slytherin heir? What else were you keeping from me, son?”

“I acquired a group of slaves and they call me heir of Slytherin.” Her look showed what she thought of my jokes, scarily similar to my resting bitch face. “People found out that I can talk to snakes – just like Salazar Slytherin, the co-founder of Hogwarts. So they call me heir of Slytherin.”

“So you made more than one new friend!” she smiled, taking one of my gifts and unwrapped it – there was a chocolate frog in it. “What is that?”

“Chocolate frog that acts like a real animal – it croaks, jumps and such. Not for long, and if it jumps once it looses most of the magic that animates it. There are also cards that some collect with famous people on them.” She opened it and I caught it when she shrieked.

“That’s weird.”

“Better than an oversweetened pumpkin juice. Or blood-pops.” I gave the subdued chocolate to her back and after a long moment, she bit its head off.

“It's good chocolate.“

„That's why they feed them to me as a payment for helping with their fucking studies,“ I shrugged and opened one of the books. ‚The deadliest poisons in the magical word‘ made me put down a book about fighting in an instant. I had a hope I would pick it up from my lap after breakfast but that naive thinking jumped off a motherfucking cliff.

„Shouldn't you wait for Christmas to open your gifts?“

„You opened one first, hypocrite.“

„Touché.“ And then she stole another package shaped like the box containing chocolate frogs.

I did most of my homework before lunch, stuffed myself full to the brim and went to Ms Teddy. She was an older woman that couldn't write a text message to save her life. I met her when I was nine and she asked dad if he could help her with her new fridge. He was capable of putting it into electricity and then turn it on – but it blew a fuse and Gregor Bundy is many things, but not a manually talented man. Mum is better but electricity is not her expertise either. Somehow I ended as the scapegoat and re-arranged all her appliances to make it work with her out-dated electrical circuit. Few months later they made me help her install her TV and make all stations easily available.

I became a handyman paid with cookies.

I knocked at her door and waited few minutes before she finally reached the door. „Hello, Henry.“

„Is it still broken?“ I ducked around her to her living room, almost tripping on one of her cats.

„Yes, your mum told me to turn it on and off but it was still grainy and the colour was disappearing all the time!“

I turned it on and off again because she is stupid enough to mess up even that – but like she said, it was still fucked. So I turned it off fully by pulling the cord out of the outlet, put it in and turned the TV on again. Nothing. I turned around, grinned at the waiting lady and hit the old box harshly. She shrieked but after some hitches, it started to work as well as such an antique could.

„That wasn't nice!“

„Well, it worked, didn't it?“

„I guess so – would do like cookies for your effort?“

„Sure,“ I shrugged, burrowed my hands in jean pockets and went into her kitchen that smelled like honey and good chocolate. I was delighted to taste better chocolate than usually.

***

Unlike last year I brought my gifts down and willingly opened them with the rest of my family (so many sleep hours are ruining me). Even though everyone still annoyed me I felt safer than in school halls.

It took me a long time to get through the gift hoard from my snake friends so I enslaved the blonds. Which meant I lost a big chunk of my chocolates and surprisingly a book about magical paintings and photographies. Sometimes I forget Elizabeth can read – her grades tell me otherwise.

I got a fluffy blanket for our room, clothes (because I was already outgrowing my closet) and books. Quite a normal haul for me. If one doesn't count the fact that those new clothes were picked by Marie so I ended up with flannel shirts (I didn't mind as they were comfortable and soft but bitched about it anyway).

„How did you know I picked them?“

„It's fucking obvious, you idiot – I found your ‚secret‘ box filled with pictures of a half-naked buff man, mostly in flannel shirts.“ The corner of her eye started to tick. And I haven't even started about the condoms!

„Where do you find the time to snoop in my things?“

„When you sleep, mostly,“ I said honestly and ducked from the trajectory of a thrown ball of wrapping paper. Our younger siblings were snickering together with Fridrich, our parents rolled their eyeballs so much it looked painful. „This time I was waiting for a potion to cool off enough for me to add honey.“

„Honey?“

„Fred and I were experimenting with sweetening potions so they are a – tastier and b – so they are easier to add to candy.“

„Did it work?“ Asked Ludvik.

„With some potions, it does – those who consist mostly of plant-based ingredients. I need to buy few packages of sugar for further experimentation before going to Hogwarts.“

Then I opened a gift from Luna. It was a wooden box with a letter taped to the lid.

‚We planned this with Hermione so if you unpackaged her gift first then this is the thing you can play it on (it should work with muggle ones too).‘ Very nice – I still have no idea what is she writing about. Only Luna.

After inspection, I figured out it was a CD-player that looked more like a tape recorder. I found Hermione's gift shortly after that (and made a mess because I looked for it without care) – it was a CD from a magical rock band Weird Sisters. I turned it on and turned the volume down so we continued making a mountain of colourful paper (but now, with background music). I got ten vials of gnome blood – good, I needed that for my experimental pesticide – and a little box filled with prank-candy from twins.

The last present for me was wrapped in colourful paper that was obviously magical. I had a feeling I knew who sent it to me – and after partially opening it I tried to hide it under my new blanket I threw over me in an effort to stay warmer. Elizabeth managed to steal it (she got quicker, the bitch) and ripped it open with a wide grin. I couldn't stand up as I was assaulted by Marie who sat on my lap.

„Thief!“

„Pot, meet kettle,“ Fridrich stuck his tongue on me (I used to steal toy-cars from him when we were children, to take them apart). They weren't in such an obviously good mood when a pleated skirt fell out of the package.

Fucking Lockhart. I know it was him – after all he was the only one who brought it up multiple times (mainly during my detentions with him). It could be Hermione who since then tried to make bets with me at least five times but she would choose pink or red – not green.

„What?“ came from their mouths.

„It must be a joke,“ I lied through my teeth, shrugging. Most of them bought it – however, mother and Marie looked suspicious. They were always the best in knowing if I were honest.

***

„Wanna try something?“ Fridrich and Marie grinned at me through the half-open door of my room. They had coats on which meant they wanted to drag me out.

„Define how much it would hurt.“

„Not at all,“ Fridrich grinned wider and for a second showed me a cigarette box hidden in his jacket. „Wanna go?“

I didn't want to, but I kind of did? It's weird not seeing them on a daily basis – not like I miss them – but I want to go out with them to smoke cigarettes, behind our parents back. „Sure. Is anybody going to join us?“ I left my lab coat on but pulled my winter robes out of my closet – they were the ‚moder cut‘ option that dad wanted me to get, so it looked like a normal coat (it started as a floor-length, so now it looks a lot more modern). Why have two or more muggle and magical winter garments when I can have one multipurpose?

„No, just us – I think Eli and Lud are too young for this,“ Fridrich grinned and went down the stairs. „Henrietta is going with us!“

„No bruises, young man!“ yelled mum back.

„No worry!“ Marie sang back in her best innocent voice, pulling on her heeled boots. „We'll bring him back in one piece!“ I tied my shoes just in time to be dragged by the back of my robes out of the house.

„Bye mum!“

„Bye!“

„Bye!“

We went out quickly so she doesn't pat us (read: me) down so she knows that someone (me) isn't carrying any contraband. Our journey ended in a close park where we climbed to the top of a jungle gym and Fridrich took out the small box.

“Where did you get it?”

“Bobby let us try and then sold me one when I asked if he could get me one.”

“He wouldn't let ME try, because I'm a GIRL. Sexist idiot,” Marie mumbled.

“So only Fridrich tried it?”

“Yeah. I heard he puked his guts out,” she fake-whispered.

“That's not true!” he turned red – a good sign he was lying. Then he tried to find a lighter. “Where in the hell-“

“I can light them with magic,” I offered, too interested in this new experience.

“Aren't you forbidden by the magical law?”

“Only if I use a wand,” I rolled my eyes. “Like I'm so fucking weak I can't do spells without a piece of dead wood.”

“Sure, oh great wizard – light it up,” I was given one of the cigarettes. A touch of my index finger lit in up.

“Now mine!” Marie offered her own one which I lit together with a third one. “Now what?”

“Are you fucking stupid?” I asked even though I know the answer.

“I just wanted to ask!” she huffed before taking a drag. And then she started to cough, which made me and my oldest sibling laugh. “Assholes.”

“I know,” I tried it and couldn't help myself and coughed too.

“See?” she grinned and jabbed an elbow in-between my ribs. Ouch. The next try was easier and before I finished the cancer-stick I learned how to do it properly. “I think I don't like it enough.”

“Really? Don't you want to be cool and stuff?” Fridrich asked, already smoking another one.

“Not enough I guess,” she scrunched her nose. “But I don't mind the smell. At least Henry is enjoying himself,” they snickered at my laying self. The nicotine loosened my stiffness and made my thoughts go slower, much more manageable. I need to get my hands on these – in bulk because I doubt there is a seller in Hogwarts. I could put my stored Polyjuice potion I brewed last Christmas holidays. I'm sure mum left some hair in her hairbrush.

“Go fuck yourself,” I mumbled before inhaling the quickly addicting smoke and puffing it out together with a bit of my magic – making it into boats that floated around my siblings' heads. They laughed in surprise.

“Nice trick.”

“Better than being able to snort a bugger like a fucking rocket.”

“Hey! That's a crowd-pleaser!”

Chapter 14: Dealing with Lockhart

Notes:

Don't ask me how I managed to have Valentine in the 14th chapter...
But let it be known that I almost caved and named this 14. February

Chapter Text

Valentine always seemed like a joke to me – and a magical one, organized by Lockhart, was even worse. Walls were covered in pink barf shaped like flowers and little heart-shaped confetti were getting stuck in my hair.

I sat amongst twins so I was covered at least from two sides. By back was un-guarded, but I hoped Luna or Hermione would tell me if a certain peacock was attacking me from behind.

Lockhart was wearing garish pink robes that had frills on the sleeves and on the bottom, his hair pampered more than usual and his teeth blinded me even from his distanced position. I took off my glasses to rub my eyes in pain. What a fucking eye-sore.

Severus and Minerva looked as disgusted as me – the old woman had a tick under her eye and the tall dark teacher had a murder in his eyes. Does that mean he will be more vicious in our murder plans? And would Minerva finally join?

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart shouted. “And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn’t end here!”

“Kill me, please, or take me to the depths of fiery hell so I can get away from this fucking hell…”

“Come on, little Raven, it can't be that bad,” George laughed nervously.

Lockhart clapped his hands and a dozen of dwarfs in golden winds, diapers and carrying harps came through the door. They looked as annoyed as I and many students – which is a feat.

“My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” beamed Lockhart. “They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!”

At least Flitwick is going to suffer too. At first, he looked stoic, now he resembles my favourite potions teacher. His goblin blood makes it look almost wicked. I wonder how many people will have the balls to ask Severus for a Love Potion? He would probably give them poison with a venomous smile…

We got out of the Great Hall unscathed and I went to History with Hermione who was suspiciously silent. “Did you eat something bad?”

“No! Why would you think that?” I looked closer at her, narrowing my eyes.

“Did you sent Lockhart a Valentine?”

“NO! Why would I sent such an asshole a Valentine?” she got into my face, but I wasn't backing off.

“You were silent since he said he got forty-six.”

“It has nothing to do with that – it just made me think about mum and dad. We always gave valentines to each other,” she shrugged. Oh, so she was sad?

“We never celebrated it. Well, Fridrich and Marie always bring a horde of chocolates and cards home. However, dad and mum think it's a horrible holiday and say they have valentine's day the whole year. Sappy bullshit, if you ask me.”

“That's cute, not sappy. Say it with me – C-U-T-E!”

“F-U-C-K Y-O-U.” She rolled her eyes and snickered. “I hope it won't escalate as it usually did in the higher classes filled with already sexually active teens – they snogged in any available nook and cranny. I couldn't even take a piss without hearing an exchange of saliva,” I shivered and Hermione laughed out loud.

“I expected you would have this outlook, but it's still funny.”

“You're such a cunt-“

“Oi, you! ‘enry Bundy!” I stilled and slowly turned around to look at a small dwarf. “I have this for you,” he gave me a big bouquet of red roses intertwined with peacock feathers. “And this,” he gave me a card and box of chocolates.

“From who-“

“Can't tell! I have many gifts to give, so don't even try!“ And then he was gone. I couldn't even find the energy to curse him into an early grave.

I knew Lockhart sent me the roses – if Hermione was a little slower I would burn them. It would be such a nice fire that might serve as a torch that would burn down his office. The card was from someone else – ‚I wish you a nice Valentine, Henry. Hope you won't burn this!‘ (I couldn't recognise the writing so I put it in my pocket to examine later). And the expensive-looking box seemed to be from Lockhart but I couldn't ruin a box of unopened delight.

I shrank it so it fit in my coat pocket and ignored those flowers Hermione carried. „Do you know from whom it was?“ she asked.

“No idea.“

“Then why are you so angry? They are beautiful and I know you like flowers.”

“Not red roses,” I shrugged, although I knew she was well aware of my lie.

***

“Did you like my gift?” Why am I so stubborn and walk around alone? I turned around to face Lockhart. “I noticed you are not wearing the skirt I bought you. Such a lovely colour, it would make your eyes pop – just like blue does to me.” He came so close I started to back up. “Why haven't you worn it?“

“I left it at home,” I lied expertly. The truth is I burned it while cackling in an abandoned classroom where no one could find me. It made me feel better.

“Pitty – but if you want, I can buy you a new one,” he came so close I ran into a wall. It shocked me enough to take my breath away (in a bad, rushed way). “Better – maybe shorter.”

“I think it was really fucking short already,” I mumbled and tried to find an escape route, but came up with nothing. He is a horrible wizard but even he could shoot me down if I ran.

“And what about the roses and chocolate? I hear Miss Grander took them?”

“She likes flowers and especially roses, so I gave them to her.”

“Such a good boy,” he patted my head – I shied away from his touch but he took my chin and turned my face to face him. He was much stronger than myself. “You are starting to take my lessons to heart! You act so much kinder than you used to – after a little glow up you would be fit for your position as the boy-who-lived.”

“If you say so,” I tried to push him away without my magic but he wasn't moving. He was one of those people who have muscle so I could only feel his pectorals.

“I see you tried my chocolates,” he ducked down to my height level and breathed into my face. He smelled like mint and citrus with undertones of basic skin-care stench.

“What the fuck-“

He kissed me. Like, on the mouth. My eyes almost fell out of my head in shock and for a moment I obviously forgot I'm a wizard because I tried to get him off of me using my fists that hit his chest repeatedly. But only for a second or two – then my magic reacted and pushed him back so strongly I heard a loud bang. I didn't even LOOK at him before sprinting away and hiding in a girls bathroom where no one would look for me.

Angry tears streamed down my face – how dare he? Not only am I his student, but minor too! (Why me? I'm not pretty, handsome or anything.)

I heard hissing that usually could be heard around here so I wasn't even reacting – until it was really close and I could understand it – today it wasn't singing about ripping and killing.

„Is hatchling alright?“

„'m fine,“ I hissed back and looked around. „Where are you hiding?“

„In the water-pipesss. Hisssss OPEN at the sssnake-ssshaped faucet, it will ssshow you where I hide.“ I stood up, rubbed salty water from my cheeks and walked around all sinks before I found the correct one.

„Open,“ I hissed at it. It started to move and after a minute there was a hole leading to god-knows-where. „Are you there?“

„Yes, speaker. I will shield my eyes, so no worry – you can look at me.“ Yellow eyes cut through the darkness of the pipe and the big snake partially slithered out, into the bathroom. I could see it showed me only a small portion of its body.  

„Are you the so-called Slytherin Monster?“ I asked rudely. But I needed to know.

„Yes, but originally I wasss called the Protector of Hogwartsss, Sssoteria,“ she bowed her giant head. „I felt the young heir was in dissstresssss, ssso I came to help you.“

“Fucking hell,” I muttered. “I don't need help, Sssoteria. I can take care of this myself.“ I got an idea. „Yes – myself. Do you know a spell that can extract memories?“

“I don't, but there might be something in my father's personal study.“

Slytherin's study? „Take me there. Errr, please.“

„No problem, young heir. It's your legacy, after all.“

She slithered down called at me that I have free passage – so I slid down to her. She was moving on old bones and shed skin so I vanished the junk. „Thank you, young heir.“

„It was disgustingly messy – even for me and I had a rotting mouse in my room for days.“

„Why haven 't you eaten it?”

“I'm afraid I couldn't stomach that – humans have a lot weaker stomachs in comparison to snakes.”

“Poor thing,” she hissed and almost tripped me when she curled her big tail around my legs in what I can only describe as a hug. I petted her, mostly because that was the only thing I could think about. She was soft and cool like silk – I might enjoy her ‘hugs’, especially tomorrow when it will be three days since I slept the last time. Oh well, though for later (little cleaning and this might be the third best place for a nap in the castle).

We went through a round door she barely fit and then I became her maid – everything was wet, decaying or covered in plants so I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. Only after that could I get into a hidden door that was just minutes ago partially submerged in water and covered by leaves. 

But it was worth it. There was a study room filled with shelves that were completely stuffed with old books. Some were bound in leather, some had desks made out of wood – and some were just sewn pages. I inhaled the smell of old paper. I was in heaven – but there was no time to dally around. Soteria told me that if I said in Paranseltongue what type of book I needed the library would give it to me if it had it. So I asked and five books flew over to a dusty table. I cleaned it, sat on one of the creakiest chairs I ever encountered, lit up a cigarette and got to work.

Lockhart's don't catch themselves.

***

I emerged from the Chamber after hours upon hours of reading, exhausted. A leather-bound book laid close to the entrance – my nosiness wouldn't let me leave it there so I hid it in one of my pockets and went to the Headmasters office. My memories of every weird encounter with the asshole in a potion-bottle.

Tempus showed me that it was already after dinner - let's hope the old man is as horrible as my father who cannot go to sleep before midnight. I'm not willing to wait until tomorrow, I already missed enough classes today. I jogged through the halls, ducked to hidden alcoves or passages when I heard someone and after too long I finally arrived. Twins told me that Headmaster has a weird fascination with sweets because he uses their names as password all the time (and they would know, not just once did their prank get them to meet the old man).

I wonder why nobody ever suspects me of being part of those...

“…sugar quill, pumpkin pie, sherbet lemon-“ griffin statue guarding the office I was trying to get to jumped to the side and I could run up the stairs. I wanted to just burst in but then I remembered that people usually help people more easily if they are… nice. I want to gag over that word but I knocked nonetheless.

“Come, come!” jovial male voice let me in and before I could grab the door-handle, they opened on their own. “Henry, how can I help you?”

I froze for a minute (old habits die hard I guess) but after a deep breathe-in, I looked him in the eyes that (like mine) sometimes shone with magical bursts. Especially when a chair moved so I had better access to it. “Do you know that Lockhart for some reason too liking to me?”

“Yes, it's a widely known fact.” His shoulders straightened and the small smile hidden under his white moustache disappeared. “What happened, Henry?”

“He is always weird around me. He favourited me in classes since the beginning but most teachers do like me so that was partially ok – just my hate for the lier fucked his chances to get on my good side. Then he started to give me detentions for fucking stupid fucking reasons and tried to ‘teach me how to be a bloody fucking celebrity’. I said no but he was even more annoying, even after many warnings ending with his head hitting the stone.” How should I put the rest? How to say-

“Would you like some tea? Maybe even lemon drop?”

“If you have earl grey then sure.” I am quite parched after many hours of research than often took the wrong turn and I forgot myself in a potion diary or ten. In a blink of an eye, there was a mug with steaming tea. “Thanks,” I said into the air – twins took me to the kitchens numerous times so I know elves went mad (in a good way) after praise.

“I see you know about our elf staff,” he smiled, amused. There was still something hard in his face. “Would you be so kind and finish your story?”

I tried to, but the words ‘Lockhart is either a pedophile or power-hungry with a fetish for celebrities’ just wouldn't go across my tongue. “I extracted my memories of those accidents, headmaster. Will it be sufficient?” The shock on his face was nice, I can deal with that.

“Where did you learn that?”

“In a book, moron,” I sneered and sipped some tea. “It was decently easy to do as I have perfect memory and can pull on memories without an issue. Similar to a Master of Occlumency, but it's fully natural and without training.” I pulled out the bottle. “They have the right colour and consistency so they are in perfect condition.” Old hands brushed over mine for a second but I shied back away from him after he held my memories in a secure grip.

“I will check over them – would you like to assist me so you can check if there are no mistakes?”

“I don't do mistakes – and my curfew is nearing, so…” I tried to smile widely. I was forced to remember them in disturbing detail just an hour before – nothing could make me do that again.

“Then go sleep,” He sighed after a staring-battle. “Come here tomorrow after classes. Do I have your consent to show it to someone else or authorities?”

“You can show it to Minerva or Severus. And authorities – but don't drag my parents into this, it's nothing they have to stress about now. I will tell them myself.”

“Sure. Have a nice sleep, Henry.” He smiled widely and waved when I quickly exited.

I did it.

Bloody hell, I did it.

Well, I know there is no chance of sleeping today after that

***

Minerva wasn't having a good morning. Her coffee wasn't strong enough, there was nothing on the table that sparked her appetite during the breakfast and then she was called to Dumbledore's office. The only thing that elated her mood was how much worse for wear looked Severus who was many things – but not a morning bird. They stood beside each other in front of the headmaster's desk, nervous because of the sad look the old man was sporting on his usually cheerful face.

“Why did you call us so soon in the morning?” Severus finally snapped. “We have classes, you know?”

“And both of the rooms have a letter on the doors telling your students they have a free period. I was trusted yesterday with information and you were the two teachers that were allowed to know this too. Before I say anything – I won the bet!” he smiled but his eyes told another story.

“Is it something with Henry?” After all, there was no other student that trusted Severus AND Minerva.

“Let me show you his memories fist – it will be faster.”

“He let you roam in his head to extract them?” Asked the surprised animagus.

“He learned how to do it himself – and did an extraordinary job like he usually does, might I add. He has the clearers memories I have ever seen – especially for someone untrained in Occlumency.”

Both teachers were ushered to the pensive and dove in without too much prompting. They appeared in the DADA classroom and watch a scene of how Lockhart met Henry for the first time. It looked harmless, but they saw how the dumb blond might deduct that Henry had a crush on him. Then there were the other classes when the angry boy was forced to play different characters – again, nothing surprising. But then the memories of the detentions came – Lockhart always gushed about being a celebrity, about etiquette, how to look your best, how to speak… but the disturbing part was touching that started as hair-ruffles, patting the back and grew into involuntary half-hugs, lingering touches on the knee and thigh when they were working on piles of letters, head-scratches. However, that wasn't the end – they saw a scene of a happy family around a Christmas tree that stopped when the only wizard in the room saw one of his gifts. It ended with the kiss that made Henry tell authorities, the last drop.

Minerva was red with anger and lowly hissing like an angry cat. Snape was silently murderous, dark curses curling on his lips and magic prepared to be used for torture.

“I already sent a copy of the memories to the Child-Protection Department yesterday and Aurors should be here in an hour. Gilderoy doesn't know about any of this because I didn't want him to escape.

“What about Bundys?”

“Henry said he will tell them but there is no need to drag them into this. They couldn't help after all, as they are muggles.”

“True,” Severus huffed, still on the verge of running out of the office and going on a murder spree. Not only was Henry Lilly's son he promised to protect, but he also became his friend.

“Let's hope they will let him continue to study here,” Minerva mumbled, unsure that being muggle would stop the two parents from tearing Lockhart a new one. How no one noticed? Why it took so long for Henry to tell? What if he continued his silence? She felt like her heart tried to break apart.

She hoped Lockhart would go into Azkaban – which was very probable as Wizard World treasured children above anything else and people who sometimes only looked at minor wrongly ended up paying a hefty fine. Minerva didn't like Lucius Malfoy and probably never would but he was the cruellest prosecutor of child abusers. He will make sure that Gilderoy Lockhart ends up in prison (and if name Bundy won't make him work hard, Potter for sure will).

***

I don't understand much from your notes but I can help you with dark magic theory.

What? Who the fuck are you? How are writing in this journal? Are you T. M. R.?

I'm memory of Tom Marvolo Riddle, trapped in this – MY – diary. Writing is the only way I can communicate.

I'm Henry. So, what do you know about the difference between light and dark magic? And how one becomes a light/dark wizard?

That's what the circles and math were about? Well, to answer your question – the biggest difference between light and dark magic is designated by how easy it is to use by a wizard/witch. Everyone is born with some shade of magic and those with darker shades find it easier to use dark magic, and vice versa.

So why is ‘dark magic’ abolished?

Well, that's an interesting question…

Chapter 15: The Last Stab

Chapter Text

After Lockhart got fired, I somehow felt lighter. It made me think about how to get rid of the other problem in my life – bullies. And not only mine, but I was also determined to do something about Luna's problem too. I had no idea what to do (besides murder but I promised dad not to get into THAT problem when I was in kindergarten).

Twins tried pranking and telling authorities but Flitwick is a dunderhead so that didn't work. I thought about their future torture hard and often, but there was something else on my mind after Lockhart finally left the school and we got a new teacher – ex-Auror that didn’t want us to work with THOSE stupid books. He mostly practised spells with us and told us about duelling strategies and how to combine spells. Which meant those ‘books’ were now worthless to me and I could do what I wanted to do for months (Tom was weirdly enthusiastic for someone who never had to read them).

***

There was something happening in the castle. Minerva saw big groups of students that ran from one specific direction and then back with books in their hands. Or they ran with big, scared eyes. So she went to investigate – the first thing she heard was crazy, high-pitched laughter (it reminded her of stories told to her by fellow Order of Phoenix members that saw Voldemort fight with inhuman glee and loud laughter). Then she felt the heat and last but not least – she saw a big bonfire on the courtyard.

“What is going on!” she yelled at the small crowd that was watching the fire and some even threw book or stack of them into it. 

“Professor!” yelled a high-pitched voice and she knew exactly who it was. His eyes were wide open and completely mad. Not even twins came close to him, just stood next to Hermione and Luna and watched the scene with bored expressions while the girls read thick tomes. “Want to contribute?”

“With what, Henry?”

“Books from that motherfucker, of course!” He cackled again, head thrown back and eyes shining green. She was much more used to the calm brown with only hints of green so it made her speechless how much they represented the colour of the killing curse. “Severus already helped me with burning his portraits,” he whispered without actually being quiet so most people in the vicinity could hear him. Then he again burst into giggles and fell on his ass in mad convulsions. His smile was positively deranged.

“This is against school rules-“

“Technically not, I check it. I originally wanted to make it in the Great Hall but THAT would be problematic. And because I told Severus, it's completely legal as bonfires are a big part of many light rituals,” he calmed down slightly, but small bursts of laughter left him from time to time. “After all, fire is the symbol of light and life!”

What could she say to that?

“You are lucky you missed his dance around the fire,” Miss Granger grumbled after she came closer to her Transfiguration teacher. “At first I thought he was summoning God of Fire or something.”

“I think it was funny,” George threw an arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

“The best thing is that Henry can't dance,” added his twin that helped the giggling pile of robes to stand up.

***

I researched different potions and spells that were not deadly but would still do enough damage to be substantial. Slytherins made this easier for me because they had all the fun books about spells that sounded exciting enough for me to lose sleep over them. Tom was also a good source when it came to darker hexes and jinxes – I tried some of them on unsuspecting victims and they worked almost always after the second try. He suspects that my core is on the darker side, just like his was.

I hand-picked the students that were the worst to Luna and sneaked into the Ravenclaw dorms under my invisibility cloak around three a. m. I added several potions to their things – shampoos, body-wash gels, toothpaste tubes, hair-stuff for styling, creams and lastly I charmed all their mirrors to not reflect the damage done by my beautiful potions. Also, none of them would notice what happened to their dorm-mates.

That was why they came to the Great Hall, not knowing why everybody stared at them. It took three days for my creations to finally work but they did exactly what I wanted – when people started to ask them questions, I lifted the notice-me-not charms from the group of females and listened to their horrified screams. Luna squeezed my hand with a wide, cruel smile that I mirrored and watched my victims.

When Flitwick ushered them to the Healing Wind I followed under my cloak so I would know how well my experiments worked. Poppy scanned their burned-looking skin, shining bald heads and black teeth. The latter two were surprisingly easy to make with the help of already existing potions that did the opposite thing (whitened teeth and made hair grow faster). However, to make something that slowly burned the skin and at the same time cooled and numbed it so the victim couldn't feel pain from it was a challenge and I experimented on rats that Soteria hunted down for me (dozens of them were killed by me because they squealed in excruciating pain and only two survived their contribution to science).

Poppy was a capable Healer but she was obviously at her wit's end when she called Severus. “I have no idea how to reverse the potions, Severus – they are nothing I encountered before. Are they Dark?”

He looked over them with a sharp eye and I expected he would pull out vials with unknown potions and that he would heal them without an issue. “It is probably part of their hygienic products. Nobody seemed to notice anything probably because a powerful notice-me-not.” Check, check. What now? “I never encountered potions that would do something like this-“ he tried another diagnostic spell. “I worry I don't know how to make all of this go away – simple cream for burns and scars should help with your skin, teeth are pretty easy to whiten again – but the hair is ingenious. There is an ingredient – probably a dragon-skin – that makes it impossible for your hair to grow in any other way than naturally.” I wanted to cackle, but I was able to hold it in.

They looked so heart-broken! Because of hair!

Then I followed Severus and Poppy after they left my victims. “Who do you think did it?” Poppy asked.

“Henry, or him and his devious group. It's the group of girls that bullied Ms Lovegood.”

“So, was it all true? What you told those girls?”

“Yes, that’s why I think Henry had his fingers in this. I'm glad he didn't literally burn them – like Lockhart's books. I might find something when I reverse-engineer it from their shampoos and such but I'm not too keen on helping them.” I left them to their conversation after that, happy that everything worked just how I wanted.

“You’re the best friend!” Luna came at me from the side and hugged me around my poor, poor ribs.

“Of course I am, Hermione would never torture people for you.”

“Do you have plans for the rest of the school?”

“I need to somehow show them that I'm not heir Slytherin…”

“You might not trust me, but your problem will disappear in a few days,” she smiled up with a mysterious smile and misty eyes.

“Fucking hell, this doesn't help me at all!” I groaned and pushed her away by the forehead. She giggled happily.

“Happy to help!”

“I said that it was fucking horrible help!” 

I was thinking about what and if something is going to happen when Fred shook me by the shoulder during breakfast. He was holding the Daily Prophet and his wide-open eyes told me that something was wrong. “What?”

“Just read it and prepare for the worst,” he muttered and gave me the horrible piece of paper. I read some older issues in the library and they were never truthful and/or reliable – but my name in big letters and Lockhart's face under it was enough for me to read.

Lockhart was convicted for his behaviour against me but more importantly, he told everyone (under Veritaserum) how he stole memories from real heroes and wrote about their adventures – and never financially compensated them. But that part was only mentioned because the paper selling information was that Lockhart wanted to have his last interview as a free man – and his last asssholery against my person (as someone who was ‘responsible’ for his misery) was that he told the author what is the new name of Boy-Who-Lived. How I was raised by muggles (so people think I'm muggle-born) and that I look nothing like my parents.

There was my photo under the article. It must have been taken during one of my detentions with him and I was fully unaware of how he managed that. It was a photo of my profile while I was hunching over a desk and I kept pushing my hair to the side (in frustration, and my bangs were a little too long before Christmas break) so my scar was showing from time to time.

People started to watch me like hungry vultures and there was calm before the storm – too short in my opinion.

“Fuck,” I yelped when a first person almost jumped at me with questions if it was true. Then another one, who tried to hug me – kick to the ribs taught them a lesson but the other wasn't smart enough to learn from the mistakes of others. She got a stinging hex between eyes from Fred and a boy beside her was hit with Petrificus Totalus by Hermione. Luna stabbed someone with a fork, judging by her blood-thirsty smile and a pain-filled wail.

“CALM DOWN!” The headmaster yelled, using Sonorus like a muggle would use a mic. “GO TO YOUR SEATS, CHILDREN!”

“Yes, you motherfuckers!” I hissed at those who missed the memo. “Shoo!”

“MR BUNDY MIGHT BE ALSO HARRY POTTER, BUT THERE IS NO NEED TO BOTHER HIM BECAUSE OF HIS STATUS! Mr Lockhart was under silence-vow but after he was fired, he went against it – which was very rude of him. Mr Bundy wants to live a normal school life, SO DON'T TREAT HIM ANY DIFFERENT! If anyone makes an issue out of this, they will get week-long detention with Mr Filch!”

Somehow, the stop of bullying was worse than the attacks themselves. The fact that I was revealed as their beloved Boy-Who-Lived made them stop believing in me being the Heir of Slytherin – but I wanted to kill them more than ever. I was forced to give autographs with ‘subtle’ threats of bodily harm, I received letters from my ‘fans’ and people started to act differently around me.

I was even worse around those types of people, would blow up in their faces faster than a stick of lit dynamite. I made a new safe-place in Hospital Wing where Poppy breathed fire on anyone who disturbed her patients (or me). She appreciated my help, at least I think so. Or did she just like to have someone working with her? After all, she is usually alone in her domain when Minerva is in classes or deals with Griffins.

***

Hello Henry,

I received a letter from Mrs Tonks who told me that one of your teachers told everyone about your birth name. Are we suing?

Love,

Dad

I rolled my eyes and wrote my answer on the other side of his short note. “Eat anything, Galileo,” I muttered and then snickered when someone shrieked when a big raven ascended on their plate.

He was fired before he told everyone – and he's in prison for inappropriately touching some students. So chill.

Hate, Henry

I'm glad no one said anything about me being the one who was Lockhart's victim. Probably because I'm a minor, to protect me. At least there was that positive outcome (I have no idea what would I do – no, what would THEY do).

“Good morning,” Hermione smiled at us and sat next to me. I had a ‘sleepover’ with Luna in our room so I didn't have the pleasure of kicking her out of bed. She looks amusing with hair wild from sleep. “Are you again staying during the Easter Holiday? Dad and mum have too much work so I will stay this time too.”

“Yes, I'm staying. Have you started annoying Minerva about the elective subject yet?”

“…maybe?” I snickered when she turned red.

“Predictable, you need to work on that.”

“Did you pick already?” Luna asked from my other side.

“I think I will take all elective subjects,” Hermione smiled at her only girl friend in our group.

“Muggle studies?” I raised my eyebrow in disbelief. “Are you aware that you probably have more experience with the muggle world than the teacher?”

“But if I want to have as much OWL as I can –“

“You can just take the test, no need to have classes. And Divination – you can't tell me you are interested in reading from tea leaves or rubbing off a glass ball.”

“But-“

“Take it if you want, but the books are shit – and George told me the teacher is batshit crazy without an ounce of intelligence in her small brain. You are too smart to waste time with a dunderhead,”

“Thank you, Snape,” Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled lightly. I expected more anger after I told her what to do. “Are you taking Runes and Arithmetacy, then?”

“And Magical Creatures, Luna here sparked my interest,” I pushed the clingy blond from my side where she tried to coo at me like I was Harry. “I think we might for once share more classes if you choose the same ones.”

“Of course I will – but if I fail Muggle Studies, then you will pay and help me with redeeming myself.”

“Sure, sure. Which reminds me – where are twins?”

“They had a Quidditch training in the morning.”

“It's raining,” I deadpanned.

“I know – the captain is almost as crazy about Quidditch as you are around fire.”

“Doubt that many people can sing and dance at the same time.”

“You call that dance? More like an epileptic shock – but on two feet.”

“My speciality, thank you for noticing.”

***

April rolled around and exams crept into the mind of the crazy Griffindor girl who tried to make us all hate the library with her hysteric repeating of a known material. Twins were better this year with their school so they didn't need much help besides some nudges in the correct direction. Well, there were some kicks but let's not talk about THAT. Luna asked me only about the practical part of her upcoming tests which I shared without an issue (Hermione muttered something about cheating, but teachers should expect older students to sell their secrets to younger ones).

I was chill about the exams – what unnerved me was that Tom started to act weird. His arguing skills died in a ditch and humour left the chat. He pushed me to ‘play with my friends’ even though everyone was usually deep asleep when I wrote to him. Then one day I blacked out for an hour (and I know I wasn’t sleeping, I never nap after five hours of sleep) and lost him.

Then the attacks started again – some girl from Ravenclaw was turned to stone, which was irrelevant but there was another victim brought in (just when I was chatting with Poppy over a good cup of tea). Hermione.

***

It was difficult to see Hermione stiff as a stone, laying in white bedsheets. Her wild hair looked weirdly limp, which made me even more aggravated. But even though I was feeling awful, Henry looked worse. Most would expect him to take this the easiest (and I kind of did too), but the unpredictable boy was in a half crazy, half miserable state.

I tried to provide comfort, we pranked anyone who came close to us and George cracked joke after joke, but nothing worked. He ignored us completely, determined to find out-of-season mandrakes or make a different potion that would help. Thanks to that he usually fell asleep in classes or at lunch – Luna managed to sometimes drag him onto a couch but most often she just covered him with his favourite fluffy blanket because he fell asleep on the ground next to his experiment.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered when a panic arose in the Great Hall. I put a hand on his hunched over the shoulder.

“What is going on?” I asked Percy, who was thankfully near.

“There is some note on the wall,” his girlfriend stepped into our conversation. “Some student was taken into it.”

“Does anyone know who the fuck was stupid enough to get kidnapped?” Henry muttered and pushed his plate away from him, so he had a place where to put his elbows and then planted his face into pale hands. “What the fuck – is it really you, Tom?” he muttered so quietly I almost missed it. I acted cool but burned with interest. Does he know who might be the Heir?

“They are just counting the students-“

Then we heard that it might be Ginny and I lost blocks on my patience and interest. “You know something.”

“I might, but I'm not sure,” he muttered, tired as they come. I don't mind that he had a face as emotive as a stone – he has no feelings for my little sister. “I never even thought about her being- but it might be the truth,” he muttered.

“You know where Ginny was taken?” George hissed with big eyes.

“Only MAYBE, but-“

“No, no buts, we are going!” he stood up. I followed my twin and twisted fingers in Ravenclaw robes so Henry had something to lean on when his sleepy mind forgot to keep up the pace. He told us to go to female bathrooms near where the attacks happened. He went to one of the sinks and hissed at it – I could only bulge my eyes out when it opened up to show a tunnel. “And you never told us about this?”

“Soteria asked me to keep this secret – and she is too nice to be a killer of children. She is the Guardian of the School,” he yawned and rubbed his eyes before chugging a pepper-up hidden in one of his many pockets. “I can check it out myself if you don't want to go.”

“No, no, we will go. You never know, maybe you will need our help!” I hate how right I was at that moment.

-------------------------------------------

My drawing of Henry:

Drawing of Henry

Chapter 16: Mark of Slytherin

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

We went through a dark tunnel – after an exciting slide down a giant tube – which was weirdly enough clean. I expected bones, water from the pipes, dust, cobwebs, ANYTHING, but there was only stuffy air. Our trail had many turns and we walked for quite a while – until we couldn't. There was a solid wall ahead on which two intertwined serpents were carved, their eyes similar colour to Henry when he used his magic (or was giggling madly next to a fire).

The younger boy hissed at them a short word (probably open or fuking open) and went through a crack in the wall before it managed to fully open. For once, it wasn't him who said “Fucking hell!” George grabbed my hand for emotional support, his eyes big with awe and fear. We were standing in a dimly lit chamber, pillars that had alive-looking carvings of snakes on them supported the ceiling that was hidden in darkness. It sent chills down my spine – Henry wasn't even looking around, which supported my theory that he knew a lot more than any living soul about this.

Bar the Slytherin Heir, of course.

On the other end of the chamber was a huge statue of a bearded man, his sharp features highlighted by the green light. But nothing caught my eye more than the body of my little sister on the ground. 

“Ginny!” George cried out and ran to her side. “Please, wake up – Ginny, wake up-“

I stayed by Henry’s and looked around us, so I was the first one who saw the older boy.

“She won't wake,” he said with a soft voice. It was scary how much he reminded me of my best friend – willowy, dark-haired, his eyes brownish-green that gleamed with intelligence. However, he was slightly blurred around the edges and a smirk on his face had no sadistic glee behind it.

“What did you do to her?!”

“She's alive, no worry – at least for now.” The hidden sadism shined from under his sweet mask. I prefer the rough truthfulness of Henry's face. “It's nice to finally meet you face to face, Henry.” Surprisingly – now he looked truly happy.

“Tom,” he nodded shortly, frowning. “So you did all of it. Have you somehow possessed Ginny?”

“Yes, did you put it together now or before?” He went closer to us, ignoring the other pair.

“Before, because you fucking MISSED the fact that I don't just MISS AN HOUR OF MY LIFE without noticing, you sly MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Truly magnificent.” He was circling around us like a predator preparing for a pounce. “Did you manage to uncover another one of my secrets?”

“What do you mean?” I asked and stepped in front of the shorter boy.

“You somehow drained her magic which is why you have your own body. You took MY magic too, haven't you?”

“Not only her magic, my dear Henry. Also her life force, which will give me body! Your magic just made it easier, such a lovely dark wild beauty. I wasn't even trying to take it, it just went through me and allowed me to keep a little at a time. I made you give me away when I couldn’t stop my nature to take and take and take-“

“Got it. Just… release her. You act fucking irrational outside of the diary, Tom. You need to go back – and we can find another way.” Henry pushed me back, so he could hold an eye-contact. I could almost applaud him for how calm he managed to be.

“No, I listened to her wishes and needs for so long – Quidditch this, Quidditch that, Ron-the-annoying-brother, twins that are just SO cool…” he was crazily mumbling now. “I will become a real boy again, and then we can study the dark arts together! We could travel to gain knowledge, with my Slytherin Vaults! We could rule the world, two most powerful wizards – standing side by side against the whole world!” He came closer and closer until he stood in front of Henry. I was frozen in shock when he grabbed his freckled face – but not at all surprised when the ghost got yeeted across the chamber (I have truly horrible reactions). 

“Come on, asshole – I bet there are better ways to get a body!”

“No, no, no – bad Henry, such a bad boy – you should be punished, yes, punished-“ Then he started hissing at the statue, which opened its mouth wide open. A big body could be seen moving in the darkness and after a short while, a huge snake slithered out of there. I stepped in front of Henry to shield him but he pushed me back again and hissed at the serpent. I never imagined that reptiles could be so expressive with their facial features and tones of hissing. It looked distressed, unwilling to do what her master told her. The so-called Tom hissed in abundance too and took out a yew wand.

Ginny's wand. It made my blood boil and my stomach curl in discomfort. They were obviously incompatible.

***

“I can't say no to the Slytherin Heir, little heir,” Soteria hissed with a hitch that would usually mean someone was on the verge of crying.

“Kill his friends, but not Henry, not the little heir,” Tom grinned widely, none of his previous intelligence to be seen.

“Soteria, no!”

“I'm sorry,” she bowed her head before striking in George's direction. I pushed as much magic as I could into one blow at the tip of her nose and it only stopped her marginally. Fred shielded us from an unknown red spell that Tom shot at us. They fell into a duel while I tried to keep her distracted from her forced goal but I was getting weaker – my tiredness strong even under the effects of pepper-up. My blood sugar was too low for this shit, but what can I do?

I managed to lead her further back, away from a vicious duel between twins and the memory – George joined his brother because Fred alone could never stand up to Tom who was a genius like myself (and what is worse – for them – he specialized in hexes and jinxes, not potions). I threw rubble created by a blasting curse that didn't hit its intended target and threw it at her, when she lost her interest in my only slightly hurtful spells. I should really practice my duelling more (such a horribly bland subject).

Maybe I could look into spell creation, that might suit me a lot- “Eek!” I shrieked when a big bird flung just centimetres from my head and attacked Soteria's precious eyes. “Hey!” I threw one of the rocks at it so it managed to scratch out only one eye. “She's not using them!” If she did, I would be dead but she hissed a soft promise before the fight that she would keep her primary eyelids closed. “Stupid flying fucker!” I completely forgot what was happening at that moment, but a cutting hex that hit my cheek brought me back.”

“I said kill the other boys, you stupid snake!” Tom hissed at her angrily before hitting Fred with a spell square in the chest which threw him at least two meters back. Geoge hit his opponent with a blasting curse which threw him back too.

Then I saw it, under Fred who was wheezing (probably because of broken ribs). The summoning spell didn't work so I yelled at him while ducking under an attack. “Forge, under – to me!” I shortened it and hoped for cooperation – thankfully he was not only a good translator but also a thrower. I spun around and waited for an attack filled with teeth - put the diary above my head and hoped I would survive the chomp. Someone screamed and I felt pain like never before – my screams resonated with Tom's, but his were screechier and stopped before mine. I was hiccuping in pain because the left part of my face was not only scratched by the basilisk tooth but also drenched in her potent poison.

“Little heir, what is going on?” she asked, probably just as blind as myself right now. I couldn't calm her down, as I was in the midst of a confusing whirlwind of pain.

“Pain, so much,” I managed to hiss through my tears.

“Henry!“ one of the twins grabbed my shoulders and lifted my chin up. “The phoenix will help you – he –“

“Not the fucking bird!”

“Calm down! He can help. Phoenix tears can heal,” Fred started to pet my hair like I was a fucking dog but I couldn't get anything past my lips. It would come up as a cry or a screech so I shut up for once. I forced them to clean it first with aquamenti, then let the bird try to cry on most of my injury. It still hurt like a motherfucker and I had no energy to even stand up after that. I ended up on Fred's back and George picked up their sister.

“I'll try to come back as soon as I can,” I managed to tell Soteria before we left. I buried my face in his shoulder (but not the left side) and tried to stop my shaking and whimpering. I felt so much pain.

My hands are no longer as scar-less as they were almost a year ago, my experiments with potions marking them with spots paler than my already pallor shade. I experienced acidic and base burns, felt fire lick my fingers, got a hot liquid on me multiple times. But nothing ever felt this bad – nothing burned like the most potent poison (in the magical world) and a powerful corrosive substance.

Through the haze of pain, I understood only that we managed to get out and the twins were stopped by someone. Then I blacked-out – because the next thing I remember is fretting Poppy who was cleaning my wound with healing salves. However, we were not in the infirmary – but in the headmaster's office.

“Fred has broken ribs,” I muttered before a pain-filled hiss came through my lips. “Be more careful, bitch!”

***

Albus Dumbledore regrated many things – he thought it came with his age but Minerva was only a few decades younger and she was much more in peace with her past.

He regretted his youth the most - Ariana's death, Abefort's growing hate for his older brother, fall of Gellert into dark arts. But then there were things like his always obvious dislike for Tom Riddle (he treated him bad since he met the boy), favouritism towards Marauders (poor Severus, who never got what the boy truly deserved). He regretted the death of James and Lily Potter, hated that he couldn't help them or save Sirius from prison (The bidings of the one who put up wards and bound them to a Secret-Keeper were merciless – he could never say that Peter was the one who betrayed the Potters. Even if Albus could, he still killed those muggles.). Now he even regretted his decision to put young Henry with his aunt – and was glad that she put him up for adoption and he became part of the Bundy family.

Intellect of that boy was scary, probably even greater than the Dark Lord’s in his prime. Albus had a feeling that people should worship the Bundy family, because they probably stopped the rise of a new dark lord right in the potential beginning. He had the same tendencies and characteristics as Tom – arrogant, intelligent, charismatic. Powerful. Dark. However, where Tom was secretive and sly, Henry was cruelly honest and unapologetically himself (read: rude).

His family gave him love, something Tom never had. They supported him in any subject or interest he had and worked with him on his aggressive nature and lack of morals. What would become of Tom, if he had similar background? Politician, lawyer, minister – or his original dream-job, a teacher?

There was a slight negative to this – there were two angry parents prepared to tear his throat out and siblings that looked scarily similar to their adopted brother when he wanted to blow something up (something like a school or just the headmaster). “Take us there, or I will personally strangle you,” Samatha seethed and the headmaster wasn't even considering something else than nodding.

“I will apparate you to my office, where he's getting the basic treatment by the school healer. You will probably need to go to the hospital – I will take you there after getting his things. He will be excused from all his exams and get a score based on his performance in classes and homework. Please, touch this parchment and expect a feeling like you were dragged through a tight tube.” He tried to make this as short as he could – one of the children in the background had a baseball bat and a deranged look in his blue eyes.

“Fridrich, Marie, take care of your siblings,” their father said calmly before grabbing the parchment. His wife followed but looked at the headmaster with looks that could kill.

“No worry dad!” their oldest daughter smiled fakely. “Hide the bodies well!”

Albus teleported the group to Hogwarts as quickly as possible.

Molly was already there, cuddling her only daughter with fat tears on her freckled cheeks. The twins were between them and young Henry, who had his eyes shut and curled on himself in a plush chair transfigured from a quill. His injury was an angry shade of red and around it was a splotch pink skin partially covered in creams that lowered his pain. Fawkes helped a little, making the venom non-lethal but nothing could get the potent liquid from the pale face fully.

“Oh Harry,” his mother breathed in shock, which made him open his un-injured eye. He looked like a statue before something broke in his cold façade and launched on his mother, gripping her in his spindly arms and a loud pain-filled sob tore out of his throat.

No one expected him to break, he seemed so composed before (but Fred and George knew there was something wrong – their friend never shook like a leaf in a thunderstorm and his eyes have never had such a dead look in them). Samatha dragged him to a chair he exited so quickly and sat down, her son on her lap and his tearful eyes hidden in her shoulder. Gregor stayed calm, gently holding both of them but burning a hole through the headmaster with his deep brown eyes. There was a promise of shouting and probably even a lawsuit in them, but he took care of his family first.

“I couldn't find his trunk in the Raven-“ Severus barged into the office before freezing on the spot. “I'm sorry I interrupt.” He looked at the sobbing boy like it physically hurt him (and it did).

“No need to apologize, professor,” Gregor nodded at him. “Boys, do you where Henry has his things?”

“I'll bring it,” George jumped up and then quickly disappeared, so no one had the opportunity to follow him.

***

Feeling better after my burst of emotions, I was the one who pushed my parents into going to St. Mungos. We were port-keyed to the second floor by the Headmaster, as it was quicker and muggles can't use the floo properly (Mrs Weasley and Ginny went to a different floor, as she wasn't injured by an animal).

Mum held me so strongly it hurt and dad looked more like a dragon than a human when he looked at everyone with an angry curl of his lip. Let's say I was the only one who was calmed down by crying. I wonder what will they do in the future.

One of the healers told us to follow him into an office, immediately after we arrived. People recognized me as Harry Potter and there was a lot more talking than my already agitated magic could take. “So, do you know what animal attacked your son, Mr Bundy?” He talked to dad, not even looking at me. Like I wasn't there.

“By a basilisk, you fucker. Dad wouldn't recognize a testral from a hippogriff. She accidentally scraped my face and released her venom on instinct. I had it cleaned with water and then with cleaning salve by Mrs Pomfrey.”

“She?” he moved his eyes to me, slightly shocked like most adults when I opened my mouth.

“Yes, she. But that is not important – I also got partially healed by phoenix tears so there is no danger to my life. However, it still hurts like a mother-fucker.” He looked for a little too long before using a basic diagnostic charm. Then one a lot more precise, that specialized on sight.

“We can save your face – there are creams and procedures to get rid of scars-“

“No fucking way, I like them. Scars look cool – but what about the pain?!” Something cracked when my magic lashed out. Who asked him about scars?!

“Calm down, Mr Bundy-Potter. Are you sure? It will calm down but the scaring will be still horr-“

“I sssaid I fucking like it. Again -  what about the pain?”

“I'm afraid there is nothing that could help – we will give you painkillers that should make it bearable, but only time can heal injuries this serious.” Fuck you too, asshole. “But there is another thing – can you open your left eye?”

“Judging by your diagnostics I would guess not?” Dad's fingers will leave my shoulder bruised, I'm fully sure about that. Although I was partially sure what would happen, I did try to open my eye-lids. It hurt, but I managed – just to see from only one eye. I logically knew there was little chance I could keep both of my horrible eyes, but hope dies last. “Let's say that I can get an eyepatch.”

“Henry!” Mom yelled in distress and hugged me from my right side. “My poor baby!”

“I could poke his eyes out and then sue him into an early grave,” dad was whispering behind my back and haven't stopped his experiment ‘how long can Henry's shoulder joint last’.

“Is there any magical way of repairing it? I never read about it.”

“There is not – we can make a new magical eye that would give you sight though. It's a complex rune matrix that makes you able to see. There are many models, but the civilian one is like a muggle glass eye – and it’s also the only one you can get. The first one is paid by the ministry, but you will need extra ones because they need to soak in potions so they become wet and don't damage your eye-socket. If you pick this option, of course.”

“Will it be as bad as my actual eyesight? And what are the non-civilian models?” I grew interested.

“It will have a 20/20 vision, as long as you take good care of it. And the non-civilian eyes are too big to fit into a human eye-socket because they have so many runes on them that they need to be bigger. They can see through walls, see magic, move independently from the normal one – but only Aurors, hit-wizards and people in ministry can get their hands on them. “

“How soon can you make it?” Mum asked, still crushing me in her arms.

“In an hour or two, depends if you want one now and later come for the other one or do you want both of them?”

“Both,” I shrugged.

“That means we have time for a general health-check!”

“We regularly visit a GP. Muggle one,” dad added the muggle part when the healer looked at him, confused.

“Yes, that is great – but magical children have usually different development to muggle or squib children, Mr Bundy. Magic changes bodies enough that some consider magical folk as a different race – we have usually better metabolism because magic is just another form of energy. We are immune to common muggle viruses and bacteria, however, muggles are in turn immune to our illnesses. Also, most wizards and witches have weaker bones and bruise easier – although there is research that that is part of being pureblood.”

“Inbreeding does that,” I snickered but then hissed in pain. Too many facial expressions mean HURT PAIN HURT – got it.

“So, can I proceed?”

“Sure,” mum nodded and let go of me. The wizard waved his wand in complex moves (and overdid every swish, show-off). Parchment began to fill with my medical information.

“You are healthy if I don't count your recent injuries. Would you be so kind and answered a few questions?”

“Shoot.”

“So, Henry, do you have a lot of problems with accidental magic?”

“Yes, but I can partially control it. It used to be much more violent, now it just makes small explosions if I'm experiencing heightened emotions.” He wrote that down next to something already inked on the yellowed parchment. I want that paper.

“Have your puberty started already?”

“Are asking me if I started to grow hair or if I jack-off?” I raised an eyebrow. Mum and dad deadpanned next to me. I let the adults simmer before: “I'm only experiencing start od acne. And got my growth spurt I guess.”

“The growing is not part of puberty – you have too much magic for a pre-pubescent sized body so your body automatically grows to accommodate it. It should stabilize before you reach your magical maturity, which is around fourteen to fifteen years old. But you won't get the usual puberty-induced growth spurt.”

“I never heard of something like that.”

“It's very unusual, so that doesn't surprise me. There are some instances, but don’t grow in such noticeable amounts. Next question: when was the last time you slept?”

“Monday.”

“It's Wednesday!”

“Exactly – I was trying to figure something out. Why?”

“Your information shows that you have insomnia, but not because of some external force or illness. How long do you suffer from it?”

“Since I was a kid – I suffered from frequent nightmares. I found out that sleeping less often means I have fewer nightmares – too tired to make them up,” I shrugged. “I don't mind it though, are you aware of how many hours people lose because of a healthy sleeping schedule? I would have half the time I have now for reading and experimenting!”

“We talked with our doctors about it and they said that we should make him exhausted or force him to go to sleep, but Henry would never fall asleep if he wasn't willing. So we let him, as long as he has no issues because of lack of sleep,” mum added.

“Noted. Do you have any other… rituals?” We looked at each other for a long time.

“Are you asking me if I'm autistic? Or have a ‘simple’ OCD?”

“You are very smart, aren't you?”

“Certified genius, but that doesn't matter right now. To answer your question: I was tested because of my lack of manners and smart people obviously need some psychological problems – and I have, some, but those are not one of them. I might be obsessive, but – for example – I'm too messy and lack a need for schedules. My sleeping tendencies are proof of that.”

He had some other questions and then wanted to talk with just my parents. I put my ear on the door to listen to them. “So, what do you want to do?”

“About what?”

“He's just a child, he doesn't understand the importance of having a reputable face, especially for someone of his standing-“

“If Henry wants to have those scars, he will have scars. The end – come buddy, I bet you could use some sugar. I saw a cantine in the hall!” Dad, my saviour (he knows me too well for me to listen to them without suspicion…)!

Notes:

Am I the only one who always thought that Harry reacts too calm about being almost killed by a giant snake?

Chapter Text

“We don't want Henry to study in Hogwarts any more if this is how he gets treated – and why is a SCHOOL this dangerous?! Other parents should know too, as they maybe want to have children in a safe environment!” dad was moving from side to side in angry strides. I should have brought popcorn.

“I know this is a horrible situation, but I can assure you – it is not a yearly thing. We haven't had a similar problem since 1943, Mr Bundy.”

I heard the headmaster was addicted to lemon drops but he had a big slice of chocolate cake prepared for me, so I was happily stuffing my face since we came here, while dad tried to make the old man either shit his robes or make him cry. Either way, I was preparing for a moment when he would get serious so I could stop him. I don't want to go to another school.

“Any school would take him! I heard about Durmstrang Institute, where they teach much more interesting types of magic that I know Henry would enjoy!”

“They have worse potion course,” I argued.

“Do you need another slice?”

“Sure.” I love their shutting-me-up tactics.

“I'm sure we could even afford private tutors – not that he needs them but he does need to finish five years of compulsory education - doesn't he?”

“Yes, Mr Bundy. Although I know you have his best interests at heart, what does Henry want?”

“Another slice?” Bright blue eyes made me grin widely. It still hurt, but not as much as just a week before (I'm not even mentioning how painful my days were a month in the past, when it was fresh). “I want to stay here. Luna might get bullied again without me.”

“That's another thing! He was thrown out of his dorms and no teacher knew ANYTHING!” Luna wrote him a letter, the little snitch. She is, after all, the only one who knew the full story. Twins and Hermione thought I just finally decided not to even visit my official bedroom.

“He didn't say-“

“There must be some monitoring spells!” 

“They do exist-“

This was getting boring, but I was forbidden from wandering through the castle. Couldn't even visit my friend group (mainly finally moving and talking Hermione). Instead, I pulled out an Arithmancy book and went through the simple math used for creating spells. They were not even college-level calculations! Combining them with runes was much more interesting, but I was preparing for a boring summer. Hermione wrote to me about another vacation to Europe with her family and Arthur won a trip to Egypt for his whole family.

It meant nobody would have free time before the end of the holidays and my parents were overprotective of me so no trips on my own. This all meant one thing: time for O.W.L.s! I decided I would take all twelve possible options just to give myself a slight challenge. I managed to get a date for my exams through the post (Gallileo was happy about so many trips – because those meant treats).

“Henry, would you agree to resorting?”

“Hm?”

“If you would like to go to a different house, I’m sure Minerva or Severus would kill for you in their house,” the old man smiled kindly.

“I can't leave Luna alone, Dumbledore. Those fuckers would get nasty again if I weren't there to fuck them up again.”

“Again?” He raised his fluffy white eyebrow. I shut up my big mouth and looked elsewhere. Fucking hell. “Would you be willing if Ms Lovegood was resorted too?”

“I doubt she would be, that cunt is too much of a Raven for her own good.”

“If you want anytime to change this decision, then let me know. Please.”

“Ok, ok. If you care so much, then sure.”

***

I knew that lounging in the living room was a bad idea. A tennis ball flew millimetres from my nose and broke a vase filled with water and fresh flowers dad bought mum yesterday, like any other Wednesday. I never understood why he does that, to be honest.

“Mom will kill us!” Ludvik shrieked, as he was the one who was supposed to catch the ball. Fridrich and my younger brother looked at me with pleading eyes. 

“I have an exam to study for-“ I tried to get out of it, but I was interrupted by Fridrich: “You are going nowhere – you are our accomplice!” He grinned, too happy about our situation.

“I don’t wanna!”

“Charm her with your puppy-eye spell, oh great wizard!” Ludvik jumped and landed next to me on the couch. He got bigger during our months apart, but not as much as Elizabeth who was nearing her worst, puberty-filled years. I lived through one hormonal sister, I fear I won’t survive the second one.

“I don’t have puppy eyes,” I rolled the forementioned and put the charms book away – fully aware they won’t allow me to continue.

“You do, and they WORK. So, go say sorry to mum!”

“Go fuck yourselves, I’m not taking this blame!”

“Come on, be a good sport!” Fridrich came from behind and started to rub his knuckles on my head – but it wasn’t even half as bad as when he did it last time. Everyone put less strength in their punches, especially if they were near my head (and mainly the left side of it).

“I’m terrible at sports,” I muttered and tried to get away, but Ludvik climbed up on me. “You’re too heavy,” I huffed in discomfort.

“I think you are just too weak, brother of mine,” he grinned wider.

“Fuck you, you too and especially both of you!” I breathed in, out and calmed down enough not to hiss. “I can try and repair it.”

“You can do that?”

“Are you aware that it’s the opposite of explosion, right?”

“Like I said – I can try. Can’t use a wand, that's why I’m not sure if I’m capable of doing it.”

“You can do it, mighty wizard!” They chanted silently, while I was trying to coerce my magic into doing something so much against its nature.

Most of my accidental magic was volatile since I can remember – similarly to my temperament. The first one my parents lived through happened maybe a week into me living with them. Like a normal child, I woke up in the middle of the night but not from hunger or full nappie (I remember that day only slightly, toddler memory slips even my great mind – but I know for sure I dreamed of green light and female scream.). Mother says my scream broke the clock, picture-frames and toys levitated all over Fridrich’s room I used to share with him.

The first one that I fully remember happened in kindergarten, when a kid stole my favourite pencil. It was soft lead so I needn't strain my little weak hands too much when drawing. It was pale yellow and in hands of that bastard it looked so small (he was maybe twice my size). A small army of pencils went into the attack with their main enemy being the face of a young bully that almost lost an eye at his young age (we would be matching now – what a horrible thought). That day, I promised dad I would try to control myself (I was forced and then bribed with too much chocolate).

After a lot of thinking about Reparo later, I had a vase in my hands. It looked like I glued it together, but it wasn’t – my magic made it solid. The connections were shimmering green, which complimented the turquoise porcelain well – but it was so obvious it was repaired!

“Fucking hell…”

“It looks cooler now!” Ludvik tried to cheer me up.

“It’s obvious you broke it,” I threw it back and only the sharp instincts of an athlete saved the butchered repair job.

“I bet mum might like it, it really looks cool.” And then he ran away, with me on his heels.

“Don’t show her you fucking bastard!”

“What do you have to show me, sweetheart?” Mum rose her eyes from her novel and smiled at us.

“Ludvik and Fridrich broke it,” I blurted out to save myself.

“And Henrietta repaired it!”

“Really?” she took her favourite vase and turned it around. Will she be mad at them or me? “It’s very pretty, Henry. Have you heard about kintsugi?”

“It sounds Asian.”

“Yes, it’s a Japanese art that repairs broken pottery with gold – it’s also called the art of precious scars. It shows that broken doesn’t mean useless or less valuable,” her smile widened and she drew me into a hug.

“You should stop reading those magazines, they rot your brain.”

“This is a warm moment, Henry James Bundy-Potter! Don’t ruin it for me!”

***

After a lot of pleading, dad took me to the Ministry where my tests took place. Beanie and a medical face mask covered most of my recognisable features, mainly the lightning bolt scar. I thought the beanie was enough but mum manhandled me into something more covering. At least the semi-formal outfit was comfortable – I would prefer one more layer called labcoat but what can I do against an aggressive mother of mine?

“Please, show me your wand and state why you are visiting the Ministry today?”

“My name is Henry Bundy. I came to do my OWLs testing, and dad is here as a bodyguard slash escort.”

“T-the-“

“Yes, here is my wand,” I resisted an urge to poke him with it. “Cunt,” I muttered when he went red and stuttered over words when he gave it back. “I hate these fucking people,” I moaned when we finally could continue into the testing room.

I chose an option for overachievers when all written tests are in one day and the next day would be filled with practical exams. I was not worried in the slightest, although that couldn’t be said about the rest of the room. I expected few other smart underage wizards, but they were adults.

“Did you get lost?” One witch asked me with a kind smile. I sneered in retaliation.

“Do I look like a dumb child, bitch? I’m not the one who needs to take OWLs in their late thirties.”

“I’m sorry,” dad dragged me back by the collar of my shirt. “He’s a little strung up in stress.” I’m not stressed! She’s just an unbelievable fucking cunt!

“Understandable – is he here to get tested?”

“Yes, I am.” I hate when people talk over me like I’m not even there. It’s not like I’m easily overlooked, I was just a little shorter than the witch in front of me!

“Well, good luck then!” Big smile, condescending pat on the shoulder and attempted murder. That last one was me, but dad cut that idea short in its budding.

“Try to remain calm, they might throw you out and you don’t want that, do you?”

“I hate stupid adults,” I muttered and let him push me into a seat. In front of me, a quill laid on the table next to a stack of papers. There were rules written on it together with a questionnaire asking about my age, how well I think I might do, if this was my first testing if I already have OWLs or even NEWTs…

“Have a nice testing, Henry. I will be working in the café across from the ministry, ok?”

“Sure, disgusting coffee drinker,” I waved him off, already reading through the papers on the table. Twenty minutes into my vein-ripping boredom the testing started. As soon as I finished one test, another one would appear in front of me – if I opened it, I couldn't walk away so any bathroom break was taken between them. I took two, after every fourth test. People around me broke into tears and didn’t even have more than ONE.

I still finished as one of the fastest.

On the way out, I went to a table that was labelled as The Head of Testing. “Hello, may I get a date for NEWT testing, sometime next month?”

The witch behind the table looked at me with a shocked expression. “What?”

“I said I want a fucking date for NEWTs testing. I should get results from my OWLs in fourteen days, so I guess that three weeks from now should suffice?”

“You don’t need to take them so soon – the levels are marginally different!”

“Well, this shit-fest was so simple I think I should manage at least in… four subjects.”

“… “ she sighed. “I will make you a reservation, but you can terminate at any time!”

“Sure.”

“So, which subjects?”

“Potions, Herbology, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy – I need a little more time for Transfiguration, Charms and DADA. I know the theory, but my practical is not O level.”

“And your name?”

“Henry Bundy.”

“T-the-“

I hate people.

The next day I came for the practical part – only half of yesterday ‘class’ came too. They must have a different date for this part – I doubt they could fail that spectacularly. No one can be that stupid… right?

I conversed about Runes and how I personally use them on clothing – the person talking with me made me show him one of my labcoats that I brought for the Potion Exam. I made this one especially for a formal setting so it was never-before worn and I embroidered it with my best ability. They asked me to make a simple protection circle so I used one of my favourite ones – it was slightly more complex than a standard one but teachers love over-achievers.

Arithmancy exam was another discussion, this time about math (that wasn’t part of OWLs level of difficulty but who cares). Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Herbology, History and Muggle Studies were about the same simplicity, with childishly primitive practicals. I hoped that at least Herbology would be a challenge, but I was forced to wait until Charms.

They were still easy but I needed to give it my full attention. I managed to animate figures, make them sing and dance at the same time and then did some other charms. I passed without an issue and continued to DADA. That was harder and without twins and Slytherins, I wouldn’t be prepared.

I was glad that it ended and not only because next were Potions. Labcoat on my shoulders and the familiar smell of potion ingredients made me grin and I brewed with an extra showing off. I pulled every trick under my sleeve so I finished half an hour sooner. Perfect colour, smell and smoke – I did this exam with two other people and only one of them managed to finish with a cauldron in one piece.

Transfiguration was as fun as usual, even though Minerva wasn’t the one talking about gruesome transfiguration topics like if mice turned into a goblet can feel being filled with acid. I wonder if morbid tendencies are part of being a Master in this subject – Tom told me that Dumbledore was the one who taught it before Minerva. I need to find out if he’s fucked up too! What an exciting experiment!

***

While absorbing more knowledge for a perfect NEWTs grade, I needed something to distract me and a book about magical eyes was too good to pass on. I worry I scared Burkes with my gushing about how great he is after he told me that he finally found it in an American auction around the start of the summer. He used my money to bid for it, but I still couldn’t stop my pen from making him sound better and smarter than he is. Well, what can I say? I like a capable man.

The runes used on magical prosthetic eye were difficult, but the application was far worse. Specialized workers in labs use magical needles to carve the runes into a glass surface and they are so small and delicate that they are invisible. The potion for making the eye itself invincible was an easy one (at least for my level) so that wasn’t too interesting.

I’m sure making my own magical eye would give me additional points, right? Is that a good excuse to do it? Even if it is a horrible excuse, I already bought an extra eyeball and started to practice my accuracy with a needle and my new magnetising glasses for jewellers were coming to me. I found out that using my magic instead of clunky fingers made this process easier – I looked into robots that specialize in tiny tasks but I worry I can’t make a medical-grade robot (but it did rekindle my interest in robotics).

After I celebrated my thirteenth birthday I had a week before my second exams of the summer holidays. I slept maybe three hours that week and took a nap before the exams themselves, so my eyebags were less noticeable than they were usually. Good thing my formal pants were comfy enough for me to catch a snooze after the written part of the exam! I had it with only three other people who all looked at me like I was an animal in ZOO. I hissed at them before falling asleep on my arms.

 “Mr Bundy-Potter, are you feeling well?” asked me my examiner in Ancient Runes.

“Yes, just a tad bit tired,” I tried to rub the sleep out of my eye. She asked me many questions and let me go wild on a blackboard – and wild I went. It was covered in chalk, together with my hands and sleeves that I used instead of a sponge. It started as simple preservation runes, then she asked me something about refrigeration and I made an equivalent of a fully functioning fridge, muggle style, but with magic. There is something like this, called a cooling cabinet, but my creation was far more effective and anything in it could survive a war. “That went off the rails,” I cackled shortly.

“Good job, Mr Bundy – you show excellent knowledge and creativity with runes. So you have some creation you prepared especially for this exam?”

“I re-created an Auror-grade magical eye,” I shrugged with mad glee when her mouth opened.

“And does it work?”

I abstained from confirming that yes, it works and plopped my fake eye out. She turned slightly green so I for once turned on my decency and cleaned it off on my pants. I will need to use my basic prosthetic eye after such a harsh treatment but it was worth it.

She pulled a monocle out of her breast pocket and looked at it from multiple angles, meanwhile I popped in another eye. It was boring when I couldn’t see the flow of magic around me at all times. I picked different runes from the basic Auror eye, not interested in seeing through walls and more importantly, clothing. I preferred my new thermal vision. It couldn’t look behind me because it was restricted in my socket but even I can’t see an advantage in having a complex contraption on my head just to hold an eye in. This was much more discrete. There are already newspapers with words about my scaring, no need to also talk about a missing eye.

***

Harry Potter, now called Henry Bundy, has evaded the wizarding world for most of his childhood. He was raised by a simple muggle family and has four siblings that are all muggle. Although not many could believe it, our young saviour was not damaged by his normal and humble upbringing – this reporter was told that just a month ago the young Potter heir came to OWL exams with his father, face and hair covered by clothing uncommon even for muggles.

My source said he was a stressed little boy but the Boy-Who-Lived showed why he managed to survive that night and became the youngest holder of twelve OWLs and not even a month later he came back for NEWTs in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Potions and Herbology! As I was as curious as you are, dear reader, I looked into his history and found out that our young hero is anything but a simple muggle raised!

And it continued, talking about my speed-run of basic schooling, how well I do in Hogwarts and even pulled out some of my essays. Somehow.

I think I found a new nemesis! (I burned her trashy writing just like I burned Lockart’s).

Chapter 18: Too young to suck face

Chapter Text

Luna slept over at my house the last two days of the summer holidays because her dad went to Africa for a research filled trip. I can appreciate that – he promised me that he shall send me his raw documents so I have a better idea what his daughter studies and always talks about. I read their magazine, The Quibbler, but I need harsh facts.

We managed to visit the zoo with all of my siblings and mum in the tow – Luna never been to one, so I became her information machine that spits out facts after a minute of (unwilling) excited shaking. My arm felt numb after half an hour and I debated about how much would I miss it. At least I learned an important lection: don’t get Loona excited. The end. (I fucked up just an hour later when I forgot to take her a different route than through a gift shop on the way out – that’s how she ended up with a preemptive birthday gift.)

1st of September landed on a Tuesday this year so all my siblings were already in school when mum and dad took us to the train station – they wanted to make me wear the mask and beanie, but Luna told them that no wizards go through the magical barrier – well, most of them don’t, but I kept silent. Better than itchy forehead in the slight heat of English summer.

“If anything happens, write us or go bully Dumbledore into getting you home, ok Henry?”

“Sure, sure.” Sure not.

“Try to stay out of trouble, sweetheart,” mother added and I stilled in her warm hug. It has the potential of comfort, but unwanted physical contact will never cease to disgust me.

“Get off me you bitch!” They took off after only a little fussing, as dad was already late to work. “See you too soon!”

“Have a nice school year, children!”

I waited only a short while before quickly pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a spark of controlled magic. I slept an hour longer than I expected so there was no time to fill my lungs with the damaging smoke in the early morning. “I wonder how they still haven’t found out,” Luna giggled and hugged her giant sea lion plushie closer to her chest. It looked like a morbidly obese animal, with big black eyes that in the night stared deep into my soul when I sat on the windowsill and read a book with my addiction between my lips. The only redeeming quality was how soft the plushie was – the perfect pillow if you ask me.

“I either smoke when they are sleeping or it blends in with smoke that already emanates from my room,” I shrugged and tried to be as quick as I could – we told Hermione over the phone that we would wait for her and I have no doubt her parents would snitch on me without a second thought. And good thing I hurried, because if Luna hasn’t hissed at me ‘they are already here’, they would catch me red-handed.

“Henry! Luna! It’s so good to see you,” the bushy-haired girl attacked us but caught only Luna in her bone-crushing hug. “How was your summer?”

“Great, daddy helped me understand mum’s books about runes and wardings, co I can keep up with you!”

“Fucking boooooooooooooooring!” I groaned and almost fell when she caught me off-guard and tackled me. “Fucking hell, are you trying to kill me?!”

“Missed you too, asshole,” she muttered lowly enough so her parents couldn’t hear how well I ruined their proper little girl. “Goodbye, mum, dad! See you during the holidays!” The Grangers hugged and said their good-bye’s like, four times, before going away.

“Did they bully you because of the accident too?”

“No, I… haven’t told them,” she turned red.

“Why?”

“They almost pulled me out of the school when I told them about the petrifications during Christmas Holiday – they would never let me go back,” she frowned but went with her trunk through the magical barrier. There weren’t many people on the platform which I appreciated greatly.

“Dad almost threw a fit and sent me to Durmstrang, but I didn’t let him.” I helped Luna with her trunk and then Hermione's, mine was shrunk and safely stashed in one of my many pockets. We went to a compartment we usually occupied but there was a man with scars making his face remarkable – the rest of him paled in comparison.

“Should we go elsewhere?”

“Twins need to find us, don’t they?” Luna fell on her ass next to the sleeping men and pressed her plushie between them.

“I bet there are better ways than annoying a teacher,” Hermione crossed her arms but I was already levitating her trunk up.

“We can move later,” I tried to calm her down and took the seat next to the window, across the strange man. Professor R. J. Lupin was written on the trunk above his head so I guessed that was him – there was only a small chance that he stole the suitcase and forgot to change the engraving.

“Does it still hurt?” Hermione sat next to me. “The scar.”

“I know what you mean, I’m not fucking idiot. And it doesn’t – if I’m not rubbing it like I’m trying to make it produce something.” I finished it with mimicking jerking off which made her put elbow between my ribs. “Now it hurts,” I faked a pained cry and then honestly huffed when she hit me, this time in the shoulder with her fist.

“You’re such a jerk!”

“Thanks, cunt.”

“So, what did you do during the summer besides studying?”

“I was dragged through a zoo by a small blond demon.”

“And I dragged a walking and talking book trough a zoo! How about you, Hermione?” Hermione giggled at our perfectly synchronized answers.

“We went to France again, for two weeks, but then we travelled on the western coast of Europe – through Luxemburg, Belgium, Netherland and we finished in Germany. We were on a tour in a chocolate factory – you would go mad there, Henry! It smelled so good I got dizzy!”

“Oh, you are sweet Hermione, but I’m already batshit crazy.”

“Hahaha,” she rolled her eyes. “I visited a magical alley in the Netherlands – thankfully they had books in English because I was going crazy with curiosity about their type of magical practices! Did you know everyone has a personalized wand, unlike we who pick wands?” We listened to her talking before the Griffindor was shut up by more lions who tried to walk into the compartment at the same time. They couldn’t fit so they tried to bicker and play-fought who would have the privilege of getting to pick a seat – Hermione hissed at them to stop acting like children and after salutes, they sat on opposite sides.

“Hello, friends! How are we doing? Who is our mysterious new friend?”

“Professor Lupin, probably a new DADA teacher for this year.”

“And we are sharing with him because…?”

“We wanted to wait for you and then get another one - but someone took their time.”

“Mum was herding us quite soon,”

“-But we got delayed. Sorry. And yes, everything is full now.”

“Sorry.”

“He managed to sleep through enough time of our not-so-silent conversation, so I doubt he will stop his nap because of two gingers,” I stretched and took a more comfortable position. “How was Egypt?”

The conversation went from topic to topic like usually and we managed to get to the topic of OWLs. I forgot twins are in the usual age range to take them, to be honest. “They are fucking stupid, to be honest. I almost fell asleep while filling out the forms – the practicals are slightly harder in Charms, DADA and Transfiguration, but nothing you won’t be able to do.”

“Take a step backwards, raven – you took the OWLs during the summer?”

“Yes, together with NEWTs in four subjects.”

“Why haven’t you written about it to us?”

“It’s not important – and it was in the Daily Prophet.“

“We were out of the country, asshole!”

“Me too – you could have said something sooner. Haven’t you plan it for the summer before the fourth year?”

“Yeah, but I had longer holidays than expected and I was so bored – mum watched me like a hawk any time I tried to sneak out of the house.”

“Because of wizards?”

“Probably – they were just disgustingly protective- why are we slowing down? We have quite a few minutes before us…” I furrowed my brows and pushed my face to the window to see better through the rain and darkness outside the train. The wind was getting louder the slower we moved until we stopped. Fred and George looked into the corridors and talked with someone from the nearest compartment – they too didn’t have an idea why we stopped. Many students tried to get the unexisting information but no one knew anything.

Like usually.

I was preparing to shake the professor into action (he should know something, right?) when all lights went out and the train was plunged into total darkness.

“What the fuck?” I groned and lit up a Lumos on the end of my quickly pulled out wand.

“Do you think we’ve broken down?” George asked, squinting into the light.

“No fucking idea.” The area was getting colder.

“We should go ask the driver what’s going on-“ Hermione tried to get up but the space was filled with four pairs of long legs so she fell on Luna, who shrieked in shock, which woke up the professor across me.

“Quiet!” hoarse voice shut their squealing of embarrassment. “Stay here, I will–“ Before he could get to the door, they opened on their own, slowly. A figure in cloak hid its greyish, slimy-looking hand after the door was fully opened. I felt its eyes on me and even my mind telling me that this was a dementor couldn’t stop me from hearing a loud scream and seeing flashes of green. My body tried to faint but my magic roared like a fire hungry for a new fuel so it can burn brighter and reach higher.

Thankfully, before it managed to damage the train, the professor pulled out his wand and yelled “Patronus!” A bright light emanated from his wand and pushed the creature out of our compartment – and then he shut the door closed after himself, probably making sure no student would lose a soul. Most Ravens already lost what one might call A SOUL, I should have told him that.

I couldn’t help but giggle at that thought.

Only minutes later the man came back with a small smile on his scarred face. “Everything should be good now, we are starting to move.” He took down his suitcase after weaving through the maze of limbs and pulled out a giant slab of chocolate. “Here, it’s good for nerves.”

“What was that-“ Hermione tried to decline and get answers, but he pushed the mound of sweet delicious goodness into her hands.

“It will help, trust me.”

“I will eat it if you don’t want to,” I leaned on her, hands already vacant. “And they were dementors, soul-sucking wardens of Azkaban.”

“Why were they here?!” she squeaked and got a handful of chocolate straight into her mouth – courtesy of Luna.

“They were looking for Sirius Black,” Lupin answered. “He escaped Azkaban a few weeks back.”

“Why are they looking for him here?” Fred raised an eyebrow at the older male, his usually pale face ghostly under the freckles.

“Wouldn’t I like to know…” Lupin muttered. Harry crawled out from under the seats and jumped on Hermione’s lap which calmed her down noticeably.

“So, are you a new DADA teacher?” I asked him.

“Yes. Lupin, Remus Lupin,” he smiled and nodded at us all. “And you are?”

“Luna Lovegood.”

“Goerge Weasley, the handsome-er brother.”

“Fred Weasley, the smarter brother who knows that handsomer is not a word.”

“Hermione Granger, nice to meet you, professor.”

“Bond, James Bond.”

“And this is Henry – don’t confuse it with Harry, that’s my cat here.”

***

Dad yelled at the headmaster so much the old man gave us our own little dorm room – just for the two of us. Luna told me that she knew that her letter would have this outcome but I refuse to believe her. How could she manipulate the two old farts into doing as she wanted? Compulsion might work on dad, but the headmaster is too strong for that – and I’m not even sure if she can make compulsion spells! Twins and Hermione sent us letters during the holidays, filled with crying emojis and hundreds of words about how unfair this is – I have a feeling my bed won’t be just mine.

I fell into the first truly safe bed I slept in since the first day in this fucking school and groaned in comfort. So soft… I slept last night but I felt more tired than in a long time – probably because of those dementors that will now patrol around the school the whole year. I still have no fucking idea why a mass murderer would go hide in a school – there are many victims (let’s try to pretend I never thought about that) but he can’t have much magic after a long time behind bars, under magic-suppressing wards.

Maybe he uses potions? If yes, he must know that Severus has stores filled with decent materials for students and stealing in school is always easier than stealing in a store. I wonder if wizards have bombs…

I heard a cry from afar – I got out of the bed and walk out, quickly. It sounded female, so Luna must have done something stupid and hurt herself. I went through our shared living room that was decorated with blue and bronze, similarly to Ravenclaw common room. The fire was happily crackling in the fireplace and I couldn’t help myself and look into its crimson depths. I really, really like fire.

Then I shook my head and went to Luna’s room that was on the opposite side of the circular room from mine. I didn’t bother with knocking and walked into there with all the confidence of an owner of the room - but there was no pale blond in front of me. No bed with a cuddly sea lion plushie sat atop of it.

I was in a room with pale blue walls and dark-wood furniture. Toys of many shapes and sizes littered the floor but one thing was prominent – a broken cradle. I walked nearer to it, distant memory itching but not willing to show me what it holds, which made me worried. “Luna? Where are you?” I stood up, not remembering getting a hold of a long stick that was cold in my hand – and surprisingly big. I could wrap my fingers around it – I could barely stretch them around half of its girth (oh, sex jokes…). I looked at it for a concerningly long time, before turning around.

“Not Harry, not Harry!” A female voice cried again. What? Why not Harry? What is that fucking cat doing here?

“Move, mudblood!”

“Not Harry, no, please, kill me but not my baby!”

“I said move!”

“No!”

“Last time-“

“Don’t kill my-“

“Avada Kedavra!” A green light blinded me, making me back up, back up, before I hit something hard and cold – I turned around and looked into a huge mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth-

Chapter 19: A Fear of Blonds?

Chapter Text

„I just don't believe in those creatures,“ whispered Hermione when Luna went to potion class. Twins were walking with us, as they had DADA on the same floor as we had Arithmancy.

„Come on, you believe that Henry has feelings – you should believe in things less unreal than that!“ George’s face split in a blinding smile – I couldn’t even yell at him, my mood ruined by the nightmare. I hate sleep.

“Fuck you,” I muttered what they expected from me and hoped they would say nothing more about it.

“What, did some of your experiments blow up without you wanting them to do that?” asked Fred with a small smile and jabbed a finger into my side. I hissed at him. “Got it, not willing to talk about it now.” More like ever. “Will you help us study for the OWLs? I forgot to ask yesterday.”

“Sure, if you want.”

“I might try too, just to see if I can catch up,” Hermione smiled and threaded her hand under my elbow. “I’m already a year ahead in reading material, but I’m not sure if I could get O’s – and I want at least most of my grades to be O. You got all twelve O’s and in NEWTs too, right?”

“Do I look like a common pleb with Es?” I snorted arrogantly. “I even got bonus points in Potions, Runes and Transfiguration for my ingenuity.”

“And when shall you take the rest of your planned NEWTs?”

“I scheduled it for the Christmas Holidays, but I shall reschedule it for the summer if my practical capabilities won’t rise to the level I want them on.”

“Let’s hope Lupin will end up as a good teacher, that would help with everything.”

“Oh, brother of mine, do you think – after so many years?” George leaned on his calmer brother with fake tears welling up in his eyes. “Good teacher? Don’t tease me with words so positive!” He hiccuped and then almost fell when Fred pushed him off of himself.

“Asshole.”

“Love you too, less handsome brother!” I couldn’t help but smile slightly. What a pair of idiots.

“Have fun,” I grinned at them and threw a potion bottle at Fred who caught it thanks to his usual sharp instincts. He pulled the cork out and sniffed it lightly. “Into liquid?”

“That would be the best.”

“Which colour?”

“Weasley red,” my grin widened, my mood better than in the early morning when I tried to drown my memory of the nightmare in the shower.

“You have DADA tomorrow, right?” I nodded. “If he looks like a Weasley, he was good – if he looks like a Smurf, he was horrible,” he pulled out his own vial. We exchanged wide grins and turned in the directions of our individual classes. What an exciting start of the year, right?

***

We arrived in the staff room, baffled by what was going on. Lupin told us that he wanted the introductory lection to be practical and that even though Riddiculus was a third-year spell, he knew we never tried it on a real Boggart with Quirrel.

I was curious what would be my greatest fear – I had no idea what it could be. Maybe a basilisk? Or the diary? Dead George, Hermione, Luna… Henry? Anyone else who I care about? Or would it be something different, something my subconscious mind knows but I would never think about? “Stand in a line, you will go one after another!”

I ended up in the approximate middle, with George behind me. “What do you think?” I asked him when Angelina made a scary-looking mermaid that swam in the air into a fish that flopped on the floor like… well, fish out of water. “Do you know what will appear for you?”

“No idea, Forge,” he muttered. “But we can make anything hilarious, so it shouldn’t be an issue. Right?”

“Let’s hope our genius hasn’t left us.”

“Henry DID leave us!” We giggled together behind our hands – people ignored us, this type of acting is after all usual for us. When it was finally my turn, I was calm and had a smile on my face when I faced a vampire with plastic teeth. It looked me in the eyes and changed into Henry. It screamed bloody murder, face contorted in pain because half of it was melting off – the longer I looked the worse it was. It looked horrid, but I managed to stutter out the spell and the scene changed into a dancing, singing Henry with a wide smile on his scarred face, headbanging into music only he could hear. His movement made some people snicker (and some shriek, because it reminded them of the ‘Burning Day’). Lupin was smiling, if only slightly.

George went after me, but he saw a picture similar to what I saw. I felt bad that Ginny wasn’t part of my worst fear. “Mr and Mr Weasley, could you please stay behind?” Lupin asked us softly and we agreed – after all, we need to make his hair ginger after lessons so good. We went to his office for the secretive talk.

“You want to ask-“

“-about our Boggarts, right?”

He laughed shortly. “It wasn’t difficult to guess that, eh?”

“We are just good,” George smirked and puffed out his chest, so I rolled my eyes.

“Why do you want to know, professor?”

“I knew his… parents before he was adopted. I looked for him for years but there was no Harry Potter to be found.”

“Why didn’t you talk to him?” Both of us were surprised – why didn’t he say something yesterday?

“It was a difficult day and situation – I plan on introducing myself tomorrow after his lesson finishes.” I hope so for his own good because if he says nothing, my mouth runs wild. “Was that real? The scene?”

“Yes but we promised not to talk about it to people we don’t know – headmaster doesn’t want it to spread into newspapers and magazines. Ask Henry, he’s the only one who wouldn’t be sued by his father.”

“Duly noted. And thank you, especially for the potion. Will I turn green?”

“Flee,”

“Flee,”

“-We were discovered!”

***

An unknown owl flew onto my table and offered its stupid leg to me. I refused and stared it in its blank, unintelligent eyes. It made a hissing sound I mirrored, but made better and much more snakey – it wasn’t happy with me and hopped to Hermione, who was choking on a sip of MY TEA. Die, heathen, stealer of tea!

“Thank you, have a bacon,” she managed to cough out at the featherhead and took the letter. I let her open it. “It’s a response from Flamel. Isn’t it a touch late?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t even expecting one to be honest.”

“Why? You gave them a one of a kind stone their life depends on and you expected nothing?”

“I doubt they would give me their knowledge of alchemy for a stupid piece of rock.”

“It’s the Philosophers Stone! It can change metals into gold!”

“I have enough gold in my vault. Gimme the letter.”

“It also makes the immortality potion.”

“I know,” I ripped the piece of parchment from her fingers and scanned the text. What horrible writing… I know – pot, meet kettle. Also, it was written in some code based on runes. No thanks for sending him the stone, just a puzzle and I grew excited. My acquaintance with most of the runes was non-existent but that only heightened my enthusiasm. But what if the runes were just a distraction and he wanted me to read something else, something hidden? Or do I need to use a spell to open it?

“What did he write?”

“A love letter, I believe.” I put the letter in a pocket hidden on the inner side of my lab coat.

“Henry!”

“Let’s go, I was asked to come to Herbology a little sooner. And the DADA classroom is quite a walk away.”

“I’m excited about Lupin – after all, he’s still ginger. Do you think he will start with Boggarts like in the older years? I would think so, especially as Ridikulus is a third-year spell. I worry I won’t be able to create a hilarious picture, though. I think I might see something like a… T on a test or something! How can I make that funny?”

“You can burn it,” I offered.

“That’s not funny!”

“For you – have you ever seen a teacher after you make a fire in the classroom?”

“Only when YOU made one on the courtyard,” she smiled widely.

“See? Funny.” She giggled at that and waved at me when we went our separate ways. Susan and Hannah caught up to me a bit after that.

“How was your summer, Henry?” Sasan smiled widely.

“Boring, how about you?”

“How are two big tests in two months boring?” Hannah raised one blond eyebrow.

“They were boring, for the most parts. Simple.”

“I have an aunt in Ministry and she told me you had a perfect score in every test – I told her that wasn’t surprising but she said it should be!” Susan giggled. “Will you try for any masteries?”

“After I finish all the NEWTs I want to, then I shall start on them.”

“Will you be our partner in herbology?” Hannah tried to use puppy eyes on me.

“I have a feeling Sprout has a different plan for me, but if I continue normal school work then I shall join you if you wish so.”

“Have you seen Lupin? His hair is like fire in the morning sun!”

“Yes, twins slipped it into his tea,” I shrugged.

“Why? I heard he’s a great teacher!”

“Yes, if he was bad he would have blue skin.”

“What?”

“Mr Bundy! Come here!”

“See ya later, bitches. Hello Professor, what did you want?” I asked bluntly after leaving the two decent Hufflepuffs.

“I heard you already have your NEWTs from Herbology, is that right?”

“Yes.” Yesterday I was asked that in Runes and Arithmancy; Minerva talked about them too but she gave me a proposal that she can help me with practical Transfiguration every Saturday. “Why?”

“You have to go to the classes, but I can give you either extra-curricular work or something. I don’t want you to be bored – I know exactly what can a bored mind do, especially when that mind knows the Weasley twins.” I grinned at her widely, not even trying to act innocent.

“I want to get Mastery in Herbology, so we can work on that?”

She blinked rapidly. “Really? I expected Potions and Transfiguration, but not Herbology.”

“It’s part of Potions and I enjoy it so why not – I have two years before me. So, can I work on that?”

“Yes,” she suddenly looked ecstatic and ready to kill me with a hug. I stepped back. “Do as you wish today, next lesson I will bring you books of the appropriate level and after you go through them we can work on other things besides theory!”

“How long is it from the last student that did their Mastery under you?” I couldn’t help but ask, tone bland as was common for me but she was fucking shining.

“Fifteen years!”

***

“Riddikulus!” said the class together. This is ridiculous, are we some type of (bad) choir?

“Good,” said Professor Lupin. “Very good. But that was the easy part, I’m afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville.” The boy looked ready to fie on the spot, still scarred from the brief interaction with obviously annoyed Severus – he was reading something, I wonder if it’s a book for our weekly discussion? “Right, Neville,” said Professor Lupin. “First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?” He squeaked like a mouse but nothing human-sounding came out of him.

“Didn’t catch that, Neville, sorry,” said the professor with a small smile.

“Professor Snape,” he whispered and I laughed with the rest of Ravens and some Hufflepuffs.

“Professor Snape . . . hmmm . . . Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?”

“Er — yes,” said Neville nervously. “But — I don’t want the boggart to turn into her either.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me,” said the grinning professor. “I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?”

“Well . . . always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress . . . green, normally . . . and sometimes a fox-fur scarf.”

“And a handbag?”

“A big red one,” said Neville.

“Right then,” said Professor Lupin. “Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind’s eye?”

“Yes,” Nevile nodded and all of us were for sure interested in what the teacher is doing.

“When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape,” said Lupin. “And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry ‘Riddikulus’ — and concentrate hard on your grandmother’s clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag.” I imagined Severus in the described garb and started to cackle loudly – people made an even wider circle around me, but I couldn’t get the picture out of my head! Hat with taxidermy of a vulture is funny on itself but on the head of my minimalistic friend? I was giggling long after others stopped. The teacher was looking at me with a wide smile. Don’t be like Lockhart, don’t be like Lockhart, don’t be like Lockhart, don’t be like Lockhart…

“If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn,” said Professor Lupin. “I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical. . . .” What do I fear the most? I don’t fear Soteria, even though I am a little reluctant to visit her. Is she angry I didn’t get her help right after the fight? Is she angry I killed Tom? Is her anger getting worse because I’m procrastinating visiting her? …but what else could I fear?

“Everyone ready?” said Professor Lupin. Everyone nodded and took out their wands. “Neville, we’re going to back away and let you have a clear field, all right? I’ll call the next person forward. . . Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —” The Hufflepuff was shaking, but looked determined enough. “On the count of three, Neville! One – two – three – now!” Wand movement and sparks opened the door of a closet… but Severus wasn’t the one who came out.

“Neville! Go to the other side of the classroom, you little incapable fucker! Does this look like a place for complete idiots with a lack of brain in their big fucking heads?! Touch anything and I will chop off your hands, you cretin!”

“R-R-Rid-“

“Oh, is the little baby too much of a dumb fucker to use a simple spell?!”

“R-Riddikulus!” Neville cried and made his Boggart change out of a lab coat into clothing his grandmother probably wears on a nearly daily basis. I do look good in green… but I fear hats are not a good look on me, especially ones with stuffed animals on them. And the scarf is atrocious – what is the purpose? It looks horrendous! (If the Boggart was smart he would continue screaming and would beat Neville with that heavy-looking bag over his head!)

There was a roar of laughter and people looked mostly at me, but I was ignoring them. Did I really scar Neville so much by just one session of screaming at him? (And I wanted to see Severus in that hat!)

Others were called to the front of the class while I still had no idea what I truly fear. There were spiders, snakes, werewolves, a banshee, rodents and many others before it was my turn to ‘shine’.

I finally came to the front of the class and looked the mummy in the eyes. It looked at me too, until they changed into the familiar mismatched shades of greenish-brown. This was the second time I saw myself in the class, but I much preferred the screaming one.

My older self was sitting in a wheelchair, obviously paralyzed judging by the only minute twitches in his fingers. He had a child sitting on his leg, another one on his left side (both looked scarily similar to the paralyzed man) and the right side was occupied by a blond female in a tight skirt and loving smile. She looked at me kindly and kissed the illusion-me on the cheek and my eyes moved frantically, but there wasn’t disgust in them. “Love you, husband,” she muttered lowly but loud enough for those close to hear.

“Bombarda Maxima!”

***

“I believe that was over-reacting, Mr Bundy.”

“Fuck – I never saw something so fucking disgusting in my fucking life and felt the need to kill that fucker. So I killed it with the first fucking spell that came to my fucking mind! Fucking hell. Fuck.” I was seconds away from lightening a cigarette, my hand shook like crazy but I was restricted to the teacher's office after we left the demolished staff room. Let’s say I ended the lesson for that day – not that it bothered me. “That was the creepiest fucking thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Not a fan of blonds?” he smiled lightly – oh, you are asking for poison in your food…

“My fucking siblings are fucking blond – my fucking MOTHER is blond. So no, I’m not a fan of  fucking blonds,” I hissed out angrily. Then I went back over my words and clarified: “Neither fucking blonds nor blonds in general.” The professor laughed out loud. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I wanted to talk to you, even before the… accident. But if you want to talk about the fact that you fear having a loving family, then speak.”

“I don’t fear loving family – I hate the thought of idyll life. And being fucking paralyzed on top of that? I would turn even crazier!” He let me pace around, like a lion in a too-small cage. “What did you want to talk with me about?”

“Well, I wanted to tell you I used to know your parents very well – biological parents, to be accurate.”

“And?”

“Well, I… I feel bad that I never managed to find you after I came to Britain again. I know your new parents changed your name and it would be difficult to find you for anyone, but…” I raised an eyebrow, intrigued enough to stop my pacing. “I was a good friend of your parents and was sort of your secondary godfather. You used to call me Uncle Moony, but I fully doubt you remember that.”

“From then I just remember how my mother died – at least I think that’s that,” I shrugged. “And who was my primary godfather?” He turned slightly paler at the first sentence, the second one made it even worse. It made his scars less prominent.

“Sirius Black.”

“The one who escaped Azkaban?”

“Yes – he betrayed your parents to Voldemort, which is partially why he was sent to Azkaban. He also killed one of our friends and fourteen muggles in an explosion.”

“Explosion? Like a magical one, or based on a potion? I debated why would people expect him to go here, so I thought of one reason – which is the potion storage, filled with potential explosives if handled correctly!” He was confused and humoured – surprisingly not angry or disgusted about my enthusiasm like people usually are.

“I fear Sirius specialized more on magical means of an explosion. But your deduction is logical – people think he came here because he wants to finish his last job.”

“Which was…”

“Killing your parents and you.”

“…you have flair for the dramatics, professor.” He rolled his amber-coloured eyes. Such a unique eye colour. “Do you want me to call you uncle?”

“Call me as you wish, but only in private. Students might think I’m giving you special treatment.”

“I don’t mind, twins already think I have a boner for Minerva – Hermione says Severus is more of my type, even though neither statement is true.”

“Minerva? Severus?”

“We have a book club together with Poppy – have you ever heard about Clockwork Orange? I wonder if such psychological torture could change a person so much, even if for a little while! I guess it's kind of a Pavlovian experiment in nature… so, do you know it?”

“I heard about it, but never found the time to read it.”

“I enjoyed it, but after mother found out she strongly told me not to try to replicate anything from it. I think Severus and Minerva might find it tempting, they hate lazy students – and imagine how would they study if even thought of procrastinating would make them nauseatic!”

“I’m sure they would like that,” he smiled again – he does that a lot I noticed. “I heard they teach your favourite subjects?”

“One of my favourite subjects, to be exact. I also like Herbology, Runes, Arithmancy and would enjoy Charms if Flitwick wasn’t such a dickhead. I hate that fucking asssssshole,” I couldn’t help but hiss out. “I hope you’re a good teacher because I would like to know what it's like to enjoy a DADA class.”

“Well, I hope I am – can’t say I have many reviews! Are you going to take NEWTs in defence?”

“Of course – I wouldn’t under normal circumstances, but I need to to become a Healer.”

“Oh… you want to be a Healer? I thought you would want to be a Potion Master, or Spell Creator, or something… more creative. With much less… working with people, you know?”

“Why does everyone tell me that? I’m great with humans!”

Chapter 20: The BIGGEST sleepover

Chapter Text

I came to mine and Luna’s dorms and found too many people lazing on the couch and the floor. Luna and Fred sat next to each other on their blue perch and rose their eyes from thick tomes just to say hello to me. Hermione and George were playing chess (and Hermione was visibly frustrated because George plays with a style so chaotic, I refuse to play with him) and ignored me.

“Haven’t you learned you can only play luck-based games?” I grinned and fell in between Fred and Luna.

“He cheats at those!”

I pulled out the puzzle I got and accioed a spiral-bound notebook. It wasn’t any of the basic codes I read about in middle school when I decided to fuck with my classmates and started to code my notes. Some brave souls wanted to copy them and sometimes even managed to read my chicken-scratch – so I decided to make it even harder for them.

First, I need to decipher the runes and then it should be much easier. But I don’t know most of them – I only recognized one Old English rune and three from Celtic. I could send some of them to Burkes and let him find as many books as he can – I already read all the books in Hogwarts Library that looked into different types of runes used in warding and spell-creation.

I pushed a little bit of magic into it, because why the fuck not – and it did nothing, which excited me. It meant more work for me which is great because besides training my practical capabilities I have nothing to do at the moment.

“Why is Neville’s biggest fear you screaming at him?” asked defeated Hermione who fell on the floor near my feet.

“News travel fast,” I hummed and tried to kick her shoulder with the leg that wasn’t bent close to my chest. I couldn’t reach her, which annoyed me but didn’t put any effort into actually kicking her. “Are you excited for Care of Magical Creatures?”

“I heard Hagrid is the one who teaches it – I didn’t know he was a certified teacher.”

“He’s not, but Dumbledore gave him the position as he has a great deal of practical experience,” said Fred and put down his book. “Lee had a class with him already and said he was decent.”

“He said he was not the smartest – but COOL. He showed them hippogriffs!” George corrected his brother and crawled away to grab my music player. He turned on music and picked up his homework like all of us – we made a tradition of doing homework together. And music only made it better, even though Hermione got distracted by my instinctual headbanging. Good thing it wasn’t fucking with my speech-to-text hack!

The next day we finally had the Magical Creatures class. Hagrid took us deeper into the woods and told those who didn’t know shady book stores how to calm down their books. I found it amusing how most people were unaware that stroking the spine worked like charm – only me and Hermione had known. Stupid cunts.

A dozen hippogriffs were trotting around the clearing and I felt a need to pluck a feather or draw blood from such unusual creatures. That need made me step out of the retreating crowd when Hagrid asked if someone would like to interact with them as the first one. Hermione tried to tug me back but I was already listening to Hagrid’s instructions on how to approach them carefully.

I bowed shallowly but Hagrid forced me to bow deeper. Only after that the hippogriff I stood before bowed back, but as shallowly as I did before. Fucking hell. I went to it slowly, cautiously – I might like my scar but I would appreciate it if I could keep the other eye. With my luck, I will lose it sooner than later.

“Try to pet it!” Hagrid cheered me on so I pushed my hand into its personal space. Thankfully my hand stayed connected to my arm and the only sensation under my fingers were coarse feathers on the beasts head.

How angry would it be if I plucked a feather? I wondered before being forced on the back of the hippogriff I was petting and there was no wondering about anything else besides how to hold onto it and not die. I plucked several feathers and some of them got away from me, but I managed to stash into my pocket a good two handfuls at least.

I felt that my hair stood at almost a right angle in relation to my scalp and Hermione snickered while she attempted to help me with my new wild hairstyle. I saw some Slytherin get attacked by the hippogriff that kidnapped me from my safe place on the ground and I couldn’t help but grin when he moaned and cried fakely. Hagrid calmed the enraged beast down and only then did I get up and look at the blonds injured arm.

“Calm down,” I told him coldly and waved my wand over it to disinfect it. Another pain-filled noise escaped him so I numbed it down just to grab it so I could get a closer look. “Nothing life-threatening,” I told the whimpering blond and started to close his injury with one of the darker healing spells I learned. His magic reacted to it better than Hermione’s when I healed a cut from broken glass after she accidentally cooled her piping hot potion bottle too quickly. Her magic wasn’t helping me, but his pushed the efficiency of the spell into previously unseen heights. Our magics are probably more compatible if books about that are more than fiction.

“Thank you, Heir Bundy-Potter.” His voice was calmer and his face changed into a cold mask. I was surprised by the title he used – nobody called me that, besides goblins.

“No problem.”

“Draco Malfoy,” he offered me his not-recently-healed arm so I helped him stand up. He tried to shake it but I escaped easily and buried my hands deep into my lab coat’s pockets. “We never had the chance to speak when you were in the Slytherin Dorms.”

“Well, I never talked with anyone younger than fifth years, so that might be the issue,” I shrugged. “But I do know your surname – are you related to Lucius Malfoy?”

“Yes, that’s my father!” His chest puffed out. “How do you know him?”

“Personal reasons.”

He took it in stride. “You can come and eat at the Slytherin table anytime you want, you know? Marcus told me this morning to tell you he misses his favourite spell target and as the honorary Slytherin Heir you should spend more time with someone else than those horrible lions,” his nose scrunched up.

“There are only a few lions with redeeming qualities – just like Ravens, there are some gems. And tell Marcus not to worry, I need to train for my NEWTs so I will come sooner than later.”

“I’ll tell him,” he nodded and went to join his friends in green. People that made a ring around us went away from my scowl so I got back to Hermione without a need to curse anyone. I preferred when I was just an asshole – looked at only because I screamed at somebody and not because of my fucking name.

***

I couldn’t help myself from pacing around the girl's bathroom. Is Soteria angry at me? I’m sure she is, it took me so long to get here. She must hear me, like she heard me after that day with Lockhart – but there is no soft hissing telling me to open the tubes.

I paced quicker.

Did her eye get infected? For sure something like an infection couldn’t kill a basilisk… right? There are no papers on how magical creatures react to infections and illnesses like rabies. Can she get ticks? Or is her blood acidic enough? Or are there small magical parasites that wouldn’t be affected by such a thing? This thinking got me into an even worse state than I was before, but it made me open the entrance and I jogged to the main hall of the chamber.

“Soteria?!” I called and looked around. “Where are you?!” I looked everywhere, even going to the library even though she wouldn’t fit there. I remember Tom opened a different room, so I tried that. “Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!” The mouth of a statue of Salazar Slytherin slowly opened, but Soteria didn’t come out. I went in and used Lumos to see.

She was curled into a big spiral – her body was moving, showing she was at least breathing. She can’t be hibernating, right? It’s too warm outside (for a Scotland) for her to do that. “Soteria, are you alright?” Her reaction was non-existent, so I put a hand on her and tried to wake her up with slow strokes of her silky smooth scales. “Fucking hell, what is wrong with you?” I climbed up on her and searched where her face might be. “Soteria!” I yelled close to her face that was tucked under one loop of her body. I was close to her healthy eye so I could see minute twitches in her eyelid so I looked the other way.

I used a heating charm to help her with waking up and stayed on her, now calmer. “Little heir?” she hissed, sleep heavily present in her tone. “Do you need my help?”

“Why were you sleeping? It’s not winter – or too cold!”

“My master made it so when no one needs me, I hibernate. There is a spell on this room and only an heir can open it up when they need me.”

“But… that’s boring. And don’t you need to eat?”

“I don’t understand it, but there are stasis charms that keep me in the state I was in when I went to sleep. That’s how I lived for so long, in a way.”

“…so should I let you sleep?”

“Oh no, little heir. I like your presence – I just thought you wouldn’t want to spend time with me anymore, after what I did.”

“Forced to do. And – we match!” I tried to use my best happy grin and pointed my Lumos on my face so she could see. “Does yours still hurt? I can bring you some creams or potions or try some spells?”

“I heal quickly, little heir. I was fully healed days after our unfortunate battle. But you – how are you? I feel your eye is not fully yours.”

“It’s a magical prosthetic so I can see through it. But, I made it better and now I have a thermal vision if I look only through the magical eye. Like some breeds of snakes who see infrared sensing.”

“And what it all means, hatchling?”

How to put it simply so she understands? “I can see the temperature of things – it’s good for sensing people and other creatures, but also makes it easy to know how hot is a potion or a cooling cauldron.”

“That sounds useful. Master always burned his hands on hot tools,” her tone got softer with memories and her tail hugged me around the torso. I’m glad she’s so chill about all of this. “Are you going to visit me through the school year, little heir?”

“Yes, I enjoy your presence.” That and her coils are supremely comfortable, even though I now have a safe bed. I’m too used to sleeping around the castle.

***

Somehow, the first months of the third year were the weirdest of them all. I still enjoyed classes with Minerva and Herbology, Runes and Arithmetacy stimulated my bored mind more than History and Charms. However, my adornment for Potions was dying – in contrast, I began to enjoy DADA. Remus was a great teacher, even though some talked hushedly about his tattered robes and unkempt look. His clothes had no holes in them so I saw no problem. My lab coats were much worse and nobody told me anything. (Not even Slytherins, who tried to make me get a different haircut and to put on something else than muggle clothes under my robes and lab coat.)

Severus was getting on my nerves though. He stopped visiting our ‘book club’ and treated me like a normal student. I tried to scream some sense into him but he slammed the door in front of my fucking face. Minerva told me he needs time, but why – she never said. Not even Luna had an answer, which was unusual. What she talked about was that Halloween was coming close and the yearly disaster is near. Why is the thirty-first of October such an unlucky date? Troll, the first petrified victim – and what will happen this year? I hope for an explosion or arson, but I doubt my wishes will come true (unless I help my luck…).

“We should create something that would turn people into Halloween monsters on the feast,” I thought aloud while thinking of creative ways to harass our classmates with twins.

“But how would we do that?” Fred asked, while George grinned and excitedly started to go through my books on transfiguration.

“Probably transforming their robes, right?” he tossed an idea.

“Difficult on large scale,” argued Fred.

“We can centre on some assholes – or table, perhaps.”

“Like Ravenclaws?”

“Or teachers,” I cackled widely, my mind set on making Severus suffer for his actions. And getting Flitwick was just an added bonus.

“That would be extra hard.”

“We could make it random? Put runes on the benches and who sits there, suffers?” George stroked his non-existent beard in deep thought.

“That might be doable… I could make a template for the runes, and spells can be researched, but what monsters shall we pick?”

“Classics, like werewolves, vampires…”

“Mummies, zombies…”

“I can make some from muggle movies and books.”

“First, let's find the spells!”

Random is a strong word – I know exactly where Severus sits.

***

Chaos, wonderful chaos ruled the Great Hall after our prank took effect. I looked around and grinned at Luna, who had fairy wings on her back and her robes changed into light coloured dress suitable for a creature that dances in the moonlight. I’m sure she knew exactly where to sit.

Henry had eyes only for Snape, who was fuming with big fangs in his mouth and wolf ears in his greasy hair. They were in a bad place in their relationship and I had a feeling I know why – the professor must have realized that he befriended a child. Seeing someone break down in their mother’s arms does that to a man (I myself sometimes forget he’s the second youngest in our group). I wonder if Henry knows – or even suspects. I would tell him, but I don’t want him to kill the potion master for his ‘idiocy’.

I myself kept human charms, but George changed into a weird character with a mask over his face. One of the monsters Henry made. The mask had holes in it and three red marks, strapped to him by leather straps. Muggle-borns visibly recognized him, their shrieks telling me as such. Hermione wasn’t one of the pranked but she brought cat ears and put them on – I believe she tried to force Henry to do the same but he protested loudly and harmfully so no Henritten.

What a shame.

“Weasley!” Snape fumed and came closer to us. “What is this, you imbeciles?!”

“I have no idea,”

“Professor! We just ate and talked-“

“And then Gred changed into this!” I ended and tried to look as innocent as I could. It was difficult to stop giggling when his words had a different accent thanks to his new fangs.

“We are good,”

“But not this good.”

“Pinky swear!”

He looked between us, before storming out of the Great Hall with his usual dramatic billowing robes. “Why nobody ever suspects me?” Henry asked without being much quiet. ”It’s not like I look fucking innocent or incompetent.”

“I think it’s obvious because your presence made our jokes better,”

“But people like to be ignorant. What am I, anyway?”

“Jason Voorhees, a movie character who murders promiscuous teenagers.”

“You watch horror?” Henry asked Hermione, his eyebrow high.

“Only sometimes,” she shrugged. “And he’s pretty well known. How long will the spell work?” she lowered her volume and whispered that into my ear.

“Henry said it should reverse around midnight,” I muttered under my breath.

“Pitty – I wanted to see all the costumes.”

“We have sketches if you want to look really that much. Henry said he would sleep with us, so we can go over them before going to sleep.”

“Oh, ok. Thanks, Fred.” Students enjoyed the costumes, which wasn’t our plan exactly, but it was nice to see our hard work appreciated. We drew and hid the runes for two whole nights and right now my brother and I survive only on pepper-up potions and Henry’s chocolate stocks. The crazy raven himself was only lightly sleepy, as he was the only one of us used to no sleep for so long.

“Which bed will it be this time?” George lifted his mask and grinned at the younger boy.

“I always sleep with Fred, if Hermione is not there with us. Why are you asking?”

“I thought you were angry at his… morning poking?”

“It’s natural, I just told him not to hump me next time,” he rolled his eyes, not considering my poor heart that will combust with embarrassment. Merlin, I hope nobody is listening. “You would be probably the same in that regard. And you bitch much more when I kick or bite or just hog a blanket. And when I wake up, in general.”

“My brother has a permanent scar from your ‘waking up’ – sorry that I don’t wish to be THAT similar, little raven.”

“Your loss,” Hermione elbowed him cheekily. “Eat your vegetables, Henry.”

“I already ate fuck ton of roasted potatoes, mum. With chicken, so, proteins.”

“More vitamins never hurt.”

“Fuck you, bitch. Why am I the one who you bitch about?”

“Twins eat more than one meal a day. And that one meal is never a bar of chocolate.”

“Fuck you. I drink nutrient potions if I don’t eat. A human can live off of them for a month.”

“If they need to – and it’s bad for your stomach!”

“Digestive system in general, but I eat full meals at least five times a week!”

This argument is not new, only the participants change. I had that talk with him last year, George at the start of this and now Hermione. I bet his mother screams at him often about it – or just force-feeds him. I can see that.

It gives me bad ideas.

“Let’s go to the dorms,” I encouraged them to stop arguing and dragged Henry up when he seemed like he would pout and continue with his fucks and bitches and ‘I’m right’ speeches. “Don’t know how about you, but I’m beat.”

“Yeah, I need a good sleep,” George groaned and got up too, Hermione close behind him. We left as one of the first people from our table – Ron looked like he would again be one of the last people to leave the feast. I wonder where he puts all that food. “Do you think this Halloween will be chill?”

“I expect an explosion,” Henry’s eyes shined with magic and mad excitement.

“You always wish for a fire or explosion,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I think we will know in the morning. Maybe those dementors attack some poor soul outside the castle!”

“Or the dark wizard Sirius Black kills an unsuspecting student-“ I jumped on Henry, who shrieked and fell under my weight. All of us laughed and he too smiled and lightly cackled, when I helped him to stand up.

“I wonder if he knows some fun spells.”

“Of course he does – you for sure would like that exploding charm he used on those muggles.”

“I read he fucked up the gas pipes, so that’s why it was so damaging. Either way, ten out of ten, would like to see.”

“We could try something in a smaller size, couldn’t we? You said muggles can buy a propane-butan tank, so that might simulate it enough.“

“I can buy it together with my cigarettes during the holidays. Do you think there is a book about explosive spells only? I can write to Burkes…” we discussed that during our ascend to the Griffindor tower but we were stopped by the sight of a damaged portrait.

“Fuck,” came from four mouths.

We went back to talk to the teachers – and when we met fellow lions, we told them that our dorms are blocked. They either sat on the steps or walked back with us. Percy followed us and became our spokesperson it the matter, even though his info was second-hand. He still put it more eloquently than any of us could (there was no fuck or cunt in his sentence – a big step from our usual diplomat).

Out of the yearly bad-thing-happen-on-Halloween came out the biggest sleepover anyone ever saw. All the students were in their sleeping bags in the Great Hall, usually in a group that consisted of their house, however, we were original, as was expected. Henry fell into a discussion with a group of older Slytherins about why ALL houses needed to evacuate their dorms, so our group ended up on the snake territory. George joined the conversation, while I tried to stay awake. Luna already fell asleep and she ended with a drawn-on moustache. I wish to evade that fate.

“But why would he go to Griffin’s dorms? Everybody says he’s after you,” Marcus Flint asked Henry, who was for once in his own pyjamas that Luna brought him. He usually steals what is the most comfortable – I already lost four sweaters and a pair of sleeping pants.

“Either he’s after someone else, or he’s crazy and doesn’t know I’m a raven? My parents were lions and people often think that child goes to the same house as their parents.”

“He’s crazy even if he’s not after you, Slytherin Heir.”

“Are you sad you can’t pick which bed looks the comfiest?” Adrian Pucey grinned at Henry.

“We call him the Virgin Whore of Slytherin because he slept in more beds than any other person,” snickered a female I never talked with (I only know their Quidditch players). She seemed like a sixth year, maybe even older.

“Better than The-Boy-Who-Lived,” Henry shrugged.

“At least we can say he sleeps with lions – and not just their beds,” George hummed with a sleepy smile. I giggled and some snakes joined.

More and more people fell into the kingdom of dreams so we lied down too after too many shoos and angry remarks that we laughed at. I never guessed I would enjoy snakes so much – it shouldn’t surprise me, after all, the hat gave me chance to wear green.

Even though we had all the space on the ground we needed, Henry ended up close enough to me that my sleeping form reached for its favourite teddy bear and I cuddled him mercilessly. It ended up like any other sleep-over with Henry – my wonderful bite-alarm woke me up around five in the morning.

Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Chapter Text

“How was school this week?”

“Severus was an ass the whole fucking time – we learned about werewolves, actually. Which skipped half the book, to the other ravens' annoyance. They read only a chapter or three before each class, which is fucking inefficient. I was the only one who knew the answers besides the generally known facts but I’m not talking with Severus until he acts like a normal person.”

“And besides DADA?” Remus smiled softly at his unofficial godson over a cup of tea.

“Nothing interesting I guess.”

“And besides school?”

“Fred has been helping me with finding herbs and mushrooms in the Forbidden Forest – I heard that there are some species of mushrooms there that are quite rare in the rest of the UK. We even used it in some of the experimental stuff I do as a preparation for my master's. I also went with Luna to search for Nargles, but we couldn’t find a mistletoe. She gave me this to guard me against them,” he showed Remus a bracelet with little butterbeer corks used as beads.

“That’s very kind of Miss Lovegood. And how about your preparations for NEWTs? Minerva was praising you during the whole teacher meeting last week.”

“I practised all the needed spells and then some – only DADA gives me an issue. I can’t keep my attention on that shit for more than an hour.”

“I can help if you would like.” Remus tried to wait for the raven to come to him himself but he knew when to give up – friendship with a crazy Black makes one understand that not all battles can be won with patience.

“I train Dueling with Marcus, twins and even got a few hours of training with Percy. His ass might be ripped with that stick he likes so much, but he’s a smart guy.”

“I can teach you some spells that are not expected but appreciated. Patronus, for example.”

“If you wish to – I would never say no. I’m not fucking stupid. Now?” he stood up with a grin and pulled out a simple wand. Remus would take a wild guess and say he had some hidden pocket for the wooden tool – potion master never wears wand holster like a normal wizard, as an exploding potion might ruin magic holding the wand and that never ends up well.

“We can try to start with the basics now – later we can use a boggart. Patronus works on them, to a certain level, so they are often used as ‘training wheels’ for learning Expecto Patronus. Do you know the theory?”

“The caster needs to think about their happiest memory and that gives the spell power. Then magic put into the spell either makes it a mist or a shape of an animal – the more the shapelier. The animal shape itself represents in which the caster finds comfort and safety – so if someone had a dog that always guarded them, their Patronus shall be that dog breed. This is the reason why Patronus is ever-changing, as people’s definition of safety changes.”

“Very good. Ten points to Ravenclaw.”

“I studied for the test,” he shrugged. “How do I know if a memory is happy?” A long look was exchanged between the student and a teacher. “Fuck yourself, cunt. Got it, I need to find out myself.”

“If it helps, after you learn how to cast Patronus, you don’t really need a memory – it’s the feelings you need for it. Memories are just easier to evoke than feelings.”

“Doesn’t that make it dark magic?”

“Partially, but it’s categorized as neutral, grey magic. Try to cast it – and remember, happy thoughts.” Henry’s scars distorted as he furrowed his brow in deep thought. What might someone like him understand under the term ‘a happy memory’, Lupin thought. Would it be a moment of happiness over a finished project? Maybe a win in some competition? Or would it be a memory created with his friends or family, which for sure Henry would never admit to?

Remus enjoyed talking with Henry, even though some of his personality traits hurt his soul. There was so much James in that devious spark in greenish-brown eyes, in the cruel smirk that meant problems. And that fiery red temper, something that had Lily written all over it. He didn’t have her red hair, but he had her strong vocal cords and tendency to repeat a certain word when he got irritated. Lily’s favourite curse word was cunt and her accent always got very cockney – Remus never met her parents but he heard James say that her mother had the same accent and at first he thought she was angry at him.

People often talked about the late Potters as if they were angels or saints, but that was never true. Henry was his parents' child – smart, temperamental and cruel. They would love to see him grown up, even if his scars might make them furious and sad.

A little light came from Henry’s wand. He wasn’t happy. “What is your happy memory, uncle Moony?”

“It’s not very polite to ask people that,” he told his with a soft smile. “But it’s you, so I’ll tell you. I think about nights spent in your parents home when you were slightly under a year old. Your accidental magic was uncommonly strong for a baby, but it never stopped amusing us. You liked to throw your wooden blocks and then made them come back to you. You tried to do the same with baby food, however, the viscous liquid never wanted to go back to its tormentor.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I wasn’t the first dead body on that premise…”

A burst of barking laughter filled the room – Henry pouted lightly, never happy when somebody laughed ‘at’ him. “Trust me, it was adorable.”

That’s a word I never hear connected to me.”

“I heard some girls talk differently,” Remus grinned widely, showing his sharper-than-common teeth. Henry was too busy doing retching noises to notice that.

“That’s fucking disgusting!”

“I thought you were not the type who says girls have cooties. You are friends with Hermione and Luna – and they are girls.”

“Yeah, but, not like that. Fuck. Who would want the fucking attention of some unknown girls? I hope they are not fucking stalkers...” … or creeps like Lockhart, Henry finished in his own head.

“What was the first happy memory you used if you don’t mind me asking?”

“When I burned a lot of books,” Heir Bundy-Potter grinned madly, his eyes misty and lost in a memory. “I never laughed so much before – my throat hurt after that, but it was worth it.” Remus raised his eyebrow in mute shock, although a little smile still hung on his lips. A small bitter-sweet thought in the back of his mind wondered how did Sirius managed to give his godson the Black madness. “Do you know any other person who can do Patronus and uses better memories than sappy shit?”

“I worry I know too many ‘sappy people’. Happy memories are usually sappy.”

“Fuuuuck you.”

Before Henry even knew someone was nearing the teacher’s quarters, the werewolf in the room was prepared to say come in – and he knew exactly who was going to get nasty looks from the tall thirteen-year-old. “How can I help you, Severus?”

The stoic teacher completely ignored the Potter heir and gave the fellow teacher his monthly ‘cure’. “Don’t forget to take it on an empty stomach,” he growled. He wanted to say something like: ‘Using your celebrity status to get private lessons, Potter?’ But he knew that was just his nasty personality being pissy and angry at himself – why heighten the blood pressure of someone Severus actually liked?

“Why on empty stomach?” Instead of expected screaming or growling, Henry acted like a calm human being – which was scary.

“Some ingredients can react negatively with them,” Severus deadpanned.

“I never heard of a potion that needs to be taken on an empty stomach… what ingredients would cause such a reaction?”

“I believe that would tell you what the potion is and that is a piece of personal information, Mr Bundy.”

“Oh. I thought wolfsbane reacts negatively only with sugar.” Remus grew tense, Severus only smirked. He knew Henry would figure out the secret, especially after that lesson when Severus laid it so thick even Longbottom should figure it out.

“Sugar renders it useless, but only in a bigger capacity. Any type of sugar in a small dosage just makes the potion drinker nauseous.”

“Note for myself: not get bitten. I would die without chocolate!”

“No, you would just sleep more,” snarked Snape with an eye roll.

***

Somebody woke up with a cruel finger in my cheek – a well-manicured one, sharpened into a fucking point. “Fuck of you fucking cunt,” I moaned in displeasure and batted the offending appendage off.

“It’s time for breakfast, Slytherin heir.” I opened the only eye that had an eyeball in the socket right now – I know that face but no name fits it. She wasn’t younger than me, maybe older or the same age. “Daphne Greengrass,” she pushed her cruel hand into my face so I tried to bite it out of reflex. “Nice to meet you,” she kept her nice tone even though I was chewing her hand like a rabid dog.

“Go fuck yourself,” I said with difficulty. It’s hard to talk with a hand in your mouth. Her face was black, so I licked her – which made her shriek in disgust. Finally. She’s a tough cookie.

“Likewise, mongrel. I was trying to be nice.”

“I sleep less than eat, but now you have the pleasure to accompany me to the fucking breakfast.” I attempted to make her run in her relatively tall heels, however, she struck like a snake and caught my elbow in a bruising grip. Marie and Fridrich taught me how not to flinch because of this type of manhandling.

“How are you enjoying the new classes?” Her mask was chiselled from ice, but her tone smelled of devilish plans.

“Boooring.” Auch, she should cut her pointy nails. “And you, bitch?”

“Daphne, but you can call me Daph if that’s too much for your little brain.” I stepped on her shoe and grinned when she winced. “I quite enjoy Runes – Arithmancy is interesting but pretty hard.”

“It’s simple math,” I rolled my eyes. “I might be above average in knowledge in that realm, but Hermione too knows most of the mathematical principles used in Arithmancy. What did you learn in the primary?”

“I was homeschooled.”

“By monkeys?”

“No, by magical mentors. And we never did more than simple math that you use in normal day to day life. Could you help me with some things?” So that’s why she was so annoying.

“Hermione would be better, I’m a worse teacher than fucking Severus fucking Snape.”

“Did I ask her or you?” Auch, auch, auch!

“Cut your nails, you fucking cunt! Don’t bitch if you want to kill me by the end.”

“Maybe I wasn’t taught math – but you were obviously robbed of lessons in Etiquette.” I could only cackle at that idea. I can imagine how would a professional snob look at me while I slurped down noodles or drunk soup from the plate.

She forced me to sit at the Slytherin table – almost nobody was in the Great Hall, most of the castle was still in bed or only just getting out. Twins and Hermione should arrive in an hour and nobody knows when Luna’s going to show up. Sometimes she’s up even before me, and other days I drag her out of the bed by the foot.

Daphne put a healthy breakfast on her plate and then made a small hill of typical English breakfast items on a plate that was put in front of me. “OW!” I hissed when she hit my hand.

“What about ‘thank you’?”

“Thanks, mum.” Her mouth twisted into a cruel smile, even if only for just a second or two. What a cunt. At least she let me eat with my usual ‘grace’ (read: none at all). “Why are you bullying me?” I asked after gobbling up half of my breakfast, confident she wouldn’t steal it away.

“You are a good contact in the wizarding world.”

“I’m thirteen years old without a job,” I deadpanned.

“Thirteen years old genius, Boy-Who-Lived, heir Potter and potential heir Slytherin or at least one with their gift. Yes, you are a good contact, and will get only better.”

“So you want to use me. For what?”

“I’m looking for a good partner – in life and business. And I went for the best one before the others realise.” I choked on a piece of bacon and between caughts thought how horrible it would be to die before having the chance to spit on one of my siblings’ graves. She hit my back several times and wrinkled her small nose over my almost-murderer. And half-chewed bacon that landed in front of me.

“Others? Best deal?!”

“Why do you sound so hysterical, oh mighty Slytherin heir?” George sat across me and stole my plate.

“I was barfing in that!”

“You spit it next to the plate,” Fred snorted in humour and sat next to me. “Fred Weasley,” he offered his hand to Daph and she shook it.

“Daphne Greengrass.”

“George Weasley,” the other ginger leaned over the table and did that same gesture. “What did that madman do to deserve such a charming companion?”

“She’s as charming as this fucking madman,” I snorted and kicked her under the table. She scratched my forearm, again. “She just fucking told me she would like me as a fucking partner.” My face crumpled into a hurtful cringe.

“Bethrothals and arranged marriages are common in the wizarding world – and I was given the possibility to pick so I asked. My family owns several potion ingredient shops and most of my family members are Potion Masters. You are interested in potion-making, so that’s only logical you would benefit from that. Potters are on the other hand an old house with ancient roots that my family lacks – and I want to go into politics in my future. The title of Lady Potter would give me a… head start.”

“You’re not even fucking pretty.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” George snorted. Fucking traitor! And she really isn't.

“She’s blond. And kind of looks like my sisters. Just with a witchy vibe.”

“That’s why George thinks she’s pretty,” Fred grinned. “And she is good looking. Just saying.”

“Fuck you all. You, you, and you especially, cruel bitch.”

“Just think about it – I offer partnership, the others want a husband. You know, with the crotch gremlins and all.”

“I would rather sterilize myself. The muggle way. The bloody way. Without anaesthesia.”

“There is always blood adoption – which would be my preferred way of conceiving an heir.”

“Or I can just off myself, that’s an idea.”

“Or just say no?” That one came from both Fred and George. Then George added: “Good to know that desperation-“

“-or fear-“ Fred added thoughtfully.

“-stops the fucks and bitches.”

“For the most parts.”

While they were doing their 'twin talk', I was headbanging the table, thinking that crying might be a good idea. “We are only thirteen!”

“My mother knew she would marry dad since she was eight years old. It’s a little looser now, but most want to catch the best ‘second half’ they can. I hoped you would be more logical about this.” She was frowning like I did something fucking wrong!

***

Not only was I in a horrible mood the rest of the week, but I connected the shit Daphne dumped on me and information from Remus (that some girls talked about me). Which made me paranoid when female humans talked to me about anything. People who only threw curses at me now smiled into my scarred face and never even batted an eyelash when I called them cunt, bitch, motherfucker or something else along those lines.

“I had the worssst fucking week in quite a while and you have the fucking audacity to make it even worssse you fucking motherfucking cunt?!” I screamed and threw a scalpel at Severus. He found our room, where we now mostly brew – mine and Luna’s dorms are used for the hanging-out portion of our days. (Still a good nap spot, though.)

I had a feeling that brewing outside of class was unadvised but never before had I thought that it was against the rules. Heavy sarcasm on that last part. Oh, and he found out in the worst moment –

“Don’t throw that cauldron-“ Fuck, I missed his head!

“You vanissshed my hard work you motherfucker!”

“You were swaying from side to side! And haven’t reacted at my calling!” His reflexes are good, most wouldn’t expect a rapid change to spells. Flint taught me enough so I know some strategies. Still, I managed to singe his robes.

“Do I look like I care?!” After he pulled out his wand it was a quick ending to our ‘duel’, but I wasn’t done. “Not only do you fuck up my exssperiment, you also fucked up the last few monthsss of my life becaussse of sssome for sssure ssstupid reassson you fucking prick – you act like we were never friendsss and then never even give a reassson why are you ssso – ssstupid, you, you – dunderhead!”

“You’re a CHILD, Henry! I can’t be just friends with you!”

“I’m not the one who forgot that fact, you fucking idiot! It’s your fault you are a fucking idiot!” I screamed back but still kept my magic from lashing out. I wonder why it was easier to not let it do its normal thing. “It’s not my fault I’m smart and arrogant – which is for some reason something only adults can be? Was it the – oh, it was the crying, wasn’t it?! You saw me cry once and since then you notice the fact that I don’t even have a fluff under my fucking nose? That I couldn’t get a drink at a bar, even if I fucking tried?!” The couch that was more often used as a bed almost knocked him down, but he jumped out of its way. (That was the first time my magic slipped out - and it didn't even succeed!)

I stared at him, fuming, waiting for him to say something. And he took his time, brushing off the nonexistent layer of dirt.  “I know. And I always knew, but it's easy to forget that you’re not just a baby-faced adult. No thirteen-year-old that I know can create potions that actually work,” Severus frowned deeper than I ever saw him. “Or make professional-grade rune circles. Or keep up with Poppy when she talks about recent medical discoveries. It just… hit me.”

“Unlike my cauldron.” I am still angry he was quick enough to evade that death.

“Unlike your cauldron,” he snorted. “And I’m not the only one - Minerva might hide it better as she is much more competent in human-to-human interaction, but she told me she grew a tendency to baby you.”

“She does feed me more cookies than usually…”

Chapter 22: Eggnog

Chapter Text

Hi mom,

can you send me a bottle of whisky?

Henry

---

Hello Henry,

I’m glad to hear from you after so long. How have you been? I hope there are no problems with your classmates. Is your preparation for NEWTs going smoothly?

I know you’ll tell me you don’t care but I’ll tell you anyway – Elizabeth won the drawing competition and they printed it in the newspaper, so I have it framed. It looks much better than the prices the rest of you usually get. Colourful, not dull and formal. Fridrich might think his trophies are the best looking, but who likes gold?

Dad sends his thanks for the Wicked Sisters CD; I think it’s better than the others.

Please, write again.

Love,

Mom

PS: To answer your question, no. <3

---

Mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!

PS: I’ve been good, nobody is giving me any problems – the separate dorm room helps, I think. And my preparations couldn’t go smoother. And yes, I truly don’t fucking care.

PPS: I don’t want it for drinking it, you know? I wanted to poison Flitwick as a Christmas present for myself.

Your favourite non-blood-related child,

Henry

---

Hello, my favourite non-blood-related child,

At first, I was worried you sent poor Galileo with only the MOM part, but I was delighted to read answers to my questions. Maria found your dedication to the letter ‘o’ hilarious and got a cramp from laughing so hard (she looked over my shoulder, the poor child).

Please, don’t kill your teachers. Which means no, I won’t send you any alcohol in the near future – and by that I mean until you are eighteen. And I don’t care about the fact that wizards have a different age limit. What I did pack you is non-alcoholic chocolate eggnog. I found a recipe and was interested in what you think about it, my little chocolate addict.

Love,

Mom

---

Hello Mrs Bundy,

Your eggnog is heavenly. Henry bit most of us, but we managed to get a sip or two despite that. Could you send me a recipe, please? I need leverage against Henry.

Best wishes,

Daphne Greengrass

***

It was an interesting experience to know Flint more personally and listen to Oliver dragging the big Slytherin through the mud. For once I knew what is slander and what a cruel truth – for example, I knew Flint is not stupid, he’s just an asshole who knows when to quit.

No wonder he didn’t want to play in this weather – I certainly don’t.

“…And we’ve been practising all those moves assuming we’re playing Slytherin, and instead it’s Hufflepuff, and their style’s quite different. They’ve got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory-“ Angelina, Alicia and Katie giggled, calling him tall and handsome. I heard he was one of the most popular Hufflepuffs, smart besides good looking.

“I’m sure Ginny will fly circles around him,” George one-arm hugged our little sister who turned red and stepped on his shoe. She tried out for the team and Oliver let her join with excitement. She was the best seeker we had in… well, forever. 

Still, Wood panicked and yelled at us we need to keep our focus, never relax – he forgot to say we shouldn’t get murderous tendencies towards our captain. We should prank him after the match. George looked at me and nodded – he could read me as well as I could him so he knew exactly my thoughts.

Oliver was especially difficult that training session, which we all expected. Thankfully, our best healer Henry was reading on the stands with his new friend by his side. Daphne was doing her Arithmancy homework, sometimes asking for help. She’s surprisingly adamant about the partnership she suggested – not even his great personality moved her from that stance. I understand, but I’ve always had weird tastes.

The whole team sat on the benches level above his and waited their turn to get fixed up. Scrapes, bruises, concussion or two and Angelina had a sprained wrist after a nasty throw from Oliver. That dickhead himself was already gone, fresh as a daisy. I hate him so much right now. And Henry wasn’t on a much different note, as he was in his ‘Poppy mode’ which meant he hated any unreasonable person, especially Quidditch players and their captains. 

“Is there even a fucking sliver of a fucking brain in his fucking head or does he have a fucking Quaffle in there?!”

“Some guys think with their junk, some with their Quaffle,” Katie laughed. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“In that case, I consider myself an alien,” Henry deadpanned and covered another bruise with a bit of bruise cream. “I should make more if those cunts won’t call the fucking game off. Poppy already plans on splitting the work between us two.”

“She trusts you a lot,” Daphne put down her homework and her sharp eyes showed interest.

“I work in the infirmary. Have been doing that for a while.”

“I thought you want to create – be it potions, runes or spells. You’re not very caring.”

“I can do both – and doctors are not for caring, but for curing.” Ginny winced when he squeezed her wound a little too hard. “Which is another reason why I can’t get married! I won’t have time!”

“Do I look like I would need you for more than the ceremony and occasional dinner?” she snorted. Henry hissed (probably something very nasty) and whipped his wand so hard he almost poked out George’s eye.

“We can get rid of her,” I stage-whispered. “We can be quiet and nobody would pin it on us!”

“Yeah, they would fucking pin it on ME. No thanks.”

“Henry, wouldn’t you know a water-repulsive spell?” Ginny pulled his attention to her. “If it’s supposed to rain so much, wouldn’t it be better to have some goggles?”

“It would – I can look into that. I even have safety glasses on which I can try it on. Can you get goggles?”

“My roommate has a few pairs. She wears them instead of headdresses. I think I can steal one or two!”

“Ginny, you shouldn’t steal!” George yelled at the same time as Henry grinned: “That’s the spirit!”

***

It was raining – or like Henry said: ‘the clouds were fucking pissing on us after chugging a whole fucking ocean’. Even Poppy snorted at that, before composing herself. It was quite the truthful description because I was thinking that I wouldn’t be able to see a Bludger (let alone the Snitch).

Ginny had her big bug-like goggles that they charmed to hell and back, on. I heard something about water-repelling spells, anti-breaking runes and zooming runes (which should be considered cheating, according to Hermione). She looked cute – George pinched her cheeks and cooed at her enough for us both. Her freckled cheeks were red with embarrassment but couldn’t run away – Luna was braiding her hair into a tight French braid so it wouldn’t get into my little sister’s face.

Wood fretted over us all – I wasn’t far from punching him. He told us to do well, to crush the Puffs – like usually. After coming out of the changing room, we got sopping wet before the game even started. Wood shook hands with Diggory, who had his hair plastered to his face. No goggles to be seen, which might be the reason why we win. I hope Ginny finds the golden ball quickly,

We rose to the air and started the match after Mrs Hooch blew her whistle and released all the balls we might need. It was easy to make people fall off their slick brooms – several teachers were catching them with cushioning and levitating spells. I felt spikes of Henry’s magic when some players got hurt.

Ginny kept herself close to us, I saw she was scared of what was happening. Neither she nor Diggory could find the Snitch, and people got tired. Which meant they slipped more often. And when I say, slipped, I mean it literary. I accidentally threw my bat at the Bludger even though I meant to hit it and then I had to duck quickly. Hufflepuff keeper went after a Quaffle and fell off his broom, victoriously holding his ball. Chasers lost their ball due to moist fingers and slippery gloves.

Poppy’s going to kill somebody.

Ginny flew away with a short yelp of excitement – I went after her, to guard her against Quaffles and other players. Diggory was on our broom bristles in an instant, eyes squinted. Ginny was less experienced and her broom was worse, but those goggles gave her enough upper hand that she was clearly winning the chase. George pushed the Quaffle to me, so I could hit Diggory. It only slowed him down – he obviously used sticking charm. Smart of him.

My little sister stretched out her hand – for a second I saw a golden speck between the raindrops. Lee was screaming in excitement, the whole Griffindor stand was scandaling her name. Diggory had no chance.

“Ginevra Weasley caught the Snitch!” everybody started yelling – some in victory, others in defeat. But I stiffened – I felt the air turn freezing and got goosebumps. “Fred! Dementors!” Lee yelled in warning. I was up high with the two seekers so we were the closest to a horde of Dementors who were circling above us.

“Down!” I yelled at Ginny who was trained well enough by Wood to react in a second and dived as quickly as her broom allowed. Diggory took longer, his eyes wide with horror, but after I lightly smacked him with my bat he unfroze and dived down with us. The dark creatures followed us down, drawn to our terror and dark memories. We fell down after we reached the ground – they were still behind us! Some went to the stands where most teachers protected the students, but we were alone.

“Expecto Patronum!” Henry’s voice was unmistakable. Only a faint mist came from his wand but the creatures went back a few steps. His eyes were wide and skin paler than usual, hands shaking, but Henry managed to hold it long enough for us to get to our feet and run. I grabbed his arm and dragged him away with us. He almost fell victim to gravity but managed to stand up and sprinted with us. The closest teacher to us was Hook, whose eagle Patronus flew above her and other students’ heads – so we joined. I hugged Ginny and Henry, both of them shaking. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Henry muttered under his breath. “Fucking spell depending on fucking emotions. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

George came to us, elbowing several people who were in his way and hugged the younger ones from the other side. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, Henry helped us,” Ginny grinned weakly, her goggles still on, but crooked. Then she pushed her fist into our faces and showed us her fist caught the snitch. “We won!”

“Fucking Gryffindors,” moaned Henry and kicked me in the shin so I let him have his personal space. “I have chocolate,” he offered chocolate stick to us, and then let them circle through the group. “Is anyone injured?!” someone yelled affirmatively, so he disappeared just like the chocolate sticks and left us alone.

“I heard Tom,” Ginny muttered into my chest. “I heard him speak and hiss.”

“Oh Ginny,” George cooed and squished her harder.

“You don’t have to be scared of him,” I added, hugging them closer.

“I know, but when I heard him – I thought for a second he was up there with us.” I exchanged a look with my twin – what are we supposed to say to that?

***

When the dementors went feral, I turned into a frozen statue and just looked at my friends up in the air, getting surrounded by the dark creatures who brought fear and coldness with them. I saw how Fred led them to the ground and I ran towards them – I could help them, even if it was with a burst of pure magic. Of course, I tried the fucking Patronus spell – thought about a happy memory (when I got my first prize ever).

It didn’t work. It fucking didn’t work! It kept the Dementors away for long enough, but it didn’t fucking work! I wanted to rip them apart with my bare hands but I wasn’t that suicidal so I ran with Weasleys and Diggory to the closest group.

Fred tugged on me and I fell into a hug without my usual resentment for physical touch – it helped to have the imaginary safety around me. It calmed my nerves. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Somewhat. “Fucking spell depending on fucking emotions. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I refuse to try a sappy memory. I will find a normal memory that will work.

I tried to distract myself by helping others with their small wounds but not even in the safety of my dorms my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Fucking Dementors – this is even worse than the last time. Luna was much calmer but mirrored my curled up position with a drink of choice – she preferred hot chocolate, which is a viable option. I had my Earl Grey and chewed cookies brought by one of the school elves Luna befriended. Her soft plush was between us, used as an armrest – and it wasn’t the only soft thing we used for personal comfort. I had two fluffy blankets thrown over me and Luna was cocooned in a dull blue one.

“Sleepover!” Hermione barged into our dorm with a big smile, twins burdened with a mountain of blankets, pillows and food behind her Majesty who carried only the music player I left in the Griffin tower last week. “Prefered music?” I had all my CDs on the fireplace mantel, so she didn’t have to go through my very organized trunk to find it. Only trusted people could get here, so I didn’t fear somebody might steal my collection from me.

“Not really.” I shrugged.

“Iron Maiden!“

“The Number of the Beast!”

“We like that one.”

“A classic,” Luna nodded sagely. “Henry says it is one of the biggest masterpieces in the heavy metal genre.” I shrugged – it’s a good album but those words were originated from some magazine about music dad subscribes to. “And skip to the pièce de resistance. I like the second part of the album most.” I snorted at that. It was a kind way of saying she likes two songs out of all of them – The Number of the Beast and Run to the Hills.

Luna prefers rock – Queen, for example. I bet she would like pop, thankfully I have no CD so she can’t blast that kind of hell in the morning.

Twins made impromptu beds on the floor and brought additional pillows and blankets from our rooms. Food was laid out buffet style and they tried to make the ground look softer than the couch by lounging around like kings, while Hermione worked on her little mission of looking for a specific album and then the song.

I couldn’t help myself when it started to play and I monologued together with the taping.

 

“Woe to you, oh earth and sea

For the Devil sends the beast with wrath

Because he knows the time is short

Let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the beast

For it is a human number

Its number is six hundred and sixty-six.”

 

They tried to talk too and even though they made mistakes here and there, it wasn’t annoying. Twins spring up to sing with dramatic movements, bottles used as microphones. It elevated my mood and laughed with the rest of the audience before the end of the second verse. After a long Yeahhhhh, I couldn’t help myself, jumped up and joined them. Hermione got into the whirlwind of chaos thanks to George who dragged her up and started to wildly dance with her in big turns – her curls worked wonderfully with headbanging. Luna dragged me into a similar carousel dance, laughing more than singing. Fred joined and before long, all of us were in a big circle dancing to Run to the Hills. It didn’t really go with the music – it was fun tho.

 

“Run to the hills,

Run for your life!

Run to the hills,

Run for your life!”

 

Good thing nobody can come and yell at us. Our singing was bordering on screaming and when we ended, our laughter was ear-piercing. My voice jumped up and down several octaves, which made us giggle harder. “My lungs,” Hermione brayed hysterically.

Our laughter turned into small giggles until we calmed down and got into comfortable laying positions in our nest of pillows and blankets. I was partially laying on Fred and Hermione, their bony shoulders under my head but I was comfortable. I pulled out my prosthetic eye before curling up with Luna so I didn’t need to take it out before falling asleep. Luna took my glasses and then laid on my front, hugging her sea lion. “And where do I go?” George wondered before curling behind Hermione and throwing his hand over us.

“You don’t want to cuddle with me, brother of mine?”

“I couldn’t get to the cute ones over you,” he stuck his tongue out. I looked at Hermione who was rolling her eyes hard.

“Idiot,” I snorted at him. I wonder how long will I manage to stay like that. “Did you put stasis charm on the food?” I yowled.

“Yes, I wasn’t sure if we would get to eating it, raven.” Luna was already snoring and Fred wasn’t far from slumber, judging by his deep breathing. Hermione yowled and George followed her. “Don’t worry and wake us up when you want personal space,” the still-living ginger mumbled before snuggling Hermione’s hair and fastly falling asleep.

I turned the music off, so it wouldn’t jolt somebody awake. “Thanks for lifting my mood up,” I mumbled to Hermione.

“Thank you for being this soft, I think we all needed to comfort and be comforted,” she grinned sleepily. I waited for her to fall asleep and summoned my wand from where it fell when I threw it.

“Expecto Patronum,” I whispered and almost screamed in anger when almost corporal Patronus jumped out of my wand. This is such a sappy moment – does it have to really be a fucking sappy moment?! I threw the fucking stick away again and summoned a fluffy blanket instead. The familiar smell and warmth coming from my personal heaters lulled me to sleep, even though I was still aggravated by the fucking spell.

Chapter 23: Birthday Girl

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“What is your size?” a Slytherin girl, Brook, asked. I often help her with potions – she’s pretty good, but she wants to become a healer so she has to be better.

“Of what?” Was my instinctual question. “And why?” She snickered at the added question.

“For a surprise, Slytherin Heir. So, what is your size?”

“I doubt fucking purebloods know how big is an S or M.”

“Centimeters, please, you moron,” she rolled her eyes and almost sat at my legs. I curled them to my chest and saved them from possible fractures. “I didn’t know what book to buy and you have enough chocolate so I thought I would buy you clothes worth of the Slytherin and Potter heir.”

“There is never too much chocolate, bitch. And how the fuck am I supposed to know ‘my centimetres’, you cunt?! And I dress perfectly fine.”

“You don’t. Stand up! I brought a measuring tape especially for this!” I knew that look – Marie gets that shine in her eyes and I can never tell her no when that happens (unless I want to suffer). So I took off my lab coat on her insistence and tried to stand correctly enough that she wouldn’t yell, but also made it wrong enough so it would irritate her. “You are such a little brother,” she grumbled and poked me between my ribs. “Well, we are finished – and now you shall escort me to the Great Hall and I will pick what you eat. You look like a caricature with those spindly legs!”

“Wait, Strange! What do you want for those measurements?”

“I have money,” another Slytherin perked up and followed us – ten students ended up coming with us to the dinner and bribed Brook so they could have my measurements. It was creepy so I went to hide at the Griffindor table.

“What are you doing here?” I sneered at Daphne, who turned to me with a tight-lipped smile.

“Dinning, Henry. What happened that you gathered such a crowd?”

“Brook wants to buy my clothes for the ‘Slytherin heir’s Christmas gift’ and needed to know my size – and now all of them want to clothe me.”

“They wanted to do that last year too,” Luna leaned on my shoulder and exchanged her plate with mine, then, again, put food on her new plate.

“At least you’re going to look like a proper Heir.” Daphne looks too happy about this. “I should acquire her notes – I have a great idea what might suit you.”

“I’m scared already. I hate this tradition…”

“I would buy you a gift anyway, Henry. We are friends, aren’t we?”

“More of a bully and their poor victim,” I muttered and stabbed my dinner. “Wait, does that mean you want something from me?”

“Engagement gift, if you would.” Her smile looks like the one Marie uses on boys – I find it predatory with a hint of insanity.  Why is my older sister on my mind today?

“What is the date?”

“December 15th,” Hermione chimed in. “Why?” Well, that makes sense, the weather is getting colder and my brain must have noticed the passing of time more than me. I should send Marie a howler, mum said something about her missing me. “Henry, answer me.”

“Marie has a birthday on the 18th,” I said with partially chewed vegetable still in my mouth and chewed loudly. Daphne stuck her fork in me but I only grinned at her.

“Do you have a gift for her?”

“We don’t give each other gifts – only If we find something interesting or want to prank each other. Usually the other – I was thinking about sending her a howler.”

“You could be nice and buy her something nice – and go with us, for once, to Hogsmeade,” Hermione smiled nicely. Too nicely. “You promised me we would search through the Shrieking Shack.”

“Why would you want to go there? It’s dirty,” Daphne wrinkled her dainty nose.

“That’s the best part, isn’t it?” I grinned widely and leaned closer to her. “You can go with us, I’m sure we could find some nice dark dirty corner where nobody would look for you.”

“No, thank you. If you want to take me to Hogsmeade, take me to  Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.” I never heard of it but I have a feeling I know what that would imply. I smeared mashed potatoes on her nose and ducked under the table, scurrying away through a forest of legs.

“HENRY!” she screeched and Gryffindors laughed, sometimes even moving their legs so I had more space to scrawl around until I found a free space.

“I hope you weren’t looking under my skirt,” a girl smiled sweetly when I pushed her leg out of the way.

“Why the fuck-“ I ducked my head down to save myself from a hex Daphne threw at me and climbed over the bench. She was on the other side of the table and wouldn’t walk over it to my side, so I had some advantage.

“Miss Greengrass-“ Flitwick yelled; however, he was ignored and Daphne sprinted in the same direction as me – the biggest difference between us was that I laughed like a maniac and she yelled my name a lot.

***

“Quick,” I grabbed the closest people to me by their forearms and dragged them behind me. “Minerva is trying to make me stay!”

“I thought you didn’t want to go,” giggled George with a grin. He was one of the people I was dragging along.

“Reverse psychology,” Hermione, the other person I grabbed, laughed. “So, where do you want to go first?”

“She won’t expect us in Shrieking Shack,” said George.

“I think she won’t follow us,” Luna said in her dreamy voice, so we slowed down. “She fears Sirius Black will try to kill you.”

“He attacked the Gryffindor tower – I doubt he would find me if I were screaming on top of my lungs ‘Come Black! I’m here!’”

“We can try it,” Fred threw a hand around George’s shoulders with a dry smirk. “I wonder how loud you could get.”

“I have good lungs, so I think I could cover Hogsmeade pretty easily.”

“You? Good lungs?”

“Ouch, Hermione,” I rubbed my ribs.

“You smoke like a chimney at least once a week.” She’s not wrong, but I never felt pain or discomfort while yelling at someone.

“Is it bad for your lungs?” Fred asked, suddenly looking paler than usual.

“Oh, very much so. The tar that is created by burning the tobacco – you breathe it in and it makes a black sticky substance in your lungs. If you look at dissected smokers, they have blackened lungs. It also heightens the probability of lung cancer, emphysema, or other lung problems. It also makes you visually age faster, yellows the teeth and fingers used for smoking – and so much more!” I raised my voice in fake enthusiasm.

“Thank you for the lecture – why do you smoke, then?”

“I like it.”

“…”

We went to the Shrieking Shack – it was a dilapidated building with most of its windows smashed. The wind whistled sharply through the creaking wooden boards when we snooped around. We couldn’t open the door with Alohomora – so we were looking for a key under rocks and behind loose boards, but our hands were turning red from the cold so we stopped and went to Hogsmeade like good little students. Daphne caught up with us in the sweets shop, grabbing me around the elbow. “How was the shack?”

“We couldn’t get in, without being obvious.”

“You could repair the door after breaking them.”

“I’m not particularly good at repairing,” I took a fistful of chocolate frogs. “Who's your friend?”

“Tracey Davis. Do you have an idea what you want to give your sister?” I raised an eyebrow at her quick diversion from talking about her friend but went with it.

“I want to send her a howler, I tell that everyone!”

“What is she like?”

“Hm?”

“What does she like? What is she like?”

“Sadistic demon who likes horrible music.”

“…I’ll ask Hermione,” she turned on her heel and went to the bushy-haired girl. I went to the cashier to pay for my chocolate, then stashed them in my deep pockets. I should have brought something thicker than my lab coat with just school robes over it – thankfully warming charms help. I wonder what will they think of – I hope it won’t be something so fucking stupid I would be forced to buy it just so Marie would yell at me. Like when Fridrich bought her vibrator and she then tried to quickly hide it from our younger siblings and our parents.

It was hilarious – mainly her red face. She bought him condoms as retribution. I would buy her something crude, but why would I do that when I won’t be there to enjoy her reaction? At least I know how she would react to a howler – she would be surprised at first and then she would either be angry or laugh.

I went out where Luna was looking at something. “What do you see?”

“There are Wrackspurts everywhere – it's like Valentine’s Day!”

“Anything but that,” I shivered at the fucking memory of Lockhart and blocked it off. “Any idea what they’ll try to force me to buy?”

“Jewellery, probably. You could make it useful with some runes.”

“Marie doesn’t wear jewellery. She used to wear a necklace but then she ripped it during some fucking sport so she stopped wearing it. And I won’t buy her clothes, I have no fucking idea what she likes.”

“You have perfect memory.”

“Tastes change.”

“True… we can go to a shop Daddy showed me. They have interesting trinkets, maybe something will awake an interest in us,” she took my hand and lead me to a store tugged away in a dark alley. I wonder where the twins disappeared – I know Hermione and Daphne were still in the sweets shop. “What does she like, besides sports?”

“Biology and Chemistry. Boys, recently – but people in general. Fucking pop, cats…” I looked around the place, at different little knick-knacks that were laying on the dusty shelves. “She doesn’t like to read too much - a book must really catch her attention for her to finish it. And neither of us likes sci-fi as much as her, so we can’t pick a good one.” My eyes caught on a glass bauble dangling on a silver chain. It looked like a small terrarium, green moss covering the bottom and small white flowers springing from it. I didn’t recognize what species of plant it was – it looked similar to Sagina subulata.

“What is the plant called?” I asked the shopkeeper.

“What? That?” He came from behind the table a looked at me for too long, before turning his eyes at the bauble. “I believe it was created by some charms master. They don’t need to be watered, just let them soak in the sun and they are ok. I was told that breaking it would be what kills the flowers.”

“So the glass is what holds the charm,” I hummed and touched it lightly. The sun made it sparkle and the flowers looked unnaturally white. “How much?”

“Galleon, ten sickles if you want me to package it nicely for the lady,” he looked at Luna, who was looking at the books, dancing on her tippy-toes like a ballet dancer.

“It’s for my sister, idiot,” I rolled my eyes. “I take it, with packaging.” I watched how he cushioned the paper box with soft tissue paper and then cast cushioning spell on it.

“Can’t you use unbreaking spell?”

“I don’t want to mess up the charm.” He put the glass bauble in, covered it with another layer of paper, put the lid on and tied a bow on top of it with a charm. Then he put it in a small bag. “Galleon and ten sickles, Mr Potter.”

“Bundy, fucker,” I gave him the money and went to grab Luna. “Picked anything?”

“Just looking,” she smiled and grabbed my hand again. “I’m sure she’ll like it.”

“If she won’t, it’s mine,” I grinned widely. “It will look terrible next to the burned wall.”

***

“Are you excited to go home?” Uncle Remus asked with his typical soft smile.

“Neutral.”

“Excitement radiates off of you,” Remus snorted. “What did you do?”

“Nothing bad. Before I fucking forget to tell you – mum and dad want to invite you, if you have time on the 26th or 27th. They wanted to meet my uncle.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“One more person is nothing,” Henry waved his hand dismissively. “I believe they want to trade embarrassing information and/or photos. Just say the date and arrive before lunch – and when I say before fucking lunch, I hope you fucking know you’ll be another fucking dumpster for leftovers.”

Remus laughed at the obvious threat. “Don’t you like Christmas food?”

“Not four days in the row. So? Which date?”

“26th is fine with me.”

“You can Apparate to our garden, I’ll write the address down for you …”

***

Like any other ride home, we played chess and card games, chatting through any activity we picked up. “I wonder why we have to take the long rides to Hogwarts and back home – couldn’t we get transported using Portkeys or Floo?” Hermione muttered after she lost another game.

“It's good for creating connections,” Luna told her dreamily. “Most people met their first friends in the train.” She can’t argue against that, because she met me on the train.

“The way there – sure. It’s like the boat ride, to create a first impression. But why when going home?”

“Some Slytherins use other means of transport – the train is for families that like the tradition and for muggle-borns that can’t Floo to their home,” I chimed in. “Daphne went to Hogsmeade where her mum waited for her.”

“I wondered why she’s not here to try to sit in your lap,” Fred smirked. “I’m sure you miss her.”

“Fuck no. She even annoys me when I’m trying to take a nap in the Slytherin dorm room! Something about that she won’t marry someone who slept in so many beds?”

“Oh yes, Henry James Bundy-Potter, the biggest slut in all of Hogwarts,” George snorted and I kicked him as hard as I could in the knee. “Excited for your exams, raven?”

“Neutral.” I knew I had done everything to do my best – except the fucking Patronus charm. I hate that fucking sentimental thing with a passion of thousand fucking suns. I knew that If I used something sentimental I might do it easily – that one instance told me exactly that – but I don’t want to use something like that! It’s so disgusting to have my happiest memory be so… mundane. Sweet.

Bleh.

“You’ll do great and we will only wallow in jealousy when we get normal grades in comparison,” Fred joked and ruffled my hair. I pushed his hand away.

“You’ll do great too – the OWLs are fucking easy. Hermione, will you try to do them with twins?”

“I forgot to tell you I registered?” she turned red. “I sent it to ministry two weeks ago and they agreed that I can take the test with the fifth years.”

“Yay! Someone we can cheat off of!” twins yelled together in victory, hands balled up and raised towards the ceiling – Hermione sent stinging hex to their ribs, which they laughed off.

“Come on,”

“Hermione,”

“We’ll help you in practicals?”

“I don’t need your help!”

I tucked myself into the corner, away from stinging hexes and much more painful elbows. Luna leaned into my personal space with a small giggle at their yelling. “Is this what having siblings is like?”

“Partially,” I shrugged.

“I saw how yours acted but never felt these emotions – probably because I was only the viewer and not part of the group.”

“We can switch – I’m sure a summer with your dad would be much more intriguing.” It didn’t take long for them to calm down and we started another game soon after that – I claimed most wins after Luna, who had the best luck in cards. I personally think she’s just a great cheater, especially with her sixth sense. Better cheater than me, at least. Counting cards is a child’s game.

The arrival at the station was as wild as ever but better than the beginning of the summer holidays when much more students try to get out of the train (at the same time, of course). We waited as per usual and only after that came out. Luna’s dad welcomed us; his patchwork robes as wild as the last one’s I saw. He apparated with his daughter after quick goodbye’s. Weasleys were the second family we met – Arthur gave me back a book I sent to him recently, a volume describing the physics of engines. It was a small, but thorough book that I took from Fridrich. His wife ignored me.

The last friend on my side was Hermione when we went out to meet our muggle families (What would happen to them if they tried to enter the platform? Would they just collide with the wall?). They were talking, as expected. Dad was wildly gesturing while talking with Hermione’s mother – I worry what makes him so animated. It can’t be anything good.

“Harry!” Mum called and went for a hug that I tried to evade, but she managed to catch me after Hermione made me stumble into the hug.

“Traitor,” I hissed.

“Oh, you grow so fast!” mum exclaimed and pushed me slightly back. I was around her heigh, maybe slightly taller, which isn’t the biggest achievement. She’s one of the shorter adults I know (it feels weird to look at her without raising my chin). “I wonder if you outgrow Fridrich.”

“I doubt that,” I shrugged. “From what I gathered, Lilly and James were of average height.” Fridrich and Marie gained their tall gene from dad, who is over one hundred and ninety centimetres. “As the Healer said, I’ll just reach my height limit sooner than others.”

“My little baby, growing so fast, without me seeing every centimetre,” she hugged me again. What a sentimental being – she would make Patronus on her first try. I glared at Hermione who was trying to stifle her giggles.

“Fuck off.”

“It’s cute,” she cooed, before getting engulfed in a joined hug from both of her parents.

“We missed you, darling,” her dad kissed her hair. “Who would think four months are such a long time?”

“I missed you too, daddy.”

Dad just put an arm on my shoulder, the only being who understands personal space at least slightly. “Excited for the holidays?”

“Why is everybody asking?” I rolled my eyes and let mum hold my hand while we went to the car, after wishing Grangers happy holidays. “I worry how many owls will come tomorrow.”

“Oh? Another batch of gifts for Slytherin heir?”

“I told them I’m not the heir but they believe that my talent to talk to snakes and my personality are clear traits of Slytherin heir. And this year some of them decided to clothe me.”

“That should be fun,” mum snickered. “I wonder if they’ll pick some popular types of robes – I really liked the yellow ones we saw during the last trip.”

“You wouldn’t be able to button it over your chest, dear,” dad laughed and held a car door open for her.

“I would wear it like a cardigan!”

I never imagined my mother would want to steal from my wardrobe… but if someone decided that I would look good in bright yellow, I would throw it at her (after finding out the fucker who made such a poor decision).

They asked me more questions about school, little things that I would never write into my letters. Small things about classes, what I did with my group of friends, if anyone gave me problems.

Mum tried to tease me about Daphne and how they exchanged several letters about the eggnog and other sweets. I told her that she just annoys me, and dad took that as a sign that he can start teasing me about young love and how boys never acknowledge that they are in love.

I ran out of the car because they ended up cooing at each other about how they fell in love.

“Ah, you were so sweet – you weren’t like other boys who would fall over their feet! Your dad came to me with flowers when he asked me on our first date! In high school! My boyfriend before him just came to me and told me, but no – Gregor asked like a proper gentleman!”

When it ended, it was too late to save me from this torture. The worst thing – I will never forget it. Ludvik opened the door for us – I was surprised at how tall HE became. And he lost some roundness that I link with his face. “Hello Henry!” he smiled brightly and hugged me.

“Get off, cunt.”

“I won a competition called ‘Young Physicist’! Would you like to see the experiment I did?”

“Sure, why not.” Anything is better than the pasta art I was forced to look at several years back. I ran up, unshrunk my trunk and then went back down, to look at Ludvik’s experiment.

“We had a task to make egg fall without it breaking! And so, I made a little parachute for it – but I also remembered what you showed me and so I put it into vinegar so it turned rubbery!” He showed me a little parachute with a plastic cup fastened to it and then a photo of a big yellow-ish egg compared to a perfectly white one that was smaller.

“Which one won?”

“The second one surprised the teachers, but they said that both ideas were genius!” he lit up happily. “The second place just boiled his egg.” We made a similar sour expression.

“Simpleton.”

“Yeah, but not everybody can be a genius.”

“True. What did you win?”

“A medal and coupon to the ice cream place!” he grinned widely and looked at me like he expected something. I narrowed my eyes in thought and his smile grew impossibly wider.

“Social cue needed if you want something from me.”

“TELL HIM HE DID A GOOD JOB OR THAT YOU ARE PROUD OF HIM!” Screamed mum and we jumped in unison.

“Er… good job?”

“Thanks,” he giggled. “Just to give you heads-up, Marie is going to break your ribs.”

“What?” I did send her a howler with the gift but that can’t be that, right? Did she hate the gift? “Where is she?” I turned my head in paranoia. Where should I hide?

“She went out with her friends and Fridrich.”

“They said we should expect them around dinner.” Ok, that’s enough time to hide. Where to hide? I went to my room, took out a pack of cigarettes and crawled onto the window sill, trying to figure out if I could survive climbing down in the direst situation. I lit a cancer stick, craving it after the long ride and opened the window so my room wouldn’t smell too much. I wonder if my parents just ignore it like my swearing. They usually notice changes in their children – and I’m sure my smell changed, even though I think I hide it pretty well.

I looked out and managed to lose myself in my mind, rewinding all the practical DADA lessons I went through these past few months. I hate the formal stance and etiquette around duelling, that I have to know it for some reason. I went through four cigs while being so deep in my thoughts.

That’s why I almost fell out of the window when my older sister burst into my room. Then I remembered the warning and almost jumped willingly but she was quicker. She gripped me in a tight hug, pushing all smoke out of my lungs and leaving me gasping for air. I’m getting close to her height, I noticed. I wonder if she will grow some more or this is the height she will stay at. She’s fifteen, after all. Girls don’t grow much after reaching that age.

“You are my favourite brother!” she lifted me by bending her back backwards.

“What are you – Wait, why am I your favourite brother?!” I said, shocked, then added: “Let go of me, bitch!”

“Who picket the bauble, then? Hermione? Luna?”

I frowned. “Me.”

“See? Favourite brother!”

Notes:

Here is a little teaser for the next chapter:

"Hey you, where are you going?" The Bundy Matriarch asked, perplexed why her children have warpaint on their cheeks and weird plastic contraptions in their hands that looked like homemade potato guns.
"We are going to a war, obviously," Elizabeth snorted, which broke the sombre expressions on her siblings' faces. They were grinning like crazy now.
"Snowball war," Marie clarified.
"And why do you have... guns?"

Chapter 24: Snowball War

Notes:

I don't know how my brain managed to do it but... I tried to remember how Snape's robes look and when I googled it, I was thinking: this is not right, that's not what I remember...
And after too long I realized I was thinking about the coat Neo is wearing in Matrix. You know, the long swishy coat with buttons... *sigh*
Tho, they are strikingly similar 😂

Chapter Text

Like I expected, the amount of shit the Slytherins sent me was overwhelming. There were three boxes, two of them magically expanded so the bigger gifts could fit into them. Why do they want to spend money on me? I would be happy with chocolate, there isn’t much that can ruin the chocolate. But clothing? I wonder how many of them will I burn (at least I’m certain there wouldn’t be another skirt accident).

I sorted them into three piles – books, soft gifts, and chocolate. The fact that there were three boxes helped me with carrying them. I put them under the tree and took one of the chocolates. It was some fancy brand and there was dried fruit in it, which added slight acidity to my delicious treat.

I went back to my room and started to brew a new solution for my eyes. I already finished all the homework, showered, made a cuppa and nobody is even half-awake! Not that I slept but homework takes time to write when I have to do it by hand.

Mum was the first one who woke up – she looked into my room after asking if it was safe. “Brewing?”

“Yes. You slept in.”

“It was nice and cozy under the covers,” she smiled softly and sat on my bed. “I saw the boxes under the tree – how did all of that fit into those boxes?”

“It didn’t, they made them bigger on the inside.”

“That’s a neat trick, Ludvik would need that on his backpack. He always tries to pack as many books as he can.”

“I can charm it?”

“No, no, that would be a little obvious, don’t you think?”

“It would be funny if he takes out a big encyclopedia that couldn’t fit into it,” I grinned and stirred the potion five times, clock-wise.

“When do your tests start?”

“28th,” I hummed and put chamomile into the solution.

“Will you come down and watch Christmas movies with us? And would you like breakfast?”

“Yes, and yes, I have everything finished, I just have to finish my eye solution.”

“Ok, I will expect you in the kitchen in… an hour?”

“Sure.” I felt calm, calmer than I was in a while. I kind of missed being home, although I wouldn’t admit it under the worst torture. After I finished the solution, I bottled it bar one batch that I used. I put both of my prosthetic eyes there to soak and went down. Dad was downing a cup of coffee while Mum made Elizabeth a pancake.

“Hey cyclops,” my younger sister grinned.

“Hey fuckwad.”

“That’s a new one.” I stuck my tongue out at her and sat as far as I could from her while still sitting at the dining table. “What possessed you to buy Marie a gift?”

“I was forced to do it by my friends.”

“I still can’t believe you have friends.”

“What can I say, I’m charming.” We made faces at each other – and only stopped when mum put plates in front of us. My other siblings trickled in, every bed-hair better than the previous. Fridrich for sure won with his gravity-defying fringe. Why does he have a bruise on his neck? That must have been a really lucky shot…

We watched television together – I had to have a notepad in front of me, without it I would go crazy with boredom. Drawing and writing down random ideas helped.

“It’s snowing like crazy!” Ludvik called; his nose pushed against the window. “We could go and make a snowman tomorrow!”

“As long as you clothe warmly,” mum pushed him from the window and cleaned the wet circle he made with his breath.

***

I opened gifts from my friends first – Luna gave me another Weird Sister’s CD together with a pocket watch that showed the current moon phase. It seems like a good gift for a werewolf, but many ingredients can be collected only under specific moonlight. This must be a passive-aggressive way to tell me she misses our walks into the Forbidden Forest. Twins told me they are behind with their gift so I can only wait for that – not that I mind, I’m sure the wait will be worth it – they had a devious spark in their eyes when they talked about it. Hermione made me a new sweater – this one was pale grey with thin stripes that were a few shades darker. It had fewer loose threads than the other one.

Daphne gave me robes similar to what Severus wears but in white, with silver buttons closing the front. I hate how much I like it. It even had perfectly deep pockets and the inside was lined with rows of small pockets. I even felt charms on it but the flow of magic didn’t tell me which ones. I will need my wand to untangle that particular mystery. I have permission to use magic the day before my tests so I can take a look then. My guess was that there were self-cleaning spells on it (Daphne hates dirt and always spells my clothes clean) and probably adaptation charms so it would grow with me. Unfortunately, that gives it a death date. I would also guess there are repairing charms and I hope some anti-flammable ones too. If there aren’t, I need to add them myself.

Then the hoard of gifts wrapped in green was next. The books were easy to go through, the chocolate went back to the box after being unwrapped (and sometimes disappeared in hands that weren’t mine). The last box doubled the number of clothes I own. Three white shirts (one bright green that Elizabeth stole) and one pale gray. Two pairs of trousers, one dark gray and the other brown. Robes that went with the pants and one suit vest with brown and green tartan pattern.

“You will look like a gentleman – before you open your mouth – but still,” Marie grinned and tried on the brown robes.

“You too look nice before you open your big fucking mouth.”

“I think it’s hereditary…” Fridrich hummed.

“Elizabeth looks and talks like a bitch,” I snickered and then got my glasses smashed into my face by a pillow.

“Next time, I kick you in the balls.” I put the pillow on my lap and tried to look nonchalant.

***

“Hello uncle Remus,” Henry muttered, half-asleep but still on his feet.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“I want to sleep before the fucking test so I stayed up two days longer,” he hummed. “Come in, come in.” Remus raised an amused eyebrow at the swaying boy. “Which test do you have first?”

“I managed to talk them into all the subjects in one day but the only free date they had was the day after tomorrow. People don’t use their free time productively, it seems.”

“Some people like to relax and not think about studying or work,” Gregor Bundy laughed and offered a hand to Remus. “Gregor Bundy, nice to meet you Mr. Lupin.”

“You can call me Remus,” the werewolf smiled softly.

“Call me Gregor, then. Henry,” the big man put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

“Hm.”

“Go to the kitchen, we are taking turns in eating lunch.” The sleepy genius went without bickering or groaning. “He makes me anxious when he listens so well,” Gregor shuddered.

“It usually spells danger, doesn’t it?”

“Exactly. Would you like a coffee, tea, water…?”

“Tea, please,” Remus smiled at the taller man. He would prefer hot chocolate but tea was perfectly fine too. “How is your holiday going?”

“Fine, the kids are relatively calm – I expect some mischief is afoot. The most they have done is that the two youngest made a snowman in our backyard. I haven’t seen this much snow in years.”

“At Hogwarts, there is snow every winter. The students always get into snowball fights, build snowmen, skate on the lake…”

“I thought you just started teaching there?”

“I used to be a student there – it’s where I met Henry’s parents.”

“He just said you knew his parents very well,” Gregor shrugged.

“Why did you invite me if you knew nothing about me?”

“Samantha – my wife – hungers for stories about Henry when he was a little baby. His first word, favourite toy. Photos would be appreciated, if possible.”

“Unfortunately, all his photos were in the house when it burned down. And I didn’t have any, because I was a spy in the war,” Remus cringed apologetically. “I can only tell stories.”

“That’s enough, we have enough pictures of Henry to embarrass him. Come, the table should be free soon enough. The kids eat quicker than a corrosive.”

As expected, the atmosphere was a bit awkward with an unknown man in the house, but Bundy’s managed to act friendly. Especially the parents who were well versed in awkward situations – the kids not so much. When the lunch ended and the adults went to the living room, the children scattered - not even the older ones stayed. Only Henry, who curled on his favourite armchair and unsuccessfully tried to stay awake. Soon, they could hear his quiet snoring. After that, the topics went from the basic polite ones to those Bundys were actually interested in.

“How is he doing in the school? Is anyone bullying him?”

“Henry excels in every one of his subjects, as is expected. And he looks happy, I can see no indicators that he is bullied.” Remus wondered how often was the temperamental genius bullied. Probably often, with how eccentric he was – the werewolf could very well remember how his own friends bullied another young genius. “Well, I think he would call his new friend a bully – Daphne Greengrass. From what I heard she wants to marry him, mainly because she thinks it would be profitable,” he snickered. Personally, Remus thinks that Henry would prefer a well-aimed kick into the groin. But who knows, he might be the ‘Lily’ in this situation and will be swayed by his pureblood suitor after years of the chase.

“She’s a lovely girl, we exchanged a few letters – she wanted to know my recipes for Henry’s favourite snacks so she could manipulate him better – oh, sorry – make him more friendly.” Samantha rolled her eyes. “She’s a Slytherin, right? I wonder what she sent him last year.”

“Last year?”

“Yes, because Henry can talk to snakes, they decided that he’s the Slytherin Heir and send him Christmas gifts.” Remus could only raise an eyebrow. He never heard of such a thing, mainly that Henry is the ‘Slytherin heir’. The snakes must be joking but why would they spend money on him for a joke? “But let’s quit this polite conversation, I want to know everything.” Remus thought that the interrogation already started.

“Samantha…”

“What was his favourite toy? First spell? First word?” her eyes shined with interest and she even leaned forward. Remus had a feeling that not telling would equal a painful death. “Anything – well, everything. Please?” That sharp smile reminded him of Lily.

“Well, as you know, Henry was born into war and his parents had big targets on their back because they were brilliant fighters. And usually, two powerful parents mean an even more powerful child. And Harry was. First accidental magic is common to show in children between the ages of three and five – and Harry managed to make glass in picture-frames shatter when he wasn’t even a year old. I think he woke up from a nightmare?”

Samantha cringed. “He used to do that a lot before he started with his own sleep schedule. He would scream through the night at least once a week, or cry or make things explode. But continue.”

“His first word… oh, that one I can remember like it happened yesterday. When we were babysitting him – Sirius and I.” Remus didn’t know how much they knew about Sirius so he just acted calmly, they can think he was another friend who died in the war. “Sirius tried to make him say Padfoot or uncle Sirius – I was capturing his attention with some small fire spells because I had galleon on him saying Mommy first - he was such a momma's boy – so it wasn't working. Harry completely ignored him. So Padfoot was bored and went to get some of the pup’s favourite toys when he stepped on a building block. He hissed a quiet little ‚fuck‘, jumping on one foot. Little Harry heard it and before we knew what was happening, he was singing ‚fuck‘ in a lullaby melody for an hour. Lilly was livid when she got home with James and threw Sirius out of the door – physically. It was his favourite word since.“

„So, nothing changed.“

„Yeah, I myself was shocked when one of his first words he told me was fuck. We thought he would grow out of it.“

„We told him at first that fuck was not a nice word and that he should not say it – and he tried. He was so good at not saying it... but his anger issues were too problematic so when we found it makes him calmer to swear, we told him to talk as he wishes.“

„You're saying it as if it wasn't funny when he sang every song using only fuck as the text,“ Gregor snickered mischievously. “When did you notice he was too smart for how little he was? We knew from the moment we met him.”

„Even as a few months old baby he was our little genius – he understood what we told him long before he could pronounce words, tried to walk as soon as we let him sit and always showed us what he wanted – from a potty to a meal. Never napping though, he was unable to sleep more than a few hours as soon as he turned one. Lilly and James thought they would get some rest if they put him to sleep after a meal but he would make a mess of his room before they managed to get to the couch. And it's not like they lived in a mansion. And how did you notice?”

„When we were approached by the adoption service they showed him first to us – and talked very highly of him, not even mentioning the others more than giving us their name if they had any. He listened to her before he started to giggle and called her a liar, clapping his hands because he was so happy he was right. After all, she went red with guilt. Although she thought that this ruined her chance to get rid of him, it made us much more interested. She then told us he was often fussy, never allowed anyone to feed him or bathe him – he wanted to do all of this himself because no one was his mummy. It broke my heart.“

„We asked him if we could be our new baby – we told him that his parents couldn't take care of him now and that he would have two new siblings to play with. He thought about it – pouting and searching us with eyes too smart for a child before he slowly nodded. But then –“ The big man's voice hitched, old scars still hurting. „Every night he would cry out for his mummy and daddy, he would wail in pain and clutch his forehead. It took us almost half a year to be able to calm him down, probably because we became mommy and daddy in his young mind. He doesn't remember that, thankfully.“

The three adults looked at the sleeping boy and wondered how much stayed in his eidetic memory. Remus wondered if he remembered anything from the End of the War; if he remembered his friends’ last words or the exact shade of the killing curse.

***

Begrudgingly, I had to say that the coat from Daphne was too perfect for its own good. This meant I had more free time than I expected, so I took out my notepad and looked over the spells, checking them off as I did them perfectly, one after one. I tried Patronus with normal, good memory and there was only a mist, like usual. Fuck it.

The only thing l couldn’t learn (because of lack of books, not lack of want) was transfiguring myself into an Animagus. One would expect there would be more information about something so exciting, but no – and Minerva wouldn’t teach me until I have finished school. She said she can’t favor one student so much – but I would like to say she already likes me more than any other student. I am the only one she feeds with sweets.

I jumped when Marie barged into my room, yelling authoritatively: “You are not revising; you don’t need it. Now go with me, we need to make a war strategy.”

What?

4 hours later…

“Hey you, where are you going?” The Bundy Matriarch asked, perplexed why her children have warpaint on their cheeks and weird plastic contraptions in their hands that looked like homemade potato guns.

“We are going to a war, obviously,” Elizabeth snorted, which broke the somber expressions on her siblings' faces. They were grinning like crazy now.

“Snowball war,” Marie clarified.

“And why do you have... guns?”

4 hours before…

“I summoned the Bundy Sibling Army because of a grave insult that some idiot uttered! Our youngest AND smallest soldier was told that he can’t be part of a snowball fight because of his age. Because he would for sure be a disadvantage or if he was alone, he would just lose the fight. So! We have the obligation to fight in Ludvik’s war and we will win!” Ludvik and Elizabeth whooped excitedly, I sat there with a raised eyebrow. My genius is not enough to understand why I am here. “And we will win thanks to our ruthless strategist and inventor!” Oh.

“How do you want to use our ‘inventor’ in a snowball war?” Fridrich asked.

“I’m sure he can think of something, like a canon or something. Right, Henry?”

“What about no?”

“I know where you stash your cigarettes and I will tell mum about it.”

“When is the fight happening?” I tried to sound happy about this. I have a feeling that mother wouldn’t let me continue to ruin my lungs in peace.

“In four to five hours.”

“You could have given me more time, you know?”

“Come on,” Ludvik smiled at me widely. “You can do it! We will help!”

The ‘guns’ part was an easy conclusion. It’s an effective weapon and can be handheld which makes it great for a fight with running children (what the fuck am I doing?). Then I just had to invent something that could weaponize snow, which was slightly more difficult but I used runes that I made from the basics of snowball-making spell twins taught me. The only thing you need is snow.

A potato gun was something that was built to shoot projectiles of similar size as a normal snowball so I went with it and used the cheap labor of my siblings and cheated with magic so it would be done before the Fight (I’m glad that this happened a day before my tests, otherwise it would take longer – I didn’t have enough resources to build five potato guns so I had to transfigure a lot of junk). Elizabeth was surprisingly good at engraving runes (because runes shouldn’t be made using magic so that took us the most time) which made my job in that department much easier. I could have written it on it but that might have smeared or entirely rubbed of.

continuing with the present time…

“It was only logical,” Henry shrugged. Their mother could only raise an eyebrow because no other reasons were said by the grinning children.

“Have fun,” she huffed and sat back on the couch, resuming her reading.

And so, the siblings in war paint went to the school. Other groups watched them with wary – Bundys looked too serious for a harmless snowball war that the children of a primary school organized. Nobody would say that they were scared of the group who had warpaint on their faces, accompanied by serious looks and occasional feral smiles.

“Hey, Marie,” called a boy at the pretty girl. “You can join our group!”

“Oh, but I can’t, Mickie,” Marie smiled and threw her hair over one shoulder, batting her eyelashes. “I have people to kill and my siblings are the best soldiers out there!”

“And they call me fucking crazy,” Henry rolled his eyes and stiffened when his older sister threw an arm around his shoulders. They ignored the disturbed boy, whose younger sister was watching them with big eyes from behind his legs.

“It’s the surname,” Fridrich grinned back at them.

“THE FIGHT STARTS IN FIVE MINUTES!” Someone yelled from the playground. “ALL TEAMS HAVE TO BE AT LEAST FIVE METERS AWAY FROM EACH OTHER!”

“We should find a good spot with as much snow as we can,” their strategist offered.

“I think we should separate so we can take on more people,” Elizabeth argued. “We should overwhelm them with our firepower.”

“We need to start from a base,” piped Ludvik. “That’s the only rule there is.”

“It’s possible to start in a base, take on people who are close to us, and then run around,” Friedrich said.

“Ludvik, how do we win?” Henry asked. “It’s not like paintball, snow leaves no marks.”

“It should be self-regulated,” their youngest shrugged. “If you get hit a load of times or you are freezing, you are supposed to go inside and that means you are ‘dead’. There should be hot chocolate inside to warm up the zombies.”

“So, try to do headshots?” Elizabeth brightened.

“If you can hit heads, then sure,” Ludvik grinned.

The siblings found a place they liked – a big tree with a moderate snow mound near it – and they camped there, waiting for the countdown. “IS EVERYONE PREPARED?”

“YES!” yelled several people from their hiding spots.

“Stuff your guns with snow,” Henry hissed through the loudly counting. “One team is fairly near to us; they are behind our tree so they probably want to attack us from behind.”

“How-“

“The eye,” he interrupted Fridrich and ducked down, crawling around the tree.

“LET THE FIGHT BEGIN!!!”

***

A group of unassuming children started to throw snowballs at their friends and their older siblings who came to help, laughing merrily and screeching when snow fell under their jackets or hit them in their pink-cheeked faces. They knew the win wasn’t on their plates, they were already freezing, but they were having fun.

“Hey! That’s Ludvik and Eli!” one of them brightened. “We should go to them, they are alone!”

The others nodded, making big snowballs before frantically running at the two siblings who were crouching behind a bush.

A cackle was their only warning before dozens of snowballs rained on them, crashing into them like rocks. “Got them!” Henry yelled from his hiding spot – his younger siblings turned around, big smiles on their faces. “Finish them!”

The group of unassuming children lost not only the fight but also the dry warmth of their clothes. Oh, and also their dignity. Like many others, who fell for the same trick.

***

“Please! I’m innocent!”

“There are no innocents in war,” Marie grinned widely and continued dumping fistfuls of snow under the girl’s jacket.

“Leave the girl be,” Fridrich dragged her up. “Let’s find the small ones.”

“Henry is not so small anymore,” his sister pushed him off and picked her gun up. “You should say the strategic geniuses.”

“I don’t think that playing false pray is genius.”

“It seemed like it worked for them, eh?”

They shot in unison at a running child that then yelled at them: “Your crazy siblings already killed me!” They shot them once again, just for a good measure.

“Don’t call them crazy!” They yelled at the retreating back.

“Only we can call them crazy,” Fridrich huffed. “Why don’t people get that?”

“Stop slacking!” their crazies sibling shot his hip. “There is a group of people hiding behind the fucking gym. Fucking cowards.”

“And how do you know?” Marie asked.

“We promised my classmate that we wouldn’t bury him under the snow if he told us about THE group,” Elizabeth smiled at her prettily.

“I think we need to crown a different sibling as the craziest,” Ludvik stage-whispered to Henry, who was pouting.

“Losing my title to Elizabeth? Never.”

“THE group? With Seb?” Marie brightened with sadistic glee. Sebastian was the one who told their youngest sibling that he would be a nuisance during the fight and that he couldn’t join their group – he was their main target the whole time.

“If our information is correct,” Henry nodded. “Is everything working?”

“Our weaponry is ok, and the ‘thermal shirts’ work like magic,” Fridrich ruffled Henry’s hair. In truth, Henry simply applied heating charms on his siblings, there was nothing special about their clothing. “Let’s go shoot some kids – and then we can go get hot chocolate?”

“I want to win,” came from the three youngest siblings.

“I think we are already one of the last few teams left,” Henry added.

Marie sighed comically. “Well, I guess we must then…”

“Let’s go!” Ludvik jumped and started to tug her in the direction of the school gym.

***

“Fuck it,” I muttered, thinking about the annihilation of the other children and how much fun I had with my siblings, and said: “Expecto Patronus.” A silver fox with five tails jumped out of my wand, bouncing around like crazy.

“Splendid!” the man testing my DADA capabilities exclaimed, clapping.

I hate it.

Chapter 25: Belated Christmas Gift

Notes:

A "short" filler chapter.

Chapter Text

“Mr. Bundy,” Burkes waved at me after I closed the door behind me. “How was your holiday?”

“Pretty decent. I won a war, finished my OWLs; how about you?” Burkes raised an amused eyebrow at me but I ignored him.

“Congratulations are in order, then. Would you like any books to help you with gaining mastery?”

“Not today. I might write later, though. Do you have the books I ordered?”

Without a word, the hulking man disappeared into a room behind the counter. I looked around, only finding the usual trinkets around the shop. Do they get no new stuff? Or is that hidden? “I had to fight for these and only got them thanks to your backing.” I mostly gave him money dad got out of companies who used my name on their products and who wrote books about the great Boy-Who-Lived. The stack of old books cost me a lot of money, but I would happily sacrifice a leg for those wells of knowledge (I started to look into magical prosthetics and a leg with hidden compartments sounds really cool).

I took the topmost book and went through it quickly, scanning the lines of old English and Latin. “Oh, I fucking love you.” I startled him into a burst of loud laughter.

“You can show it in the tip,” he batted his eyelashes unnaturally quickly. Marie does the same thing when she likes a boy.

“I already paid for your trip to America, the books, and your accommodation there, while you took a vacation judging by the length of your stay. I think that was enough of a tip, don’t you?” I tried to smile kindly – if he wants to imitate my sister, I can too.

“Eh, heh, you got me there,” he huffed amusedly and put my pile of books into a bag. “Before you leave, I got my hands on a book you might like.”

“Show me.”

“Of course, great Harry Potter.”

“Shut up, you cunt!” I took a much thinner book, bound in a modern muggle-style cover.

“It’s a journal from an experimental healer who blew herself up – I thought you would enjoy it.” My vocal cords made a sound I couldn’t name, but it made the tattooed man loudly laugh. “Good thing she’s dead, you two would be a deadly duo.”

“How much?” I had to cough to sound normal.

“Twenty galleons.”

“Surprisingly cheap,” I took out the shiny gold money and put it in his waiting hand.

“Sale for my best customer!” he grinned. “And I was given it for free with those books,” he calmed down after a long hard stare. “She owned half of them before her accident.”

I rolled my eyes at him and put all my new reading materials into my bag. “Take care.”

“Send me orders, oh gracious pile of gold!” I gave him the middle finger before exiting his dingy store into a dark alley where I had to wear cloak so nobody would recognize me. I hope Lockhart suffers.

***

The Weasley family took their time before they arrived at the train station – I was surrounded by three girls before the twins even stepped into the train.

Daphne was preening at my side because I was wearing the coat she bought me for Christmas.

“You would look charming if you cut your hair to something more…” she ruffled my hair while I was trying to ignore her and read my book. “Maybe shaved sides and long on the top?”

“I would look like my older brother,” I snorted and tried to push her away.

“Fridrich is good-looking, so there would be nothing bad about it,” Hermione teased, her book on her lap, forgotten while she wiggled her eyebrows. Twins have a bad influence on her.

“I think the bowl-cut suits you,” Luna said, the nicest person in the coupe. “I can’t imagine you in anything else!”

“Because he never changed his hair, outside of it being longer or shorter,” Daphne pouted and ruffled it again, tugged on it and my scarred cheek throbbed slightly. “Amuse me, Henry – how many Slytherins clothed you?”

“Eleven at most, but some things were matching, so, who knows,” I shrugged. The new clothes were charmed to change up to three sizes so they were the only clothing that fit my overtly long legs which means Marie now calls me ‘fake gentleman’.

“Ladies, young gentleman, have you seen our friends?” George roughly opened the door with a cheeky smile while Fred rolled his eyes at his twin and bumped him to a side so he could sit next to Hermione. I would rather sit there too instead of near Daphne.

“Are you-“

“Excited-“

“About your Christmas gift?” They turned to me together.

“It’s already ready?” I raised an eyebrow and watched the girls who looked perplexed.

“Yeah, we put into it precious hours we should have spent sleeping!” Fred groaned to strengthen the dramatic effect and fell on Hermione’s shoulder.

“We tried to emulate your work ethic, but it almost ruined us!” George mirrored the actions of his twin and fell on Daphne, who was much less friendly than the other girl, and pushed the Gryffindor off.

That was the last mention of the surprise until my dorm was invaded by two red-heads. Luna was half-asleep, clutching her seal and reading a potion book next to the fire while I was starting on the translation of a part of Flamel’s letter.

“I hope this is not a sleeping night!” George skipped to me and took my pen away. “Because your gift is outside, your majesty.”

“You are lucky I slept yesterday,” I stretched before standing up and taking my coat from where I draped it over the chair. “What is it?”

“A secret!” they chimed in unison and each grabbed me under an elbow. “You will like it,” Fred added.

“Promise,” George bumped into me lightly. “I’ll give you a hint-“

“Don’t give him a hint!” Fred interrupted. “He will figure it out!”

“I wanted to say it was potentially deadly!”

“… I thought you would say…”

“I’m not THAT stupid!”

“Really?” Now I talked in unison with Fred and we giggled at George who was pouting. Fred took out the Marauders’ map so we wouldn’t get caught and I cast silencing and notice-me-not charms to make us less obvious. I would take my invisibility cloak but we had no chance of fitting under it. We were too tall for it now.

They lead me out, to the shore of the Great Lake that reflected a big shining moon and stars twinkling on the night sky. It reminded me of one of Dumbledore’s robes. My eye could see something hidden where we were going but it didn’t have a defining shape. “You disillusioned it?”

“Yeah, why?”

“So, it’s potion or rune based,” I got excited. “Is it one of your prank items? But why would you want me to see it here? And why is it deadly? Could it be something like Gillyweed? Stupid fucking people choke on it, I read an article or two about it…”

“You could wait and discover it that way,” Fred rolled his eyes and took down the charms so I could analyze the plain green boxes. There was no name on them – unsurprising as it was a prototype. “Go on,” he patted me on the back and fell on his ass about two meters from the box.

I crouched near to it and sniffed it and after permission shook it lightly and touched all the sides. The top had a hole in the middle, covered by a sticker I was allowed to peel off. “Do you have a guess?” Fred asked, patting the place next to him. George took the contraption from me and settled it back into the stony shore.

“It looks and smells like a fucking muggle firework.”

“I knew he would get it,” George groaned and fell next to me, lying comfortably in the grass. “Forge, want tpo do the honors? I’ll cast silencing spells.”

“With pleasure,” the ginger took out his wand, waited for his twin to finish, and swished it lightly, mouthing a fire spell silently. There was a hissing sound before a sound of an explosion. Involuntarily I twitched, before calming down and watching the crackling sparks.

It was no basic firework – the sparks danced into pictures of the mythical beasts that floated above the calm lake and impressed me when they interacted with it – a Pegasus made waves with its hooves, a hippogriff extinguished itself by diving into the water… they seemed sentient. I read about magical fireworks but they could only form pictures and do as they were told – I doubt that one can predict the Giant Squid that tried to bat down a flying basilisk, who gracefully ducked all the tentacles that attacked it.

I should visit Soteria, I bet she missed me. Where could I get a meal big enough for her? A late Christmas gift would be appreciated, I’m sure.

“Did you bind the animation spell into the runes or did you make a runic version of the spell?”

“I have no idea how we could do the latter, to be honest,” Fred said after a moment of silence. “Would it be easier?”

“If you want to mass-produce these? For sure. It’s easier to duplicate runes rather than having to charm it on top of it.”

“You have to show us,” said George.

“How is it so sentient?”

“The more magic you put into animation spell, the smarter the object seems to be,” George answered this time. “We noticed in charms and tried it.”

“YOU noticed,” Fred snorted.

“It reminds me of-“

“Don’t say it,” George interrupted me, groaning. “I heard enough Inferni jokes from my worse half.”

“Worse?!” Fred jabbed him, leaning over me. “I would like you to know, I’m your BETTER half!”

“Is this going to be the same fucking argument as the one about who is more handsome?” I smirked and laughed when they grouped up against me and started to tickle me, while chanting: “Who, who is?”

We calmed down after I couldn’t breathe and lay on the grass, watching the dark sky and I felt a twinge of tiredness overcoming my senses. This was a perfect setting for a nap, but I wasn’t prepared to have nightmares in a public space where we are guarded only by a silencing spell. I wonder if someone else saw the fireworks?

“We should go in,” Fred yawned.

“Sleepover in my dorms?” I offered.

“That was given,” George snorted. “Percy would skin us alive if he caught us.”

***(Bonus: Valentine)***

The hated holiday reminded me too much of Lockhart – I wanted to play sick but Marcus physically dragged me from the Slytherin couch, kicking and screaming bloody murder. I was thrown on the seat next to Daphne and other girls dressed in green.

“Happy Valentine, Henry,” Daphne chirped irritatingly. “Do you have flowers for me?”

“When I acquire flowers that emit fucking poisonous pollen? Sure, I will fucking bury you in them.”

“Cruel, Bundy,” one of the Slytherin girls snorted. Tracey Davis, which I know only from roll calls. “I have a feeling you will get a lot of valentines this year.”

“Why the fuck would I get them?”

“Do these words spark anything? Harry Potter, Celebrity, Boy-who-Lived, Heir Potter, Genius?”

“I recognized only the last one,” I muttered and Daphne rolled her eyes over me – I wasn’t looking, I just knew.

“Here, so I’m first,” she put a simple white card on my vacant plate. It had a drawing of an anatomical heart on it and when I opened it, there was simple: Let’s marry for profit, cunt. It almost made me smile, but I pushed it down.

Later, Luna came to me with a dreamy smile and a handful of cards. “I’m an owl!” she gave me her ‘package’ and hooted at me. I deadpanned and watched as she flailed her arms, mimicking a flight while she danced to her class.

I looked into them only because I wanted to know who is crazier than me. None of them wrote their names down, cowards! At least they were fairly normal – none had crazy, big red hearts or kisses drawn on them, only one was pink but it was a dusty shade and not one that would damage my vision.

I recognized writing on three of them – one had writing that also appeared on the last-year card I gained (about which I forgot after the Lockhart debacle), and another was recognized thanks to the fact that I corrected Susan’s essays one too many times. The last one was an obvious joke from Luna, who wrote me a poem.

 

My favourite pillow,

warm and breathing.

too bony and not at all mellow,

with a mind whirling and heart beating.

 

I felt that not enough people would make you sappy Valentines,

so I took that burden on my shoulders and stepped over that invisible line(s).

 

With  < 3, Luna.

 

And the whole thing was covered in bold red hearts, imperfectly drawn by the only bearable Ravenclaw in this whole fucking school. I rolled my eyes at her last verse and huffed amusedly. Oh yes, what a burden.

Chapter 26: Dark Lords and Ladies

Chapter Text

Hermione started to cram for the OWLs after the winter break – she decided that she will take the exams two years sooner so she won’t be forced to stay in the school longer than me or the twins. Luna tried to look irritated, but she was giggling minutes after her attempt at acting.

Twins would probably wing it, but the bushy-haired Griffin forced them to study with her. I was helping them if asked, otherwise, I spent my time deciphering the hardest puzzle I ever got my hands on, or I was working on various potions I would need to get the title of Master. To get this title, one must create an original potion that is a new discovery or makes an existing potion significantly better – or cheaper, but Severus told me that that is mostly an additional point rather than the main ‘course’. I was trying to find a better cure for what happened in our second year – after all, mandrakes are in season only once a year and there is no steady supply of it – but I was getting nowhere with that, so I was experimenting with Soteria’s venom.

It had the potential of being a great base of a powerful antidote, but most neutralizers were not strong enough and no animal could withstand the potency of her venom. Only the basilisk herself could survive her own poison, which meant I was sweetening her up for a donation of her blood (thankfully, Burkes knows a guy who happily sends me big dead animals that I thaw and animate for the always hungry snake). I was on the verge of asking her if she could inject a different amount of her venom into her pray and then I could look at how it affects the dead carcasses and THEN I could monitor how it affects her and how well her meal is digested…

Luna often joined me when I visited Soteria, her love for magical beings endearing enough for Soteria to let the small blond rub her scales.

Daphne wasn’t thrilled by the studious atmosphere of our friend group so she spent more time with her Slytherin friends.

Working with potent poison was giving me bad ideas in moments of tired, mindless writing and my ideas were often stolen by one of my friends, even though they seemed engrossed in their repetition of basic information. “Henry, poisonous gas?” Hermione sighed after she took my notebook from me. “Could you put off the ‘weapons of mass destruction’ to your post-graduation days?”

“No fucking fun,” I yawned and fell on her lap, groaning when she let the notebook fall on my face. “There is always time for murder.”

“Don’t say it too loudly, Heir Slytherin,” Luna smiled. “People might start to call you the next Dark Lord!”

“That sounds fun…” Fred reacted, distracted by Hermione’s neat flash cards. “Although the origin story would be weird.”

“Normally Dark Lords adopt pureblood views but Henry would probably kill without a real cause,” George continued the thought.

“I would kill during my fucking experiments,” I smirked lazily. “That is good enough cause.”

“Oh no, he’s thinking about it!” George groaned and shuddered.

“You gave me the idea, so it’s your fucking fault!” I sing-songed happily before Hermione pushed me off her lap, so I ended up on the floor (partially for the dramatics, she’s not that strong).

“I can be Dark Lady, and you can work for me,” Luna offered kindly. “I would allow you to test anything on idiotic purebloods, half-bloods, muggle-borns, AND muggles!”

“I take you on that offer,” we shook hands on it. “You would make a great Dark Lady.”

“More importantly,” Fred grinned. “What would be your moniker?”

“Lady Moon?” I offered.

“I was thinking Lady Lunacy,” Fred offered. “So, it would be an alliteration! Luna Lovegood, Lady Lunacy.”

“Mouthful,” Hermione snorted. “But I get the appeal.”

“I like Fred’s idea,” Luna hummed, rubbing her chin. “People think I’m crazy and if Henry was my second in charge, the idea of crazy leaders would be even stronger. He would be the… Mad Healer?” That almost sounded like Mad Hatter.

“Batshit-crazy Brewer?” Fred chimed in. “So, it goes with the unspoken rule of using the same letter on both words?”

George’s idea was: “Insane Inventor?”

“Manic Mage? Would that work?” Hermione thought out loud.

“Why not,” I shrugged. “There are no fucking rules. So, twins would be Wild Weasley One and Two?”

“There are too many Weasleys for it to work,” Luna shook her head in negative. “And there is no adjective, that is not only synonym to crazy but also that would also work with F or G, right?”

“Can’t think of anything,” I muttered. “Well, maybe Fucked-Up Fred?”

“Thanks for thinking so highly of me, sweet Henry.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “If we go with something outside crazy, we could be Terrible Twins.”

“And what about Hermione?” George was completely ignoring the book in his lap.

“Horrific Hermione,” was the first that came to my mind. “Goofy Granger wouldn’t sound menacing enough.”

“Same could work on you,” she pouted. “And Horrific Henry is fitting.”

“Daphne is such a lucky girl…” Fred huffed. “Demented Daphne is crazy good.” I never believed we could be jealous of Daphne.

***

The first week of OWLs was behind us and Hermione’s hair was never crazier. Her hands went through it too often and she messed up any braid that Daphne put it into.

“You should have waited, and not jumped into it just because the boys are crazy.”

“We are the right age for OWLs,” I snorted.

“Doesn’t mean you aren’t batshit crazy,” she shrugged.

“You have a point,” my twin grinned at the younger girl. “But you will envy us when you have to do them! And we will have them behind us!”

“You’ll be doing NEWTs by then,” Henry entered the conversation, fingers dirty from the chocolate frog he was torturing the last five minutes. First, he bit off one leg, then another, nibbled on the webbed fingers… I tried to not look at how he licked it off. “I doubt you’ll take on as many subjects as I did but as I know Hermione, she would panic over two subjects.”

“I won’t take just two,” she pouted and batted away Daphne’s hands that tried to stop her devastation of a braided crown adorning her smart little head.

 “Sweetheart,” the only Slytherin in our midst purred, “let me fix your hair.”

“You’ll tug on it again!” Henry started to tactically retreat and I thought about following him.

“Girls, no need to-“

“SHUT UP GEORGE!” My speed could be likened to apparition when they moved their fiery gazes on my dear soon-to-be deceased twin.

“Where are we going?” I caught up to the slightly shorter Ravenclaw.

“I need to go pick-“

“Flowers for a fair lady?”

“-potion ingredients in the Forest. You going?”

“Of course – you need a bodyguard!”

“Oh yes, my brave knight,” he rolled his eyes but smirked a little, not fully hating my joke. “Luna is the smartest of all of us.”

“She has a good gut feeling about where not to be,” I nodded. “We should have been smarter and not stay there when she ran the second those two came.” Those two are Hermione and Daphne, of course. They came, squabbling and hissings like two cats, and Luna bolted out of her seat and with a weak excuse disappeared.

The afternoon was cold so almost nobody was outside.

Almost is an important word, because I noticed my youngest (and most annoying) brother who was running after something. He jumped after it and rolled on his back, laughed, and scrambled onto his legs. “What the fuck is he doing?” Henry summarized my thoughts fittingly.  

“We can only bully it out of him,” I snorted and steered a little, so we would get to him. Henry smirked and followed me, a devious spark in his eyes.

“Fred-“

“AH! HELP!” I stopped looking at the shorter student and whipped my head so I could see Ron getting dragged by a giant black dog.

“RON!” I yelled and ran after him, but I was too slow. The dog dragged Ron into a hole under the Whomping Willow, which started to attack me when I came near it. I took a step back and Henry collided with me, sending us to the ground with grunts and hissed ‘fucks’. “What the hell?” I looked at the stupid tree.

“Don’t ask me,” Henry groaned next to me, holding his ribs. “What are you made of?” I rolled my eyes and stood up, helping him up.

“How can we get inside?”

“How should I know? I didn’t know there was a passage under the Whomping Willow,” he frowned. “We should go get help.”

“What if the dog kills him? We should help him,” I panicked – I might dislike Ron, but he is my brother. I can’t let him bleed out or get eaten by a rabid dog!

“We can try to run past the branches?” He said after a long moment.

“I don’t have a better idea,” I grinned weakly – and so we tried. We managed to duck the first attack, but Henry was caught by a smaller branch and I by a bigger one, which knocked me into him. We managed to scramble from a big swing that would probably kill us.

“Fucking stupid, fuck, fuck,” Henry muttered darkly and healed my ribs, and closed the bleeding wound on his arm. “Fucking- Harry?” We watched the big mean ginger cat elegantly duck all the attacking branches until it pushed something and the tree stilled.

We watched it with big eyes until the cat meowled (I could almost decipher the annoyed tone that for sure called us dumbasses) and we ran to it, sliding into the hole between the roots of the murderous tree. We slid down the tight passage that was too low for us to stand up fully, so we had to continue in a comical hunch. We didn’t want to make our presence obvious by a Lumos, so we stumbled every few steps in our hurry.

“This fucking idea was the worst fucking idea we ever fucking had,” Henry whispered angrily – I could feel his magic vibrating with his intense emotion. Let’s hope it won’t hurt me.

“I know where we are,” I whispered when we got out of that dark corridor and stumbled into an old house that was falling apart.

“The Shrieking Shack?” Henry blinked, surprised. It was comforting that we knew where we were – even though we never got inside, we saw enough through the smashed windows. “There is blood.” I looked down and my stomach almost exited my body at how much blood there was – we could follow it like a trail. I forgot our attempt at stealth and ran up the stairs, followed the blood, and broke down the door, not even thinking about who closed them in the first place.

My wand was out and ready, cutting curse on my tongue when I looked into the shocked eyes of Sirius Black. I stilled, shocked by the man who looked like a walking corpse – and he managed to disarm me with a surprisingly quick swish of his – no, Ron’s – wand. Why do bad people like to steal my siblings’ wands?

I jumped on him, tackling him to the ground but he managed to throw Petrificus Totalus at me and because of the closeness, there was no way he could miss. He struggled to push me off so Henry came before the criminal managed to get free.

“The hell?” Henry sent a silent spell that Black reflected and finally managed to get from under me, backing off from Henry like a scared animal.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the man said in his gravelly voice.

“Really?” Henry must have raised his eyebrow, judging by his tone. “Finite Incantatem,” he cast at me and I tried to get to my feet as soon as possible. “Let me stop the bleeding,” he walked to Ron slowly and Black allowed him, watching the only wand that wasn’t in his possession like a hawk.

“If you don’t want to hurt us, why did you hurt my brother?” I asked, shadowing the Ravenclaw carefully. Henry muttered some healing spells and waved his wand in intricate patterns – it wasn’t the one he used on himself.

“You have to listen to me – it’s not how it looks. I wasn’t attacking the boy,” he said slowly. Like he was putting the sentence together and it made his brain hurt. His eyes reminded me of Henry when he had a really mad idea or was in one of his inventive moods; when even Luna seems like the definition of sanity in comparison.

At least he’s not aggressive.

“I need blood replenishing potions and calming potions,” Henry rose from his squat, going through his pockets. “I have only a headache potion and a light corrosive on me.”

“Don’t look at me – I have nothing,” Black snorted. “Not that I would be able to even brew them.”

At first glance, Ron seemed calm – but his eyes showed how shell-shocked he truly was. He was holding Scabbers too strongly and the poor rat was squealing in distress. I went to pry the rat out of his fingers, but Black yelled “NO!” and jumped at me, only to be stopped by Henry’s wand.

“He’s why I caught your brother,” he told me, this time faster, sounding a lot more unhinged. “The rat, the traitor!” He growled like a dog; dark eyes trained on the small rodent.

“What has Scabbers to do with this?!” Ron finally broke out of his stupor and pushed the rat even closer to his chest, his voice rising in panic.

“EVERYTHING!” Black flailed his arms. “Give him to me, and I’ll show you what you were taking care of!”

“I won’t let you-“

Stupefy,” Henry knocked out Ron with an annoyed sigh and grabbed Scabbers by the tail before the rodent could run off. This is not hot, Fred, this is. Not. Hot. “Why the fucking rat?”

“That’s not a rat,” said Black, eyes shining madly.

“What else should it be?” I asked. “We had him in our family for twelve years!”

“An Animagus,” said Black, “by the name of Peter Pettigrew.”

Henry and I looked at the rat and then at the criminal, then back. “Isn’t he the wizard you killed together with those muggles?” Henry asked.

“Oh, I tried,” Black growled. “But he managed to evade me. But not tonight, I will kill him tonight!” I was missing a white foam coming from his mouth – that would finish the picture and make it perfect. “I’ll finish what I was imprisoned for!”

“Suddenly, I feel sane,” Henry muttered with a pout and I snort-laughed, before stifling it.

“You are horrible,” I fake-whispered to him. “Do you have a piece of evidence that this pet is a dead man? And why should we let you kill him?”

“He’s the reason Harry’s parents are dead!” At first, I got stuck on the thought of why would Black care about Harry’s parents (as in Harry’s, the cat’s, parents), and then it made sense. Henry was obviously on the same wavelength because he cursed and smacked his forehead with his wand-wielding hand.

“Do you know a spell to show if the rat is truly an Animagus?” I asked him.

“Yeah, of course, I do. I had it on my NEWTs from Transfiguration,” he nodded. “If you’re telling the truth, we will hear you out further. Deal?” I wonder how hard it is for him not to curse up a storm right now.

“Yeah,” Black nodded, surprise clearly etched onto his face. “You have NEWTs already?”

Homorphus.” A blue-white spell shot from his wand and Scabbers froze, before emitting a bright light that made Henry let go of him. The sound of a falling body was too loud for such a small animal, my brain told me before I saw the disturbing sight of growing limbs and distortion of flesh before there was a rat-like-looking man with greasy hair in front of me.

‘This is going too smoothly,’ I thought.

“P-Peter?” as if we called him, Remus Lupin barged into the room and looked at the short man. “Sirius?”

“Uncle Remus, please, would you restrain the rat?” Henry asked too calmly, eyes on Black. And Lupin was so shocked he did exactly what was asked of him. “Tell me, Black, why do you call this man the traitor? From what I heard; you were the one who held the secret of my biological parent’s hideout.”

“We told everyone that, yes. But I persuaded James to make Peter the Secret Keeper, so the dark side would attack a false bait,” Black answered lifelessly, watching our DADA teacher putting ropes around his… ex-friend? “It’s my fault they died. And now I can finally exact my revenge,” he growled but Henry stopped him by walking between the two animalistic men.

“Why were you in the prison, then? Because of the murder of the muggles?”

“I’ve never gotten a trial.” What? “I killed nobody – Peter orchestrated it to look like I did it.” I could almost see how that saddened Henry – he really wanted to know the spell used for the explosion. “You… you believe me?”

“As long as you will willingly come with us. My dad’s a lawyer so he can get you a fair trial, and because we also have the second suspect, it might even work,” he shrugged.

“No, they won’t let me-“

“I’ll make sure they won’t throw you back,” Henry tried to sound sincere but it was too cold for that. Still, Black smiled.

“Thank you, Harry.”

“Henry.”

Chapter 27: WereHenry

Chapter Text

I healed Ronald enough so he could limp behind the group – Fred helped him, his brother’s arm around his shoulders. I wished he didn’t because that meant I had to listen to Black’s ramblings. Not even uncle Remus helped me, as he was levitating Pettigrew and keeping an eye on him.

He might be bound by magical ropes, but you never know.  

It was a weird feeling, being the saner person. I lack a good reason why my brain is fucked up – being around Dementors for twelve years sounds like the most reasonable of situations why one ends up with a fucked-up brain. However, even though I understand why he’s the way he is, I still want to fucking bash his face in so he would fucking shut up!

I wasn’t even trying to seem like I was listening to him! He just didn’t care and talked and fucking talked! I was glad that we finally exited the Whomping Willow – seeing the wrong end of Severus’ wand didn’t even ruin my mood.

“What are you doing here, Henry?” He hissed at me, pointing his wand at Black. “Did you go completely mad?!”

“Trust me?” I gave him a toothy grin.

“So, you did go completely mad,” he snorted.

“Stop pointing your wand at my godson, Snivellus!” Black growled and Lupin was fast enough to catch the collar of his torn prison shirt. Does staying in Animagus form for prolonged periods of time alter the mind of the wizard or witch? Or is he just batshit crazy?

I’m not sure. I should get him to teach me how to change into my animal form if he’s truly innocent. He seemed honest, but he might be just broken enough to lie to himself. The fact that he wasn’t lying about the rat made me trust him slightly more.

“Calm down, Black,” Severus snorted and lowered his wand. He was pointing at Black’s legs, but the dog Animagus didn’t seem to notice. “I presume you are bringing him to the castle, am I correct?”

“Yep,” Fred popped with a grin. “We decided to come to the Light side for today!”

I snickered at that. “It’s a good ruse, you must admit that, Severus.” He raised an eyebrow at us, before turning his attention to the two conscious adults.

“Let’s go, before somebody catches us,” he sighed. “Why are we helping a convict, Henry?”

“He gave me good fucking evidence that makes him appear innocent in his charges.”

“And crazies need to stick together,” Fred snickered. “Henry, didn’t you need-“

“Yes – Severus, do you have a blood replenishing potion on hand? Ronald lost a shitload of blood.” We stopped, so Severus could help me spell the potion into the shorter redhead’s stomach when uncle Remus groaned in pain and two bodies fell on the ground with heavy thumps.

“Are you kidding me?” Severus stumbled back, eyes wide open, while Black transfigured into his dog form, circling around his screaming friend. “Lupin! Did you take your potion?!”

“Oh fuck,” I wanted to turn and run, but I saw Pettigrew wiggle, so I threw another magical rope in his direction, and then Stupefy right after it.

“Boys, take Ronald to the castle!” Severus pushed us in the direction of the castle, stepping in front of us – as if that could stop a fully grown werewolf.

“We can’t run that fast-“ Fred hissed at him, clutching his brother closer to his side. “-and especially not with Ron-“

“GO!” he yelled at us, almost overpowered by the sound of howl. All of us turned our heads in the direction of Black and uncle Remus. It seemed like Black was trying to calm him down, but Remus was snapping in his direction, half human and half wolf. His skin was hanging off his furry face, one of his hands was at a broken angle but the other one was still human-looking, only with long sharp claws dirtied with his own blood.

It was fascinating, to say the least. If his bones break and heal in a matter of seconds, would any wound heal with exceeding speed? If his leg was broken before the metamorphosis, would he heal it into the correct position?

Fred was tugging me along, so I stumbled from my position, almost taking him with me. He grunted and helped me to my feet – I tried to help him with Ronald, but that only made us slower, so I stopped. We didn’t get far before a black smudge soared in our peripheral vision. A dog’s yelp told us who it was – I looked behind me, so I saw that Severus tried to get the werewolf’s attention, but most spells slipped off his fur like water.

But he did get Lupin’s attention – the werewolf jumped on him, Severus rolled out of his range in the last second and tried to blast him into the forest, although he looked like he would rather blast his brains out. I wonder if firearms would be stronger or weaker than spells against the thick skin of magical beings.

“Henry,” Fred tugged on my hand again, so I looked away from the fight.

We tried to retreat as fast as we could – Black managed to stand up on his fluffy paws and with a limp, he went to help Severus, who was losing the fight. He could have killed the DADA professor, but not even pleas of self-defense could get him out of charges on the base of the use of Avada Kedavra. At least books make it sound like that – but Ministry also hates Magical Beings…

Some branches broke with loud snaps that made us jump – I looked back, unable to see Severus. I hoped he just fell down the hill into the forest and he was fine. But that left only one line of defense between us and Remus, so we sped up and tried to imagine those canine yelps were from the bigger of those two beasts.

I wished Soteria was here – she was the only person I could think of that could keep us safe and without worry.

“Throw Ron down the hill, so he’s hidden,” I hissed at Fred, who simply nodded and let his brother tumble down into the bushes. We should have run. Fred had more self-preservation and couldn’t keep in one place, but I knew that if he sees us, he won’t attack those who had already fallen.

“This is so stupid,” Fred huffed, wand tightly gripped, and was first to fire when a big gray werewolf came rushing at us. He managed to halt his fast-paced run, and I tried to tie him up, but he jumped to the side, nearly avoiding his fate – Fred sent a cutting curse at him, but it slipped off him like most other spells – I tried a darker one, which failed in the same way. We stumbled back, threw spells that came to our minds, one after another, but the werewolf was nearer and nearer, until I stepped back, stumbled over a thick stick and fell on my back. Fred looked down.

The wolf used the opportunity to pounce at us.

Fred stepped, stupidly, into Lupin’s way, his wand already firing into the teacher’s face but that was only a hindrance for the werewolf who wanted to jump at the already fallen prey. Instead, he fell on Fred, snapping at him-

“Crucio!”

The wolf howled in pain, same as Fred who was clutching his face. I wanted him to feel the pain, to suffer because he hurt my friend and when my magic cried in rage, I almost passed out under the surge of everything. But; I managed to keep it down and stopped the spell, breathing hard. I tied him with as many magical ropes as I could. Then I really thought about what I just did and snapped my wand in half, throwing it under the werewolf’s body.

“Fred, I need your wand,” I tried to handle him as my mother would. I softly touched his shoulder and pried the weapon out of his hand – and summoned my Patronus, with a message for Minerva. Then I forced Fred to uncover his face, my fake eye trained on the whimpering werewolf while I disinfected Fred’s face and closed the surprisingly deep wounds, then soothed everything with a cold spell.

I gave him the headache potion, which should dull the pain at least a bit and helped him stand out – firing another binding spell at Remus out of spite.

“Did you-“

“Yes.”

“I thought – no, hoped – I heard wrong. Broken?”

“By the werewolf,” I nodded. “I sent my Patronus to Minerva.”

“Send another one to Dumbledor, he should be able to help.” I did that before he finished his sentence. “Let’s get the grown-ups and Ron,” he tried to grin. “Second year in the row when we need to take care of the big problem – and the second scaring of the face, hm?”

“Your mum is going to fucking kill somebody,” I grinned back, first checking on our prisoner and consequently throwing him next to Lupin before I went deeper to look for Severus. Fred was looking over Sirius, close to the two dangers to keep an eye on them.

Dumbledore’s efficiency is admirable – which is not easy to admit when I’m trying not to think about what happened. Shouldn’t he control Remus more? Check on him? And how did a convicted killer managed to live next to the castle for this long? And the real killer followed not one, but two Weasley’s into the chamber of teenage boys, without nobody noticing. Shouldn’t there be wards to tell the headmaster about Animagi?

Either way – he came after I managed to help Severus crawl up the hill, trying to stabilize his broken leg with the professor’s wand. Fred had Sirius watch over the two bound men while he carried his (thankfully very skinny) brother. Both of us were drenched in sweat when Minerva and Dumbledore arrived, stretchers and Aurors in tow – the scariest person out of all of them was Poppy. I saw on her, that she wanted to scream at us, but she held herself back.

She’ll yell at us later – and Minerva might join her, with that look.

“Mr Bundy, thank you for informing me,” Dumbledore looked over our fucked-up group. “You’ll need to tell me what happened in detail, but that can wait. Your Patronus said something about Sirius Black not being the murderer?”

“He seemed believable, because we caught that cunt, Pettigrew,” I pointed at the short sweaty man on the ground. “Try to keep Black out of the fucking grasps of Dementors and he should be fine. I’ll tell dad to take care of the legal bullshit. Remus is incapacitated, but I’m not sure for how long. Ron should be mostly healed, but he was panicking so we stupefied him. Severus has a broken leg, which I can’t fix without my wand which Remus managed to break when he attacked me and Fred.”

“How did you incapacitate him?” One of the aurors asked.

“Accidental magic,” I shrugged. It’s usually the truth, so they should eat it up.

After that, we were taken to the healing ward, where Poppy yelled at us – that we were supposed to run, and let the adults deal with it, and other stupid shit. Fred and I just sat next to each other and listened to her, our numbness slowly but surely leaving us.

The calm before the storm felt similar to last year – only the lack of pain made it more bearable when it fell away and I started to curl onto myself – Fred grabbed me into an uncomfortably tight hug, but I hugged him back. And then we started to cry, like two little kids scared of the big bad wolf.

We fell asleep next to each other – and woke up with George, Hermione, Luna and Daphne on us, like annoying blanket. So, to show my annoyance, I bit the closest hand, which made Hermione shriek. I hoped it would be Daphne…

“You’re such an asshole, Henry,” she groaned and slapped me so lightly it felt like she just patted my cheek.

“Why are you all hugging us?” Fred groaned into my ear.

“You were almost killed by a werewolf!” Hermione and Daphne shrieked.

“Get the fuck off,” I kicked, eliciting another groan, this time from George, who was also the first to get off.

“What happened to you, Fred?” Luna asked quietly, her big eyes fixed on his newly scarred face.

“I wanted to match with Henry,” he grinned weakly, not saying what both of us knew. What everybody knew.

“People will recognize who is who now,” George said shakily, trying to smile through the tears.

“I doubt that, I think they’ll be confused about who was scarred,” his twin huffed, offering a hug that the more brash twin took without second thought. It looked awkward, as Fred and me were sitting and George was half-lying half standing.

Then Daphne sat in my lap. I groaned in faked pain – unfortunately, she didn’t take the bait. “Bitch.”

“Don’t complain, most guys would be happy to be in your position,” she snorted.

“Really? They mustn’t have ever talked to you.”

“No, you are just… you.”

“Eloquent.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, dear, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Fuck you.”

“See?” she snorted and even disheveled Hermione giggled at that. “What happened?”

“We saw Ronald, wanted to bully him but he was dragged away by a fucking dog who is Sirius Black, as we found out later – he gave us evidence that he was innocent, we deemed it as sufficient and wanted to go back to the castle – but uncle Remus changed to his werewolf form and because he fucking forgot to take his fucking potion, he was supremely aggressive. We managed to win, but he bit Fred before we did it. I called Dumbledore and Minerva, the end.”

“That was horribly dry,” Fred muttered into his twin’s hair. “And it felt like it took days – yet your retelling feels like it happened in the course of an hour.”

“Two at maximum,” I guessed. “The wait felt the longest.” He cringed at that and squeezed George until he started to squirm: “Air! My ribs!”

“If you have enough air to complain, then you’re fine,” Luna poked him in the ribs. “At least you were there and saved everyone.”

“I think Remus was following us,” I fake-whispered to her. “So, that would make us the ones who dragged danger there.”

“He should have been more careful – and he’s an adult,” Daphne concurred.

We sat on the one small bed, all of us touching one another even when at least one of us didn’t want to – Hermione and Luna sat at the foot of the bed, cuddled together but touching us with their legs (at least everybody took off their shoes before they got up – that would be disgusting even for me). I wonder where Poppy wandered off to – maybe to take care of uncle Remus? I read that the morning after the full moon is the worst.

“You don’t have to be so silent about it,” Fred finally broke it. “At least we know that Lupin was allowed to study here by Dumbledore.”

“I’ll make the potion for you.”

“I know – and thank you, Henry.”

“It takes care of every gift-giving opportunity – I take it as a hell of a win!” We snickered but only Daphne joined us.

“Poor Griffins, not getting the joke,” Daphne cooed.

“I’m a raven,” Luna argued.

“Honorary Griffin,” Daphne waved her off. “Either way – I already wrote to the Ministry and they’ll allow you to finish your OWLs later. Poppy added her signature and note as your healer that she’s not going to let you out of here before the end of the week?”

“Why does she want to torture me?” Fred fell back on the pillows, hitting his head on the metal heading, groaning in pain. “Fuck.”

“Are you sure you’re not turning into WereHenry?” George grinned.

“We would have known that for years now,” Hermione rolled her eyes and lightly kicked Fred’s hand with my teeth marks firmly scarred over.

***

“I hope this is the fucking end.”

“Of what?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at obviously peeved Henry.

“Of getting new friends – the taller we get, the least fucking space there is, AND if we get another…”

“It’s a compartment for eight people, Henry,” Hermione kicked his shin.

“But three of us are above average height – and even Daphne is taller than most girls!”

“It’s not our issue you take up too much space,” Daphne rolled her eyes. “And what if somebody starts to date? Then it wouldn’t be a friend.”

“Are you planning to stop annoying me?” The crazy teen brightened.

“I was just giving a possible example,” she grinned teasingly. “The twins are of the age when boys start to date. And Hermione is a beautiful young lady, isn’t she?” Henry’s face was blank, staring at Daphne, me, and George, then it slipped to Hermione. Our only official Slytherin was trying not to burst out laughing.

“Yes, Henry?” Hermione asked with a forcefully cold mask.

“I’m trying to see what is similar between you and Tracey Davis.”

“Henry!” Daphne shrieked, whilst Luna was patting the other Raven on his shoulder, both of them wearing mischievous looks. “You put him up to this!” she accused her fellow blond.

“Do you think Henry would figure something like THAT on his own?” George snorted.

“Imperfection is human, scar-less twin,” the genius snorted, unbothered. “And I still don’t understand why would Daphne chase me around if she likes a girl.”

“I don’t like Tracey!” The ‘ice princess’ pouted, crossing her arms. “Besides, I tell you all the time I want this to be a business proposal.”

“She likes her,” Luna reassured Henry. “She’s in denial.”

“Luna, stop saying that – I’m perfectly straight!”

“Oh, yeah, like the ruler here,” George kicked me, so I kicked him twice as hard back – and instantly felt bad when he groaned in genuine pain. I find it difficult to control my newly acquired strength.

We squabbled and poked each other for the rest of the ride – none of us getting tired from the pouty reactions of our targets. Nobody talked about tests (because Hermione would spiral), about werewolves, or about the school – we made plans to meet each other during the summer, exchanged ideas for pranking siblings/parents/friends, and in general, almost forgot to get off the train. George tried to hug all our younger friends at once and I did the same but in moderation.

“Don’t forget,” Henry warned me when I simply ruffled his hair. It was awkward, as he was about the same height as I was, but I didn’t mind. “If you’re not there a day before, I’m sending a howler.”

“You need a wand for that, don’t you?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly telling me that no, he doesn’t. Typical. “But don’t worry, I already told dad about it – and he’s excited to meet you again and exchange ideas. He has been obsessing over finer motors all summer and winter.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. Then he sighed with almost-pain on his face and followed Hermione out to the muggle part of the King’s Cross Station. I could imagine how his mother crushes him in a hug, telling him (like every year) how much he’s grown and that she missed him.

I get why she always says that – I miss him already.

Chapter 28: Solving a Riddle

Notes:

You might have forgotten about the plotline with Flamel's riddle - honestly, I forgot about it too. I tried to summarize it through Henry, so I hope it's enough...

Chapter Text

I wanted to bash my head against the fucking wall. Or the table, the table was pretty close. Riddles are so easy when one knows the language in which the puzzle is written! Why have I let this asshole live?

I finally decided and bashed my head against the wall, repeatedly trying to get rid of any information that an old asshole forced me to learn. I spent so much money on this shit! And hours and hours of work I could have fucking spent on any-fucking-else! I could have been closer to finishing my research on Wolfsbane potion, or how Dementor-induced insanity works and affects the brain, or- or- anything fucking else!

Something broke.

“Henry!” Marie opened the door forcefully, bedhead in full effect. “It’s one in the morning!” she whisper-yelled, mimicking our mother perfectly. “What are you doing?!”

“I fucking hate old fucking men.”

“…ok? Lit a cigarette,” she closed the door and opened the window, sitting on my bed and throwing me poisonous looks until I sat on the windowsill and lit my cancer stick with a spark of magic. I still haven’t gotten to visiting Ollivanders – mainly because it’s not like I can use wand magic outside of school. Thanks to my NEWTs, I could submit a paper that would allow me to use my wand for up to a month, but I haven’t seen why I should bother.  “…I know I shouldn’t ask, for my own health, but… why do you hate old men?”

“I sent him an important potion ingredient after I found out that it was stolen from him, and I just happened to stumble upon it – and then the fucker sent me a riddle that I had to buy books to translate – and it was just an address, and he asked me to send him a letter if I figured it out! Fucking wrinkly asshole, I should have poisoned it!”

“And you woke me up because of that?”

“If my attempt to lower my IQ worked like that, then yes,” I breathed in deeply, hoping the nicotine would calm my mind. “It took me so fucking long to learn how to understand that fucking runic language – I could have been doing hundred other things meanwhile!” Learning languages was never my strong suit.

“And who is this old man?”

“A famous alchemist, who is around six hundred years old thanks to his invention.”

“…oh.” I raised an eyebrow at her stupidity. “Shut up; I just woke up. You should write to him.”

“To that asshole?”

“Pot, meet kettle. He was probably testing you, no? If he was, maybe he would like to meet you – and you could ween some information and knowledge from him. I think he’s old enough to know something you don’t.”

“I could have been working on improving Fred’s potion,” I frowned. Severus and I were exchanging letters and numerous howlers like crazy, discussing further experiments, but there wasn’t enough time for me to attempt anything. So I only made the potion and started to prepare for his first moon – it came so quick… Uncle Remus also tried helping, but I couldn’t look at him without feeling bad about the Crucio. He thankfully didn’t remember, but I did – in vivid detail.

At least, most of his time was taken up by taking care of Sirius, who was on house arrest for now – every piece of evidence showed he was innocent. Still, dad wanted to make everything as clear as possible, so the court was waiting for him to get better so Veritaserum wouldn’t break his already weak mind. They were living in an old townhouse owned by the Black family – a house with an extensive cellar (in the past, used to hold prisoners, according to Sirius), a perfect place for werewolves. I didn’t want Fred to change with Moony for the first time, but the potion should make them civil enough not to fight.

I hope – I might kill him this time around.

A snore tore me out of my thoughts – Marie passed out on my bed. I forgot how bad her snoring can get – even Fridrich pales in comparison to her. He’s still horrible, tho – I wonder if the younger ones have it in their futures. Elizabeth seems like a person who might beat her sister – after all, she’s the most annoying out of all of them.

I summoned a piece of paper and a pen.

 

Fuck you, you old wrinkly asshole.

With hate for you and your riddles,

Henry

 

“That seems good,” I looked at it and then drew a hand giving the reader a middle finger. “Better.” I gave it to Galileo, but not before feeding the giant raven and letting him rest after he arrived with a letter from Severus during breakfast time.

“Peck his eyes out,” I cooed at him, lightly scratching his feathered chest. “Or at least draw some blood, will you? I’ll give you all the treats you can think of if you bring me evidence of his torture!” He cawed, fluffing up and pushing into the petting hand. “Oh, yes, you are my good little torturer, aren’t you?”

“This is the scariest you’ve ever been,” Ludvik proclaimed loudly enough for me to notice he was watching me with a quirked eyebrow.

“Love you.”

“Mom! Henry finally lost it!” I rolled my eyes and cackled when he backed out of the living room.

***

Dear Henry,

I was delighted to hear from you after such a long time – I expected you to translate it faster, but I guess that the written form of Mermish is considered obscure nowadays.

I heard a lot about you, especially after I talked to Albus about the fact that the stolen stone was sent to me by post. I never told him your name – but I did ask about the Potter kid that was in the newspaper, as many people want to ask about you. I doubt he found it suspicious, but you never know with Albus.

If you don’t have any plans for the end of the month, I’d like to meet the young man that wrote me such a lovely letter and made my wife laugh hard enough to cry.

With hate,

Old wrinkly asshole.

P.S.: Fuck you too.

***

Hi, asshole,

I don’t meet with old men in alleyways.

With hate,

Henry BUNDY-Potter

***

Dear Henry,

I wasn’t asking to meet you in a dark alleyway – we could go to a restaurant or for a cup of coffee in the Diagon Alley. You could bring a friend if me being a stranger makes you uncomfortable.

It would be a pity never to meet such an amusing young genius.

With hate,

Nicolas Flamel.

P. S.: Your bird is terribly aggressive.

***

Hello, disgusting coffee drinker,

This is really tiring Galileo – yes, my aggressive raven. You must be a complete asshole to make him irritated.

Sure, we can meet on the 28st of July – just don’t write to me anymore, or Galileo WILL peck your eyes out.

With hate,

Henry.

***

I liked Sirius’ house – it was dark, big, and full of books. The last part was the most exciting, unsurprisingly. The elf heads were a bit much even for me; however, I can respect the balls to have them out with house elves making your tea every day for decades. Speaking of house elves…

“Werewolves! The blood traitor brought nasty creatures into the Mistress’s house, the disgusting dog master…” he kept muttering, occasionally changing the slurs and curses but always being nasty. I almost felt a kinship with him – almost, because he was badmouthing my friend.

“Kreacher, would you shut the fuck up? I suffer from lack of sleep, and my magic might decide to put your head next to the others.”

“Kreacher would prefer that over serving the blood traitor and his friends,” the tiny creature hissed at me.

“Would you?” I raised an eyebrow. We were the only ones awake – Sirius and the two calm werewolves were sleeping together in the cellar, curled up in one big fluffy pile. I was excluded because human scent supposedly triggers werewolf senses even when under the influence of Wolfsbane.

This meant I was in the kitchen, trying to focus on a book and drinking teacup after teacup.

“The half-blood brat should sleep,” he finally broke the silence that descended onto us.

“Planning on stuffing yourself?”

He sneered, his big sharp nose making it look even better than Severus’.

“You really hate Sirius, right?”

“…why?” his big eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“How about pranking his room? I have a feeling you can’t do it yourself.”

We made sure his bed would always feel kind of wet when he lay in it – and that it would creak annoyingly. I also rigged his faucets to spray water into his face and put stinky potion ingredients under his copper tub – it smelled like wet dog and shit, something the twins like to use in their stink bombs(it was my revenge for the fact that they forced me to worry outside).

Kreacher helped me hide the runes and ingredients with minor spells I, with my meager control, couldn’t fathom doing and even showed me that one of the feet of Sirius’ chair was damaged in the past, so I only had to undo the sticking charm.

It took only an hour, to my disappointment. I fell into my chair at the table and tried to think about what to do next. “Do you have a potion lab here?”

“Of course. But children is not allowed to go inside.”

“I’m working on my Masters, Kreacher,” I deadpanned. His wrinkly forehead rose – a version of raising an eyebrow, probably – but after a minute of thinking, he led me to a room next to the entrance to the cellar. It was in a state expected of a disused lab, but it wasn’t something that couldn’t be undone. I turned on the lights and looked at the well-preserved ingredients, ignoring the thick layer of dust, and then internally fawned over the quality of the stirring sticks and flawless thick cauldrons. “Do you have a wet rag?” I stumbled back when one hit me in the face – Kreacher looked mighty pleased with himself.

I threw a potion vial at him, but he disappeared with a pop. Bastard.

I cleaned the table and cutting board, glad the house elf gave me a magical rag that automatically cleans itself. The pointy-stabby pretties were hidden under thick glass, so they didn’t need to be uncovered from an even thicker layer of dust. After cleaning the cauldrons, I was happy enough with my surroundings to start working.

***

I opened the door to the cellar and walked in – promptly turning around. “It’s not like we have anything you don’t have,” Remus huffed tiredly.

“There are things I don’t want to have seared into my brain,” I answered, face as red as if I was furious. I ducked out of the way when Sirius tried to attack me – I meant, hug me – and marched out of there with hasty steps, throwing the clothing I brought onto the ground. They had blankets to make comfortable nests out of them and to cover themselves (at least I thought they would) – my poor, virgin eye…

I came back with potions – at least Remus and Fred had pants on. Uncle had one of his cozy sweaters on, Fred was half-asleep in pants, and a blanket was thrown over his naked shoulders. “Sirius – nutrient potion, bone-strengthening potion, metabolism potion, and go eat biscuits.”

“Biscuits?” He livened.

“My mother sent them,” I pushed the potions into his hand and almost kicked him when he made faces at them. “NOW!” At least he tends to be as obedient as a dog when I raise the volume. “Remus – nutrient potion, pain reliever, muscle relaxant, and I’ll give you something for sleep later. Go, they have chocolate chips.” He took off as if there was a fire on his heels.

“Nurse Bundy,” Fred saluted weakly.

“I have the same potions for you – bar nutrient potion – as I gave Remus. Do you need help to get to your room?”

“Don’t I have a mandatory cookie waiting for me?”

“Mum sent two boxes,” I took a package out of one of my enlarged pockets. “She would prefer if we came for lunch, but I told her you would probably sleep the day away. Which means we are going tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you’re not her biological child?” He was the only one who obediently chugged his potions before biting into a cookie. I sat across from him and took one too. “Why did you give Remus the nutrient one?”

“I noticed his ribs were too visible,” I shrugged. “But it was Sirius’ request that made me do it.”

“What were you doing during the night?” he speedily finished his second cookie and went after another.

“Kreacher showed me the lab, so I cleaned it a bit-“

“You cleaned it?” he raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

“-and tried to analyze all the fucking ingredients in Wolfsbane and how they interact, tried to reverse-engineer the process… all the fun stuff.”

“Are you planning on improving it?”

“It would be a good project for my Master’s, wouldn’t it?” I shrugged. “Or at least as a part of it. I would like to talk to werewolves that live without the potion – I wonder how many drawbacks it has. I also need to bully Sirius into teaching me how to turn into an animal, so I can spend the full moons with you, so you’re not alone during school. I doubt people would like to have Remus on the premises after the Prophet got loud about his creature blood.” Dad managed to stop the ‘defamatory statement’ after the first print, but it spread like fire before we managed to do anything.

“That was a jump,” he rolled his eyes. “Think Minnie wouldn’t want to cuddle?”

“I think she might bite harder than I do.”

“Do you think I’ll be fine before the World Cup? After my second moon?”

“It’s a week before, so I doubt there will be any issue. Besides – who would want to go there?”

“You are going,” he snorted and swept off the crumbs from the last cookie. I stood up to help him to his feet – which was good because he stumbled like a newborn fawn.  

“I owed George,” I pouted, still irritated about that bit. “I’m going to ruin if for all of you, assholes. And Hermione will help me!”

“Daphne is not going?”

“She wrote that she has better things to do. And Luna will be with her dad in a place she ‘cannot tell me about’. Cunt.”

“It will be like our first year – just three lions and one little raven.”

“I’m far from little!”

“Cute little raven,” he cooed, pinching my cheek, so I kicked him in the shin. He yelped in pain, but only hugged me around the shoulders instead, putting some of his weight on me.  “Let’s go get some sleep – you look like you need it.”

Somehow, we ended up in the same bed. Again. Consequently, we were soaked simultaneously by a fucking mutt with the brain of a fucking child! “SSSIRIUSSS!”

“YOU STARTED IT, PRONGSLET!”

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

I didn’t, unfortunately.

If nothing else, it would win Kreacher over…

***

We had to exchange three more letters to know where and when to meet – I despised the owl Flamel sent me but managed not to break its neck in the exchange of notes. So, I knew where to look for them and arrived around the correct time, but the place they chose was packed with old people.

Thankfully, I took Galileo, who knew the old alchemist – and I took an unwilling prisoner with me to guard me like a loyal dog. Unwilling might be a strong word, but Fridrich wasn’t planning on going with me an hour ago.

Remus apparated us to Diagon Alley, so it didn’t take long for us to get to the coffee shop. Thank-fucking-fully.

“I had a date planned,” he bemoaned.

“Bad luck that mum picked you,” I grinned sadistically and petted Galileo’s beak.

“Of course, she picked me – Marie would kill anybody who would touch you, but she lacks the aura of ‘don’t mess with my nerdy brother’.”

“I think Marie is much more intimidating,” I argued for the sake of arguing. I would rather get punched by her than Fridrich – although she would go for a soft spot, my older brother would just go for the face… hm…

“Because she looks like mum,” he snorted. “Why are kids looking at a broom?”

“It’s like a motorcycle for wizards,” I waved my hand. “Or a cool bike, I suppose. They play Quidditch on it.”

“The sport twins play?”

“Exactly.” Galileo took off and attacked an old white-haired man – tugging on his hair. “Our target!” I grinned and went to the disgusting pair of coffee drinkers. “Galileo, he’s not a mouse to eat.” I extended my arm that he hopped on and then went onto my shoulder, where he pressed himself into my neck and apparently chose to take a nap.

“Henry, I’d assume?” The old man stood up and extended his arm for a handshake.

“And you are Nicolas,” I sat across an old lady with a ring on every finger of her hands. “Perenelle, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Flamel, if you’d prefer.”

“Not really. This is my brother, Fridrich Bundy.” A sibling of mine, who took the man’s hand like a boring person.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled at them with all his Bundy charm. Nicolas smiled back at him, but his wife didn’t – I already liked her more than the wrinkly asshole.

“So, what do you want?” I asked.

“I wrote that we wanted to meet you – and personally thank you for being an honorable young man.”

I scared Galileo with my loud outburst of laughter – he jumped off and settled closer to Perenelle, who gently stroked his back. Fridrich wasn’t much better, the fucking bastard – he was clutching his ribs in no time.

“Honorable!” he brayed and slapped his knee.

“That was good,” I cackled and swiped the tears of amusement from my eye. “I must tell that one to everybody; they’ll have a good laugh.”

“Glad to amuse you,” Nicolas spontaneously developed a tick for some reason. “Anyway – whatever made you send our stone; we are thankful to you.”

“We owe you our lives,” his wife stepped into it. “Albus told Nic that you are a brilliant individual so we thought you would be happy to accept some sort of payment of knowledge from us for your… generosity.”

“Alchemy books are scarce at best – even in my preferred bookshop. But from what I gathered, it’s an archaic version of potion-making. The only difference is the art of transmutation, the change of ingredients to gain different performance outcomes. Am I correct?” He nodded. “How would that benefit me?”

“I think my experience and council are something others would kill for,” the old man muttered and stirred his coffee.

“Innovation cannot come without thinking outside the box,” I shrugged. I would ask him about werewolves and if he knows something about Wolfsbane, but I don’t want somebody to overhear us and then find out about Fred.  

“And my little brother is one proud asshole.” I punched Fridrich’s arm.

“What is your academic interest, young man?” Perenelle asked me calmly. She reminded me of Minerva, whose hand slipped a bit when she poured whisky into her tea.

“I want to be a healer, but I primarily specialize in potions, transformation, runes, herbology, healing magic, and charms. And Creatures because my friend likes to talk about them.”

“That is a lot to specialize in,” she hummed. “Why healer, if I may ask?”

“I always wanted to be a doctor.”

“We believe he wants unrestricted access to bodies for experiments, so he could create a real Frankenstein.”

“Frankenstein’s monster, idiot.”

“Potayto, potahto,” the irritating blond waved his hand, so I fired a nonverbal jinx that made him yelp.

“One of them is incorrect, but it doesn’t surprise me that a stupid fucking cunt like you wouldn’t even know his own first fucking language!”

“I wondered when you would break,” he grinned with pleasing pain still ebbed into his feature. “What was that?”

“Biting jinx.” I glared into his annoyingly blue eyes.

“I myself specialize in runes,” Perenelle interrupted our heated battle of wills. “Nic likes to flaunt his Mermish, but that’s the only runic alphabet he really knows.” She ignored her husband’s pouting.

“You like languages?” I looked away from Friedrich – I already knew I’d suffer, but he won’t do it in front of witnesses. I should ask Remus to Apparate me to the Burrow to escape my inevitable death and/or torture. Or, I could make a trip out to visit Hermione. Take her mind off a specific letter she’s waiting for. 

Huh. Unusually nice of me, isn’t it? Mum might even drive me there if I use that excuse.

“A bit, but I mainly enjoy working in languages others cannot decipher, making my rune work much more effective. The Goblins use a similar modus operandi and are hailed as the best warders. Although, I much more prefer to work on a smaller scale.”

“I did my eye,” I popped it out, charming it clean. I need to replace it anyway, so some damage from the charm shouldn’t be a huge problem. She took it without the grimace I wished for (at least Nicolas looked disturbed).

She touched the top of her glasses and stroked it until she seemed happy. Does she have charmed glasses? That’s cool… not as cool as my eye, of course, but I could work on something… When I have time.

“The charms and runes need to be replaced.”

“I know.”

“Thermal vision?”

“It helps with brewing.” And it is fucking cool.

She pulled out a notepad and started to copy the runes, then motioned for me to come over. “It might be labor-intensive, but if you change these runes-“

***

“And I thought you would be crazy,” Fridrich muttered to Nicolas.

“She used to be much wilder when we were much, much younger,” the older male smiled.

“I hope Henry will also grow into a calm old lady before he manages to destroy humanity.”

“A girl might put him straight.”

“…I’ll rather bet on the age.”