ways to yield, ways to earn

" so pack up your car

put a hand on your heart

say whatever you feel

be wherever you are

we ain't angry at you, love

you're the greatest thing we've lost. "

Harry tucks his feet up underneath himself in true heathen style. He's not quite sure what to make of them - these people who could have been his family in another life. Most of them don't seem to be closely bonded with one another; Rhaenyra, who would have been his sister, keeps herself straight-backed and tilted away from Alicent Hightower; her uncle-husband (the fuck?) smirks at the Hightowers in a way that invites trouble; the two factions of children either shy away from or scowl at each other; and two of them, Daeron Targaryen and Gwayne Hightower, appear to only be - or mostly be - familiar with each other.

He decides, glancing over at Ron, Hermione and Neville, that he much prefers the family he has been able to build as Harry instead.

Quiet murmurs fill the living space as a house - privet drive, that's just wonderful - he winces at the sight - comes into view.

An elderly man appears, walking down the street, heading towards a tabby cat that sits, curled up on the wall.

"Are they important?" Rhaenyra asks immediately, the projection-movie-thing pausing for the discussion. Harry sees Thea holding back a deep sigh. Ron, on the other hand, doesn't bother to disguise his eye roll. It's going to take forever to get through this if they stop every five seconds.

"Yes," Hermione says, with a patience Harry has never truly been able to grasp for himself. "That's-" and as she goes to speak, to take a deep breath, or something, it's like her voice is completely cut off, and her air supply, too; she chokes for a second, and then takes an unsteady breath.

Neville bites a nail. "If that's a spoiler, we're so fucked," he whispers to them, but it's half lost as Alicent sits up with a cry of "what was that?"

"I suppose it's what's happens when we try and give you a spoiler," Charlie says, as diplomatically as he always is (which is not at all), completely unapologetic. "So perhaps it's better to watch than ask us for them."

Ron snorts. Rhaenyra doesn't flush, but she does murmur an apology, looking more alert than before.

The elderly man clicks what looks like a lighter, taking out the light on the street lamps. The cat meows in what might have been disapproval.

Ron grins. "Ah, she's always been like that, then."

Hermione exchanges a look with Harry, however. "Someone should have noticed that," she says quietly. "All the street lights going out at once? I understand it might be nighttime, but they're always going on about keeping wix and muggles separate. What were they meant to say, a blackout?"

Thea props her elbows on her knees. "I would have noticed if I were awake," she says lowly, "but come on, how much do wix think about muggles routines? They would have assumed we were all asleep, or something. They wouldn't have thought about late night workers or insomniacs or anything. You know what wix-raised wix are like."

Daeron and Joffrey appear to be transfixed by what is on screen. "Is it magic?" Joffrey asks his brothers quietly. Daemon shakes his head at him.

"Can't be," the Targaryen man says. "I mean...what, you believe that they are some form of heretics?"

"Thea's not a heretic," Charlie volunteers, overhearing. The girl besides him shushes him, still quietly talking to Hermione. Ron and Neville exchange long suffering looks.

Daeron has his elbows resting on his knees, and at Charlie's words, he fixes his gaze on the side of Thea's face. She slants him a brief look, and he narrows his eyes at her, before going back to peering curiously at the projection.

The man looks down at the cat.

THE MAN: I should have known that you would be here...Professor McGonagall.

"Professor?" Aemond repeats, a low drawl, almost a scoff. "That is a cat."

"I suppose he's well known for his observational skills," Harry says conversationally to the wix he's sat next to.

Ron snickers, goes to answer - "don't make an eye joke," Neville warns - the trio getting a baleful look in response. Lucerys, however, snorts into his hand, getting an elbow to the side from Jacaerys.

The cat's shadow morphs into a woman.

Alicent gasps, looking almost faint. Harry raises an eyebrow at Hermione, who laughs into her thermos.

"Witchcraft," she whispers. "You are...you are devils and heretics."

Somehow, it's not the worst thing Harry has ever been called for being a wizard, but he kind of hoped attitudes would be different here.

"Well, that's a perspective," Thea, the only muggle in their group, says pleasantly. Charlie flattens a hand on her knees, silently telling her to not antagonise the royal family.

"What would you call it?" Alicent snaps back.

It's Hermione who answers. "An extra ability that some can claim to have."

"Like dragon bonding," Thea finishes succinctly. "That's not exactly a normal gift that people have, is it?"

Several Targaryens puff up - in pride or annoyance, Harry can't tell. A few scowl at her. Gwayne, however, muffles laughter with a cough. "Mayhaps we should watch before calling them devils," he says, and Rhaenyra looks disgruntled to agree with him as he nods.

Then again, Harry is an alternative...reborn...some sort of version of the dead brother she's never met, so it makes sense she's sticking up for him - for now, at least.

MCGONAGALL: Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. Are the rumours true, Albus?

DUMBLEDORE: I'm afraid so, Professor. The good, and the bad.

"Oh," Hermione says quietly, their mood dropped, any energy sucked out of their group. Harry stares down at his hands, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Ron folds a hand over his arm. "It's...that night."

Harry grunts in response. No one is really saying anything, and the other group are staring at them in confusion.

"What night?" The drunken one - Aegon? Harry couldn't full remember the differences between them all - asks. Demands, really. Spoiled asshole.

Neville goes to respond, and chokes on air. The room goes fully silent. "Does that answer your question?" He asks quietly.

Gwayne clears his throat. "Thank you for trying," he says, in a way that implies that he knows they were trying to ignore the issue at hand. Aegon rolls his eyes and slumps in his seat, shoulders rolling inwards, until he gets a sharp side eye and hiss from his mother, telling him to sit up straight.

MCGONAGALL: And the boy?

DUMBLEDORE: Hagrid is bringing him.

MCGONAGALL: Do you think it wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?

DUMBLEDORE: Ah, Professor, I would trust Hagrid with my life.

Ron leans over to quip, "but not our secrets," to Hermione, who laughs. Harry barks a laugh, too, drawing back from his touch, and glancing over at a slightly ashen Neville to check on him. Neville gives him a thumbs up in response.

Several people aim them confused looks. None of them dignify them with a response of any sort. They'll come to understand eventually.

Aemond huffs and slumps back in his seat, still somehow straight-backed, folding his arms over his chest. Helaena flicks her eyes over to him for a moment.

The sound of a motor fills the room, and a motorcycle slowly descends from the sky.

A chorus of "what is that?" fills the room.

"A motorcycle, or motorbike," Hermione begins, and then pauses, looking at Thea, who could probably give a simpler explanation.

"A moving vehicle that's powered by fuel rather than being moved by a person or animal, in this case in the shape of a bike rather than a car, which is basically a metal carriage," Thea says, slightly detached, but without the statistical and historical reciting Hermione would offer.

The group looks blankly at her. Thea sighs.

"Powered by burning oil," she says patiently, in the simplest version (if not entirely accurate) she can give, "like a lamp, but instead it's in the engine, and it causes the wheels to move, without needing outside force to move it. Most of them don't fly."

"Then why does this one?" Lucerys asks eagerly.

Thea looks at Hermione this time, because her entire explanation would be magic.

"It likely has a levitating charm on the components," the witch clarifies, and goes to speak further, before pausing, likely coming to the conclusion that none of that would make sense to them, and also that a few of them are looking slightly faint at the idea.

"Magic," Joffrey whispers to his brothers. Jacaerys ruffles his hair in vague amusement.

A large man steps off and takes off his goggles.

HAGRID: Professor Dumbledore, Sir. Professor McGonagall.

DUMBLEDORE: No problems, I trust, Hagrid?

HAGRID: No, sir. Little tyke fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol. Heh. Try not to wake him. There you go.

A few people coo at the baby on the screen. Ron nudges Harry teasingly. "Look at you," he jokes quietly. "Back when you were all cute."

"That's you?" Aegon asks. He huffs when they ignore him, quietly joking with one another.

"Ah, my last peaceful sleep of almost two decades," Harry mock-sighs. Rhaenyra sends him a look that is part worried, and part disappointment. Oh, look at that. Already disappointed. Wow, that's faster than I expected.

"You really were a cute baby, Harry," Hermione says. "Like, c'mon, look at you. Chubby cheeks and-"

"Blood," Helaena interrupts.

They go silent.

She is staring at them, eyes fixed and yet distant in a way that reminds Harry of Luna. "That is your blood, your first spilled."

"Ah...well, maybe not my first, yknow, I probably grazed my knees or whatever-"

"As an infant?" Thea asks him under her breath.

"Your first blood of war."

Harry exchanges a look with Neville, the only other person in here close with Luna and therefore used to the more...divine and prophetic nature of things. "Oookay, yes, um, moving on-"

Hagrid hands over the baby.

MCGONAGALL: Albus, do you really think it's safe, leaving him with these people? I've watched them all day. They're the worst sort of Muggles imaginable. They really are...

"What does that mean?" Rhaenyra asks anxiously. Baelon - Harry - he's going to...what are muggles? Why are they so bad? "Why wouldn't you be safe?" Her father had wished for him to live and be safe, so surely-

Daemon smooths a hand down her arm to calm her. She glances over at him, catches sight of Baela fixing her gaze on Baelon like he's going to vanish in seconds, her arm through Rhaena's. "Did they hurt-?" She begins to ask, and then cuts herself off, likely remembering the no spoilers rule. Baelon - Harry - slants a look at her. Beside him, Ron has a pinched face, lips pursed, and that's really all Rhaenyra needs to know. She groans slightly. No, no, no.

Daemon grips her a little tighter, slightly warning her, slightly grounding her.

Daeron, however, notices the silent sigh Thea lets out, and how she quietly tucks her fingers into her sleeves for a moment. "You know something," he accuses under his breath, making sure no one else - other than Uncle Gwayne, and possibly Charlie - can hear.

"We all know something," she hisses back, but there's no anger in her voice, no malice. Just a bit of frustration, not fully covered up with her neutral tone.

"You know more," he persists, and people are starting to look at them now, and Uncle Gwayne smooths a hand down his back to remind him not to push it.

"You'll know more if you let us keep watching," Charlie interjects, his hand on Thea, as if keeping her safe, as if he doesn't trust them. Daeron presses his lips together. They can't hurt them - It had listed out the rules It wanted them to follow, and that was one of them.

"Harry," Neville asks quietly, "Harry, are you sure you can watch this?" Ron and Hermione are half barricading his body behind them so that no one can see him, letting the two keep privacy as best they can.

Harry glances over him. "Haven't got a choice, have I, Nev?" He asks, slightly bitterly. "A wish fulfillment, that apparently includes all of...this."

Neville watches him sadly as he waves a hand to encompass the projection. "Harry, it's going to be okay. You're never going back to them. You haven't communicated with them personally in ages-"

"I know!" He snaps quietly, and then takes a breath. "I know," he says softly. "But I'm not ready, and now I have to be."

DUMBLEDORE: The only family he has.

"Not true," Ron tells him fiercely. "You've got us."

Rhaenyra tries to catch his eye, as if to say, they aren't you real family, we are, you're my brother, but Harry is staring down at his hands. "I know," he says, half sharp, half grateful.

MCGONAGALL: This boy will be famous. There won't be a child in our world who doesn't know his name.

DUMBLEDORE: Exactly. He's better off growing up away from all that. Until he is ready.

He places the baby on the doorstep.

Rhaenyra sucks in a breath. "Surely that's not safe?" She asks Bael- Harry. She asks Harry.

"No, it's not," Hermione answers for him, her tone severe. "It was November, it would have been cold, you could have frozen, you could have crawled away, you could have been kidnapped-"

"They might not have taken you in at all," Neville realises quietly, "but this way they couldn't give you back."

The four stare at each other. Ron has a hand, flat, over Hermione's shoulder, and Neville is staring at the trio in concern and slowly mounting horror.

But it's Charlie who finally says, "that conniving son of a bitch."

"Language," one of the adults says automatically - maybe Gwayne, maybe Alicent - but the wix aren't really listening to them.

"Well, that's another reason to hate Halloween," Harry says despondently.

"This is November first," Hermione says automatically.

"Well, we hated that anyway," Harry quips, tossing a grin at Thea, who rolls her eyes, suppressing a smile. She makes a gesture at him that has him laughing, the tension not quite disappearing, but lessening slightly anyway.

She tosses her hair out of her face. "We don't hate it," she jokes, the first smile of this experience gracing her face, "it just gets ignored, aye?"

Charlie looks between them. "What's this?" He asks, as baffled as the rest of them.

Thea waves a hand. "My birthday, it's November first," she says, distracted, paying most of her attention to Harry. "Can't believe you got dumped by Dumbles...there...on that day."

Alicent shakes her head slowly as she takes in these...these magics, the heretics, or...whatever they are. Allegedly the girl isn't one, but the rest of them...

How are they so unconcerned with their friend being left out on the stones in the cold? She shudders to think what that would be like for her children, if they had been abandoned like that. It turns her stomach. She feels a stab of pity for them, and dismisses it as quickly as she can. He doesn't need pity, doesn't seem to want it, either. Across the room, Jacaerys holds his brothers closer, making eye contact with Baela. It's a horrible thought, losing their siblings, of them being given up and left behind for not reason.

"Why are they showing this?" Aegon whispers to Aemond. The younger boy goes to answer, but Helaena murmurs future is past, knowledge is change, and he shuts up, because if Helaena has an opinion on something, as cryptic as it may be, they have a tendency to listen to her.

DUMBLEDORE: There, there, Hagrid. It's not really goodbye, after all.

Hagrid nods, and as he sniffles, Dumbledore takes a letter and places it on the baby, who is now at the foot of the door.

"A letter," Hermione says flatly. "They want to explain all that in a letter?"

The group of six seem to have come to some sort of understanding, discussing everything quietly among themselves, not bothering with the larger group of Targaryens. Rhaenyra huffs. This is her brother's life. She wants to be included in whatever it is they're saying, their realisations, if only so she can launch herself across their existence to punch the offenders in the face. Daemon chuckles slightly besides her.

Joffrey sits forward. "Explain what?" He asks, eagerly, the most taken of the siblings in the story. Jacaerys leans down to hide his grin in his hair, Lucerys not bothering to muffle his own laughter. Joffrey pouts at them. "What?"

It's Thea who answers, not quite able to look at Joffrey, instead fixing her gaze on his older brother. "The events that lead him to being there."

With a frown, Joffrey looks up at Jacaerys. "Why won't she look at me?" He asks softly. Thea, overhearing, tenses slightly.

Harry leans forward to talk to him, softly. "It'll be explained later," he says, voice low so only he can hear, "but she knows-" the words vanish "-things that gives her more of an opinion on this than the rest of us," he decides to say instead. "Also, she's...seen some things. We all have." Harry shrugs. "You're just a little kid. It reminds us of stuff. Don't take it personally."

Thea looks over her shoulder to raise an eyebrow at Harry, who sticks his tongue out at her. She shakes her head, and glances at Joffrey. "What he said," she says shortly.

Harry leans back in his seat. Dead children. They've seen...so many dead children, and even more war worn. Joffrey is free from that. It sickens him slightly, to see the difference between him and the children back in Hogwarts, and Thea knows Targaryen history, to a degree. She knows what will happen to him.

DUMBLEDORE: Good luck... Harry Potter.

"That's you," Lucerys whispers quietly, leaning over to talk to Harry, as if they hadn't all confirmed that it was him earlier. Harry offers him a long suffering smile in response.

The baby has a set of lightning like scars on his forehead. The projection fades out.

"Those scars, how did you get it?" Aemond asks. His own scar throbs in remembrance, and he looks over at the boy marked like he is.

"Can't answer that," Ron jumps in, coming to Harry's rescue, and Aemond offers him a dark look in response. The redhead faces it straight on, unbothered.

Aemond says, slow and clipped, "I was not talking to you."

Harry shrugs and avoids his gaze. Thea had mentioned him a few times. Cunt faced one eyed kingslaying son of a bitch, she had called him, one of the more passionate things she has said about this...other version of his family. Usually she just stuck to calling people shitheads. But if there's anything he knows, from the brief things she had been willing to tell him after her knowledge gaining experience, it's that he's both dangerous and a tad pathetic. And that he's more willing to make enemies than friends. "He's right," he says, looking at his hands. "That's a really big spoiler."

Aemond sniffs and sits back, accepting that answer, which has Ron making an incredulous face at Hermione and then Neville. Charlie had given him a dark side eye, an icy look on his face, knowing more about it than any of the others, given his own dragon tamer status.

"Well, that took a little longer than expected," Hermione says, stepping in to diffuse the situation. "That's the first scene done, then, I suppose?"

"Obviously," Ron drawls, an imitation of Snape that has Neville, Hermione and Harry dissolving into giggles. Charlie slants a confused side eye at Thea, who shrugs in response, looking mildly baffled herself.

"I mean, Ronald," Hermione composes herself, "we ought to watch the next one, right?"

"Yes, we truly ought to," Charlie whispers, and Neville almost chokes as he dissolves back into laughter.

Rhaenyra resists the urge to slump in her seat. One scene. That was one scene. "Oh, I'm going to hate this," she murmurs. Daemon rubs her elbow as she sits up to catch her children's eyes. Checking on them. Making sure they're okay.

They go silent as the best scene comes into focus.