Made it out alive, but I think I lost it

Act One: A Lie

It all begins when the Dark Mark suddenly appears in the sky above the maze that is hosting the final round of the Triwizard Tournament.

The screams of hundreds of students and some adults are quick to follow, Harry is sure he saw Rita Skeeter running in the opposite direction at full speed, abandoning what would surely be the prime of her life. Other journalists seem to be more daring, however. Flashes are lost in the crowd of people who seem to want to run away and get as close to the maze as possible. Harry opts to stay put, though Hermione's tight grip on his arm doesn't allow him much freedom of movement either.

There are too many people in front of him to have a wide view of what's going on. Ron doesn't have the same problem. His friend is tall enough to see what Harry can't.

"Merlin!" Ron says, horrified. His pale skin turns even whiter, making the freckles on his cheeks stand out sharply.

“Ron?” Hermione says, her eyes shifting frantically between the maze and her friends. "What's wrong?"

"Diggory." Ron manages to say, pausing slightly. "I think...I think Diggory's dead."

Hermione doesn't have enough time to demand Ron to explain himself in a better way. The answers she seeks, however, come to her. Amos Diggory's scream is heartbreaking, entirely eclipsing the rest of the screams around him. The Dark Mark begins to dissipate after desperate attempts by Aurors who appear on the scene foolishly. No one seems to pay any attention to the attempted heroic entrance they tried to have, led by the Minister of Magic dressed for battle, as if the short, delicate man stood a chance against a Death Eater. Worse, Voldemort himself.

Harry dismisses his presence like everyone else. Turning his attention back to where, surely, Cedric Diggory's corpse lies.

Frankly, he doesn't know what to feel about it. In the four years he's spent at Hogwarts, Harry can't remember sharing more than three simple, disinterested greetings with Diggory, almost all after some Quidditch match. But he knows enough about him to understand that he was a good boy, a good student, and a good champion. Harry had been genuinely happy that the Hufflepuff had been chosen to represent Hogwarts. Regardless of knowing him, his death puts him in a state of shock that is difficult to process.

Because it's the first year Harry has had where he's not being forcibly thrown into the arms of death, or something like that. He was too happy being just another spectator at the tournament, laughing along with his friends in the stands, enjoying his classes, even the stupid Yule ball where he couldn't give Padma more than two miserable, embarrassing dances.

The Dark Mark in the sky and Cedric's death were, among many things, the sentence that Harry's life would take a turn that he had desperately tried to delay as long as possible.

“Oh, no.” Hermione's voice is cracked, and her eyes are full of tears as she watches Cho's figure kneeling next to Amos Diggory, her face completely pale and her long black hair on her cheeks, sticking to her skin thanks to the silent tears running down her face.

Harry can't help but feel a slight twinge of pain, too. Probably everyone there felt it in their hearts.

Harry is too immersed in his thoughts when the crowd begins to dissipate and the shouts turn to murmurs. Harry fears they're looking at him, when Seamus waves slyly at him, a reporter rushes up to him.

“Mr. Potter!” the man is smiling. Harry has no idea how he can smile in such a situation. “Mr. Potter, what can you tell the magical community to bring them hope after this unfortunate and frightening moment, how do you plan to rid our world of You-Know-Who?”

Harry is mute. The man looks at him as if in him lie the answers to the universe, as if at any moment he is going to drop to his knees and kiss his feet. He hasn't felt that way since Hagrid took him to the Leaky Cauldron when he was eleven.

Suddenly, everyone is looking at him the same way. Even Amos Diggory, who has gently dropped his son's body on the grass. Harry is about to ask what the hell he means when he reads it.

Dumbledore is holding the Hogwarts standard covered in blood. Clearly trying to hide the message written on the fabric, Harry can read it anyway.

The chosen one will come to me, or you will all die for him.

Well, fuck.

-

Harry doesn't answer any of the reporter's questions. However, his face is on the front page the next morning, along with the headline HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS.

Despite Professor McGonagall's best efforts, testimonies from at least a dozen Gryffindors are attached to the article. All praising Harry to the brink of ridiculousness. It is embarrassing and extremely intimidating to sit in the Great Hall at breakfast. Hermione and Ron do a great job of pretending not to notice the stares on them, but Harry has never been good at dealing with attention, and every so often he looks up from his plate to connect with the eyes of hundreds of people who seem to come to the verge of tears when they get a glimpse of a part of his face.

Harry means a lot of things, to tell you the truth. Starting with that they are, very obviously, in mourning. They are all wearing their black robes in honor of Cedric, and during the afternoon they would be holding a symbolic funeral in his honor, considering that his family has wished to honor him privately. The only one who seems clearly affected by the attitude of the rest is Cho, who has not stopped crying since the day before.

Somehow, they all seem to forget that yesterday the corpse of one of their own was resting on the Hogwarts lawn. The idea seems extremely ridiculous to Harry, but Ron raises his shoulders as he outwardly expresses his dismay.

“It's not like it's the first severely dangerous thing to happen in the castle.” He replies dismissively, trying to walk slower to match his and Hermione's steps. “One teacher was literally You-Know-Who, and in second year a giant snake almost killed my sister. Last year Sirius and the Dementors turned the corridors into a horror story. They're used to this. Besides.” Ron paused, looking around before lowering his voice. “It's easier for everyone to think you're going to figure it out, like you always do. You're the chosen one, so they trust you. Cheers, mate, we're here for you, as always.” Hermione nods, this time leaving the job of appeasing Harry's anxiety to Ron.

In a way, those words are not comforting.

-

Cedric's symbolic funeral ends almost as soon as it begins. Several of his classmates let out a few tears at Professor Sprout's speech, but that's about it. Most of them seem visibly more interested in what Professor Dumbledore has to say.

Harry keeps his gaze fixed on him, and keeps his face up as the man seems to be giving a war speech instead of an end-of-school-year one. The Gryffindors murmur words of admiration for Harry, but the professor's eyes don't once turn to look at him.

Unlike in past years, Harry is not called to the Headmaster's office before boarding the train. The lack of interest in Dumbledore talking to Harry begins to settle in the pit of his stomach. Harry is ready for whatever mission Dumbledore gives him, he is ready for whatever training the man has in store for him. Merlin, Harry has spent all night making peace with the idea that he's most likely going to die, but he's going to do it with honor. Like a good Gryffindor, like a good son, like his parents had also died, like a hero.

No matter how early he wakes up, however, Dumbledore doesn't look for him. And Harry boards the train back to the Dursley house deeply confused and mildly annoyed, because Voldemort is on the loose and Dumbledore seems to want to take a walk in the park rather than do anything about it.

Hermione and Ron notice his temper, and wisely decide to give him his space while they discuss their summer plans with Ginny. Harry refrains from participating in the conversation, although Hermione leaves several questions up in the air in the hope that Harry will show interest and participate. It doesn't happen, and the witch accepts defeat with a sigh and closes her eyes, settling into her seat to sleep for a while as they arrive at the station.

Vernon is waiting for him in the same place as last year. Visibly fatter, definitely more annoyed. The man is so red his face is about to explode. Harry is barely getting to where he is standing when he is grabbed hard by the shoulder and dragged out of the station quickly towards his, presumably, new car. Harry has never seen that car before.

Harry has not said goodbye to his friends properly. Vernon never gives him time to do so. And considering the little fuss he's had on the train, they go their separate ways with awkward silences and weird looks. Harry hopes they can resolve the misunderstanding through letters, most likely Hermione will write him one as soon as she gets home, so Harry doesn't worry so much.

Dudley and Petunia fail to accompany them, so the rest of the journey to Privet Drive passes between silences and hushed curses. Harry struggles to get out of the car, Vernon almost snatching his trunk and Hedwing's cage from his hands in an attempt to get Harry home as quickly as possible, desperate not to be seen with his weird, scrawny nephew, plus the owl.

Petunia stands in the doorway, dressed demurely and with her arms crossed.

“Boy.” She says. It's not a greeting, but with the Dursleys that's a hello. Harry greets her with a slight nod that makes her sneer. “I hope you don't give me any trouble this summer. I had enough of your stupid scene with Marge last year. She's coming to visit, and this time I expect you to be in your room. Quiet, under lock and key, and without any of your...weird stuff. Got it?”

Harry nods. Vernon smacks the back of his head. “Use your mouth, boy. Have a little decency with us, at least.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” Harry says, between his teeth. The woman rolls her eyes, but turns her gaze from Harry to Vernon, a loving smile forming on her thin face. Harry takes it as a sign to leave, apparently it is, because neither of them stops him from walking up the stairs. He doesn't make the mistake of taking his trunk with him, as he did in second year, but he does take Hedwig's cage. At least he can have the company of his pet in that depressing house.

Dudley is gone, so Harry locks himself in the room. It's dark, Vernon seems to have removed the lamp from his room on purpose, leaving him without much visibility at night. The place is dusty and smells musty, and thanks to the light coming through his window, Harry thinks he can even see the boxes with the Christmas decorations in one corner. The room sucks, but at least he wouldn't be spending too much time there.

Ron had promised him that Mr. Weasley would come for him in a week. Harry hoped to read in his morning letter about things they would be doing in the summer.

Harry falls asleep thinking about Dumbledore and Voldemort, until his mind takes him to better places; Quidditch, Sirius, and Mrs. Weasley's cooking....

-

Ron's letter doesn't arrive.

To tell the truth there are no letters coming to him. Nor from Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George. Painfully, neither from Sirius and Remus.

After a week of desperately looking out the window, and after countless trips by Hedwig carrying several letters asking what the hell was going on, dying of fear that Voldemort would attack one of them, unable to sleep because he immediately fell into an abyss of nightmares, Harry writes to Dumbledore.

Naturally, he doesn't receive an answer either.

As another week passes, and after frantically checking The Daily Prophet without finding any notice of disappearance or worse, death; Harry comes to the heartbreaking conclusion that they are ignoring him. He doesn't know why, he's not sure he wants to know, because right at that moment no excuse seems good enough to make him accept the attitude he feels he doesn't deserve.

On one of the nights when he can't sleep, tears cover his face and Hedwig stares at him. Foolishly, Harry thinks his owl wants to comfort him. The thought makes him cry even more.

-

Three weeks before the end of summer, Harry is sitting in the corner of his room staring at an unspecified point, tired and fatigued from not being able to sleep, when the locks on his door begin to fall off one after another.

The clear display of magic ridiculously startles him, but he doesn't stand up. In a way, he's not scared. If a Death Eater were behind his door, Harry wouldn't still be alive deliberating who it is.

When the last lock falls and the door opens, Remus is there.

Surprisingly, the man looks more broken than usual. And the dark circles under his eyes seem to rival Harry's. The smile he directs at him doesn't reach his eyes. The little sincerity in it makes Harry's heart ache. “Hello, cub.”

“Remus.” Harry's voice is husky. This is to be expected, as Harry makes sure he doesn't open his mouth other than to answer affirmatively to whatever Vernon or Petunia orders him to do. With no reply from Ron, Harry was unwilling to antagonize the Dursleys, who hated him, to torture him any more than the silent treatment from his family members were already torturing him. “Fancy seeing you around, really.”

Remus has the nerve to look embarrassed, and with his wand he brightens the room a little more. Harry doesn't take his eyes off his former professor, feeling a strange satisfaction as he watches the man's face go from embarrassment to horror.

“It's better than a cupboard under the stairs.” Harry says casually, getting to his feet. Remus lets out a sound similar to one of pain. Frankly, at that moment Harry doesn't care. “The humidity is fine, at least I have a window.” He discreetly shakes out his pants, though there is a trace of dried dirt on them. “Okay, what about the rest of you, where are you going to take me?”

Remus looks at Harry oddly. Harry is sick of not recognizing the emotion on the man's face. “Uh...it's just me, Harry.”

“Oh.” Harry says. Somehow, he's not surprised by it all. “Well, it must be as a precaution. I haven't read of attacks in The Daily Prophet, but I don't wish to cross paths with a bunch of Death Eaters either. Are we going to the Burrow?”

Remus, again, seems to struggle with his own words. Harry doesn't speak again. Clearly everything he suggests is wrong, so he stands dumbly in anticipation of Remus...doing something, at least. “No, Harry.” He pauses, before adding. “Dumbledore asked me to take you to the ministry. The new Minister of Magic, Kingsley, has scheduled an appointment for you.”

Harry cocks his head with interest, after the eternal silence from Dumbledore and his friends, at least now Harry has a bit of answers.

At least they were ignoring him in favor of getting him something to help him defeat Voldemort. Harry forgives them a little in his heart.

“Okay.” Harry says, softly. “My things are in the cupboard under the stairs.”

Remus looks at him for a few seconds, before speaking. “I know, Harry.”

The trip to the ministry is extremely uncomfortable. It's clear that Remus is hiding something from him, considering that the man hasn't stopped looking everywhere but at Harry. It's a hundred times worse than being ignored through letters. Several times Harry is about to bring the subject up for consideration, but Remus' panicked expression destroys any and all of his courage.

Anxiety begins to bubble in his chest, and he has a feeling that whatever is waiting for him at the Ministry, he's not going to like it. Remus apparently knows it too, and is visibly terrified of Harry's reaction.

None of it helps him, really.

Given the hour, the ministry is nearly empty. Harry would find himself fascinated by the place if he wasn't on the verge of a panic attack. He feels almost paranoid, because he can swear that the few people roaming the corridors look vaguely familiar, and his mind takes him back to the day Cedric died, and a bunch of Aurors filled Hogwarts.

Aurors. Harry can breathe a little easier. At least Dumbledore isn't senile enough to only send Remus to guard Harry when Voldemort is mad to kill him.

His momentary moment of peace dies all too quickly. Remus stops suddenly in one of the corridors.

Dumbledore is there, waiting for him. Next to him, Snape, and in front of him...Harry must control his features so he doesn't open his mouth dumbly. Neville stands awkwardly without making eye contact with anyone, but sensing Dumbledore movement, he raises his head and exclaims. “Harry!”

Harry smiles back, though his smile is filled with confusion. Moving closer, Harry manages to observe the woman behind Neville. Augusta Longbottom looks Harry up and down, and he feels all too aware of the dirt stains on his pants and the musty smell that must be coming from his shirt. Unlike her grandson, she doesn't wave at Harry, and he fears the awkward silence will last longer when Dumbledore suddenly claps his hands.

“Now that the parties involved and of interest are present, may we proceed with the petition, dear Amelia?” Dumbledore asks, a door Harry had not seen behind Dumbledore opens.

“It's not that I denied your request because I wished it, Dumbledore.” The woman at the door says, with some annoyance. “It's because it was against protocol. Mr. Potter was supposed to be present as well. There are rules, Dumbledore, and no matter how much you wish it, you are not exempt from them.” The woman turns away, but leaves the way clear for them to enter the odd room. “And it's Madam Bones. I haven't been your student for almost fifteen years.”

Harry walks side by side with Neville, the adults taking the lead. Harry takes the opportunity to whisper. “Hey Nev, how's your summer going, any idea what we're doing here?” he tries to break the ice, ignoring that Neville is dressed like he's going to a banquet compared to the rags Harry wears.

Neville lifts his shoulders. “Dumbledore has visited my house almost every day. My grandmother has gone so far as to ask me not to leave my room in the hopes that I won't hear anything they talk about, as if I could spy between their protective barriers, honestly.” Neville rolls his eyes. “And I don't know mate, I've been here once, but Madam Bones denied us entry, no one explains anything to me, and my grandmother told me not to ask, so.” Neville gestures with his hands. Harry is about to respond when Neville's grandmother turns to look at them angrily.

The room is filled with large shelves that Harry sees no end to, no matter how hard he tries to focus his eyes upward. Most are covered in black cloth, but some are not, and Harry sees strange gray orbs lined up perfectly one after the other. He's about to ask what those things are when Madam Bones stops in front of one of the cloth-less shelves, the adults stop too, but take slight steps back. Remus stretches out his hand towards Harry inviting him closer, and with hesitant steps he approaches towards the shelf, Neville following behind him.

Dumbledore keeps his eyes fixed between the two.

Madam Bones looks at them seriously. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, this is the Department of Mysteries, Prophecies Wing. Per Protocol, only those in possession of a prophecy may enter here, accompanied by two witnesses to vouch for the authenticity of the prophecy.” The woman pauses. “The prophecy of interest has two or more names, so its content is doubtful. If you would be so kind, could you please try to hold the orb?”

Harry averts his gaze to the orb in front of him. There is a small silver plaque at the base.

The Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter (?) Neville Longbottom

Harry's heart begins to pound, and Neville looks at him nervously, his face completely pale.

“We don't have all night, Mr. Potter.” Snape says, his deep voice full of boredom. “Take the orb so we can go, like normal people, to rest.”

Harry glares at him, but reaches out and takes the orb.

He has no idea what's supposed to happen, because the orb doesn't leave the base, and Harry turns so fast his neck hurts when he hears the sound of disbelief and pain Remus lets out. Snape, for the first time since Harry has known him, has a different expression than the one of hatred and disdain he wears all the time, and Dumbledore...Dumbledore isn't looking at him.

Dumbledore is looking at Neville.

Harry slowly releases the orb, his hand moving so slowly that he almost doesn't feel it hit his side. Agusta Longbottom pushes Neville slightly forward, and he frantically denies again and again until, in desperation, he quickly grabs the orb.

The orb turns turquoise blue, and moves as Neville's hand moves. Harry barely hears the voice coming out of the orb as a result of the loud ringing that bothers his ears. He feels like he's going to vomit.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

A flash at Harry's side makes him turn around, the prophecy label has changed.

The Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom.

“Does that answer your questions, Dumbledore?” the voice of Madam Bones snaps him out of his shock, Harry feels the woman's gaze on him. Despite still wearing her serious face, her eyes seem to show genuine concern for Harry.

“Yes.” Dumbledore says, without looking away from Neville. “More than one, Madam. More than one.”

-

Agusta Longbottom is furious.

Dumbledore tries to appease the woman outside the Department of Mysteries, both of them talking behind a protective barrier hurriedly. It's more of an argument on Agusta's part than Dumbledore's.

Harry is standing next to Remus, staring up at Neville, who is so pale he looks like a ghost. Harry can feel his hands shaking, and tears itching at the side of his eyes. Remus gives him a sidelong glance, but Harry doesn't take his eyes off Neville. “You'll be fine, Harry.” Remus says, gently. Concern overflowing in his expression. “Everything will be fine, I promise.”

Harry doesn't understand what will be alright. Harry doesn't understand what Remus is trying to solve with those words.

When Harry finally stops staring at Neville, his eyes meet Snape's.

That, somehow, is a thousand times worse.

-

Harry is almost in a trance when Remus takes him by the arm, murmurs a few words in his ear, and leads him to a place he doesn't recognize at all.

The house is too old, the smell of old paint and dust accumulated on the sides of the walls is undeniable. Harry doesn't know where to go, what to say, or what to feel. Remus seems to be his lifeline at that moment; for he gently leads him down a small hallway of the house. He offers no explanation, but at least he doesn't leave him standing in the same place.

Reaching the foot of a long staircase, Harry swears to see locks of red hair before disappearing altogether.

“He's just a boy!” Sirius' voice is heard up ahead. Harry's urge to meet his godfather, after...after....

Harry ignores Remus' calls behind him. He pushes open the door to the room with quickened, ragged breaths. Before he sees Sirius, Harry sees Dumbledore. The man is sitting at the head of the table, grim-faced. Harry instantly sees red.

He is choked with anger as he rushes at the man. Harry feels the skin on his neck hot, and his hands tremble as he holds the Headmaster's robes, his teeth clattering against each other from the trembling of his jaw. “What. The. Fuck. Was. That.”

“Language!” Mrs. Weasley scolds in the distance. Harry struggles hard not to turn around and yell at her to shut up.

Dumbledore is watching him with sadness and regret and when he looks down, Harry is sure he is going to kill the man that night. Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for Harry, the words leave his lips. “It's a long story.”

“And I have time.” Harry quickly replies. “I haven't slept well in weeks. And I don't think my body wants to sleep today. I recommend you start talking.”

Harry must not sound too threatening in his current state, in all honesty. But the anger he feels is too great to think about the technicalities. Little does he care about the terrible clothes he wears, or the state of his hair and face. Little does he care that his collarbones stand out between the collar of the large shirt he wears, or that he doesn't even have his wand at hand. He doesn't need a wand to kill someone. Harry has survived with his bare hands for almost fifteen years. He's been a human longer than he's been a wizard.

Harry has always been a savage, according to Vernon.

“I'm afraid it's not a very good story.” Dumbledore jokes, but Harry doesn't laugh. Slowly, he lets go of the man's robes and takes a seat next to him. Harry scans the people in the room with his eyes. Sirius is at the other end, Remus beside him. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley near them.

Harry looks at Dumbledore again, expectantly. “Tell me.” His voice falters, but he maintains what little dignity he has left. “I want to hear it from you. You owe me. You owe me at least that much.”

His words seem to have the necessary effect on the man; for Dumbledore begins to speak after long seconds of silence.

It is too long a story. The beginning he already knows.

Tom Riddle. An Orphan. The Dark Lord. Harry's worst nightmare. James and Lily Potter. His parents.

That's when the story changes. Suddenly, Alice and Frank Longbottom appear on the scene.

Dumbledore speaks of a prophecy. Of two possible child protagonists of it. He speaks of mistakes and assumptions, he speaks of poor judgment and the greater good. To tell the truth, it almost all sounds to him like a terrible joke of poor taste. It all sounds like a bunch of nonsense and Harry finds himself laughing at the end of the story because disbelief eats him up inside and he feels like he is about to go mad.

Dumbledore seems distraught by his reaction, as do the rest of the people in the room.

His laughter soon turns to crying and the crying soon turns to a frustration-filled scream.

“Let me get this straight.” Harry says, glaring at the man who just ripped his life to shreds. “You assumed the prophecy was about me, so you never tried to confirm that it was.”

“Tom went to the house...”

“And Bellatrix Lestrange went to Neville's.” Harry interrupts, his voice filled with venom. “He went to both of us. He had a plan for both of us.”

Dumbledore doesn't deny it. Harry turns his gaze away, his lips pressed tightly together.

“The prophecy is not about me.” Harry says, suddenly. Saying it out loud is enough to make the obvious ring true, finally. “What made you suspect it wasn't about me?” His eyes meet Dumbledore's. His question seems to pleasantly surprise him. “Don't look at me like that. You've ignored me since the end of the school term. You've been suspicious since that time, haven't you? Even before, I imagine.”

“The way he used to come back is not what I predicted.” He admits, with no remorse. “He's so arrogant that he would use any method necessary to prove he's superior to you. But he decided on a different method, because...”

“Because it's not me he wants.” Harry finishes for him. “So I'm not necessary to him.”

“I'm afraid that is the case, my boy.”

Dumbledore replies, gently. His vague attempt at empathy makes Harry's blood boil. “It seems to me that he has known that since first year, if I am not mistaken.”

Harry nods. Because his life can't get any worse.

“But Harry is The Boy Who Lived.” Mrs. Weasley interrupts, her face concerned. “Surely, that must mean something.”

“It does.” Sirius says. His eyes set on Dumbledore. “Tell him, Dumbledore. Tell him what you think it means.”

Harry returns his gaze to Dumbledore. The man seems to visibly age.

“Tom experimented...with a certain kind of magic when he was young. Dark magic, forbidden magic.” Dumbledore hesitates. Harry knows he's not going to tell the truth, at least, not all of it. “When he went that night to the Potters' house, I have a theory that he used this magic.”

Harry raises an eyebrow.

Dumbledore looks at Harry's forehead. “He cursed your body with Dark magic. I thought that; having chosen you, the only way to remove all traces of it was to die by his hand. But he didn't choose you, so we can get rid of the trace of magic he left in your body. It's painful and dangerous, but I know a group that specializes in curses that will make sure everything goes smoothly, Harry.”

Harry blinks. “You were planning for me to die.”

At the lack of response, Harry repeats. “All this time, you've been waiting for Voldemort to kill me.”

“Harry, no.” Dumbledore says, reaching out to touch him. Harry recoils, as if his touch burns. “You don't understand, let me...”

“Stop it.” Harry says, between his teeth. “That's enough. You've said all I need to know.”

Harry stands up; feeling suddenly lost. “Okay. I get it. I'm not the chosen one, Neville is. Wonderful.” He nods, staring at the Headmaster. “And this curse, can you really remove it without killing me? Or should I leave a will?” His words are sarcastic, and Sirius bangs the table loudly in complete outrage.

“Over my dead body!” The words accompanied by a face contracted in fury and madness do little to nothing in Harry's heart. Sirius didn't write to him in the summer either. He still has some explaining to do.

“You'll be fine, my boy.” Harry doesn't believe him at all, honestly, Harry doesn't believe anyone at such times. “We can perform the procedure tomorrow, if you wish.”

“Cool.” Harry replies. Turning to look at Sirius, he says. “I imagine this is your house, where can I stay in the meantime?”

“Ron's at...” Mrs. Weasley is quick to say, Harry denies.

“Yeah, no.” He walks over to the door, grabbing the knob. “I want to be alone.”

Dumbledore's face darkens. Harry leaves the room, ignoring the voices of the adults calling him back, Sirius following close behind.

Sirius leads him down a long corridor, looking around worriedly, until he comes upon a room hidden among hundreds of paintings covered in black cloth. Harry refrains from blurting out any words, because it would probably end too badly between Sirius and him.

Sirius doesn't think so, apparently.

His godfather closes the door and casts a few spells that Harry doesn't show the slightest interest in acknowledging. He suddenly feels cornered, between four walls and with too much information in his head and one of the people who left him alone at the Dursleys' without a single letter and...

“I'm terribly sorry, Harry.” Sirius' voice is full of guilt, as he raises his hands in the air as if wanting to show Harry that he's not going to hurt him. “Dumbledore called us in for a meeting at the beginning of the summer and said it was too dangerous to contact you while he was sorting this whole thing out. I wanted to contact you, I really did, but I'm still a convict, Prongs. Any false move put you at risk and put me at risk. I can't protect you from Azkaban, and I wasn't going to risk leaving you alone in this pandemonium.” His words are vaguely convincing, but not convincing enough. The prolonged silence awaiting the younger boy's response makes Sirius feel the need to continue. “Prongs, I would never do anything to deliberately hurt you. You are, next to Remus, the only family I have left. Please, you have to believe me.”

“You were going to let him kill me?” Harry mutters, almost without thinking. The simple question seems to shock Sirius, who denies frantically.

“Of course not!” His response is immediate. “I had no idea about Dumbledore's stupid plan, Harry. No one did. If your parents...if I had known what Dumbledore was planning for you, we would have run too far away. From everything, everyone. We had no idea.” Harry raises his head, his eyes meeting his godfather's. The feeling of desolation growing inside him. “Dumbledore has shown his cards because Voldemort has given him no choice. He has ruined all his plans, and consequently we find ourselves here.”

Harry holds the edges of his stained, old shirt.

Suddenly, his life makes no sense. Because before he was a nobody, and then he was Freak, and then he was Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One.

He had spent years surviving in his own skin, carrying his parents' mourning like a badge of honor, carrying the hopes of the magical world and the thirst for vengeance of the pile of victims of the vicious war he'd been thrown into since his conception. And suddenly, Harry is a nobody again.

And it's heartbreaking and too unfair, though he doesn't want to feel that way. Because then it means that he lost his parents in vain, that each and every day at the Dursleys' house, suffering hunger and abuse in exchange for protection, was unnecessary. Harry didn't have to live the life he did. Harry did not have to end up like this.

Sirius' arms wrap around him in a tight embrace, an embrace he didn't know he needed, an embrace that hurts as much as the invisible needles pricking his heart. He doesn't know how long they stay in that position, or at what point they end up lying on the wooden floor; it could be minutes or hours, Sirius never softens the embrace. And Harry decides to pretend, at least for that night, that his world hasn't ended.

-

Sirius leaves the room in the early morning, after long hours in which Harry manages to regain control over himself. His godfather really doesn't want to leave him alone, but Remus' insistence at the door requesting his presence in the meeting room is too much to ignore. Harry insists that it's okay, that being alone for a while is going to help him, Sirius leaves reluctantly and unconvinced.

The loneliness doesn't stay with him for too long, a few minutes later, just as he expected, Ron and Hermione are at the door.

He's not as stupid as Snape thinks he is. Ron's unmistakable hair was the one he had seen on the second floor in the night, though his friend had made the best of attempts at hiding.

Harry does not open the door. They can't open it either, even with the help of Fred and George, who use their wands to try to force the doorknob. None of that works; Sirius has taken him to what used to be the room of the head of the Black household, and it is replete with protective spells that would prevent the entry of anyone behind the door. When they give up, Harry thinks they will leave, they don't.

“Harry!” Hermione's desperate voice echoes off the old walls. “Harry, we didn't mean to, Dumbledore ordered us discretion. Mrs. Weasley would confiscate our owls if she caught us sending letters.”

The repeated mention of Dumbledore and the man's role in what seems to be the end of Harry's life cause the hatred for the man to rise to outrageous levels. Dumbledore was almost like a father figure to him, even more so than Sirius himself, the Headmaster had been his role model and practically a hero to him; now he wanted the man as far away from him as possible.

“Harry, mate, you need to get out.” Ron tries to act convincing. Harry can almost accurately picture his friend's posture behind the door, hands inside his pockets, a lopsided grin as if the whole thing was Harry's tantrum. “We understand that all of this has to be difficult for you. Professor Dumbledore has explained to us what has happened, you don't have to face all of this alone.”

Harry is tempted to open the door. But he remembers that Ron and Hermione have no problem breaking the rules, because they've done it countless times before in order to help Harry. This time, they've simply decided on their own to leave him in the dark for most of the summer.

Ron's words are not convincing, he practically just revealed that both he and Hermione knew that Harry is not the Chosen One. Probably all the Weasleys knew it.

It doesn't surprise him if the whole magical world already knows. As always, Harry is the last to know about the important things, because Harry doesn't matter anymore. Harry is no one anymore.

His friends keep trying to convince him to step out. Harry covers his ears, sinking into his thoughts once again.

The next person is Sirius, again.

His godfather asks him to come out, not to convince him to talk to the others, but because Dumbledore requires his presence. Harry is tempted to refuse, because he doesn't want to follow any orders from the man. But there is a curse on his body, and the Headmaster had promised to free Harry from it today.

With slow steps, Harry opens the door to the room. Next to Sirius, stands Remus. Both seem seriously concerned for his well-being, but Harry stands silently waiting to be led to wherever he is required. Sirius seems resigned to his behavior, and walks towards one of the many rooms in the gloomy house.

It looks like a dueling room with a improvised examination table, Dumbledore is standing next to Snape, who looks, surprisingly, as if he has had absolutely no sleep at all. A group of healers look at Harry in a calculating manner, and there are even two Goblins holding a metal tray with a knife and a stone that looks suspiciously like a jewel.

“My boy, are you sure you want to perform the procedure today? You can rest as long as you need to, and do this later.”

“No.” Harry denies, approaching the table. “Now, it must be now.” His answer does not make Dumbledore happy. That hardly matters to him.

The healers explain a few things to him, Harry hears half of it and the rest he doesn't. His gaze lingers on the Headmaster, as if daring him to stop it. The healers tell him it will hurt, but Harry barely blinks. There is nothing in Harry's body that doesn't already hurt.

However, when one of them points his wand at Harry's forehead, and begins to speak in a language he doesn't recognize, the pain that shoots through him sends him falling to his knees from the table. The screams that come from his throat are involuntary, and when his vision blurs he does not know if he is dreaming, hallucinating or if Lord Voldemort is really in front of them.

Harry Potter. The voice echoes even louder than the screams Harry keeps on shouting. A pig raised as a substitute. A nobody. You've lost everything at the hands of the person you trusted the most.

Sirius tries to approach him, terrified. The voice echoes again. Isn't it better to die, Harry Potter? Isn't it better to die than to live with this desolation? Don't you wish to die with me? Then at least your life would have meant something.

Harry almost nods, almost lets out the last of his breath. Someone pulls him by the collar of his shirt and slaps him. Severus Snape screams too close to his face. “Don't you dare, Potter - don't you dare die in front of me!”.

His distraction is helpful to the healers, apparently. Because the Hallucination-projection-whatever that was-disappears with a scream and the rumbling of walls. A flash makes him look up at the Goblin shakily holding the strange jewel that absorbs the black mist before slamming the knife hard into the middle of it, crumbling it apart.

One of the healers tilts his head, as if the result is a total surprise. “Hot goblin metal with Fiendfyre. How did you know it would work?” he says, turning to look at Dumbledore, as the rest of the healers rush to lift Harry carefully, examining his face. Harry almost jumps at the strange touch, but when he feels the raw drops of blood fall from his forehead, he knows they are trying to stop the bleeding.

Sirius jumps at Dumbledore. “You didn't know if it would work?!” He yells, and suddenly they're all screaming and blaming each other. Harry is in shock, shaking, and Snape is holding him so tightly as if to make sure he was still breathing.

Chaos dies after long minutes where Sirius chases almost everyone out of the house, including the Weasleys, but restrains one of the healers, ordering him to make sure Harry's heart is still beating. Even more strangely, Snape stays by his side.

-

THE CHOSEN ONE, NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!

THE- BOY-WHO-LIVED-IS-NO- MORE! HARRY POTTER FREE OF THE DARK CURSE!

An article by Rita Skeeter

-

Act Two: A Truth

Harry doesn't bother to read the most recent headlines in the Daily Prophet, but that doesn't matter, because Remus makes sure to repeat them aloud at lunchtime for everyone.

It is a strange group who remains in the Black's house. Sirius and Remus do their best to pretend that everything is fine, but Severus Snape's presence is so strange and stupid that Harry lets out a laugh the first time he sees him sitting in one of the chairs at breakfast. Kreacher keeps making derogatory comments about everyone, which makes everything even more surreal.

Dumbledore and the Weasleys do not return. Harry doesn't ask why. Harry hardly speaks to any of them, but as if Snape can see the questions rattling around in his head, every now and then he blurts out comments with sleep-depriving information. That is why he knows they are all at the Longbottom ancestral home, apparently the designated new hiding place of the light. Agusta Longbottom's condition for letting her grandson be the symbol Dumbledore wants him to be is absolute protection and the best of training.

Dumbledore had only offered Harry the Dursleys. But that's okay, it didn't matter at all anymore.

Remus has mail ordered all of Harry's things for the new school year and even with that, at one of the dinners, Sirius clears his throat and Harry raises his head. “You know Harry, if you don't want to go back to Hogwarts, that's fine. We can transfer you to Beauxbatons if you want. Or we can homeschool you and you can take your exams at the ministry when you're ready.”

Harry blinks in confusion. Snape continues. “If you do not wish to return to Hogwarts, I can teach you here. This place lacks...the correct equipment for teaching. But I can provide whatever you need to make your knowledge decent and acceptable.”

“Why?” Harry asks, suddenly. Everyone stops in their movements, looking at Harry in surprise. Harry reddens, aware that he has spent a very, very long time in silence. But everyone's attitude is starting to tire him out, Remus pacing carefully the whole time, as if he's afraid he'll make some noise that will make Harry angry and he'll explode. He's getting a little fed up with being treated like a shell about to crack. It doesn't help him at all, doesn't help him feel better at all. Bringing the spoon to his mouth, he speaks after swallowing his bite. “Is there something I'm running away from so I won't go back to Hogwarts, like a coward? Last time I looked, it's not me a power-hungry madman wants to kill.” Sirius shifts uncomfortably in his seat, Harry rolls his eyes and averts his gaze to Snape. “Besides, Professor. Among all the stupid and crazy things that have happened to me lately, you being here playing family with us is at the top. You loathe me, why are you still here, and why are you trying to help me?”

Snape drops his forks and spoons delicately onto his plate, before grimacing in disdain.

Well, Harry is more familiar with that. “Why, Potter. Because you've demonstrated to me quite graphically that you need supervision or you're going to make an attempt on your life like the arrogant child you are.” Harry is about to retort when Snape holds up his hand, silencing him. “I'm here because I've made a mistake with you, Potter. And unlike Albus Dumbledore, I plan to remedy that mistake with my life and blood, and to the last of my breath. Mr. Longbottom has all the help he needs. You, on the other hand, need me. So take your silverware, stop making that face, and eat.” Snape turns, to look at Sirius and Remus. “I told you pair of imbeciles that if you kept treating him this way things would turn out badly. What the boy needs is not this act of compassion and pity. It's Potter, treat him like you always do. That's going to help him.”

The smile Harry lets slip as Sirius and Remus fell silent at the scolding was not lost on anyone, not even Kreacher, who pours one more piece of cake onto Harry's plate.

Harry talks some more. He accompanies Remus on his reading afternoons and even, to his own surprise, participates in Snape's potions practice. The dynamic between them all is bizarre enough to overcome even their wildest dreams. But it's okay, and Harry's heart feels a little less hurt.

The night before boarding the train, Harry breaks any truce of calm when, hesitantly, he asks. “Now that Neville is the chosen one, what will happen to me?” Sirius looks at him questioningly, Harry takes it as an invitation to continue. “I've spent more time than him doing this, I should help him, shouldn't I?  Maybe I can...”

“No.” Remus' words are firm. His eyes even sparkle. “You're not going to do anything, Harry.”

“What? But...”

“No.” Snape agrees. “Your job, Potter; is to finish your studies like all other normal students with satisfactory grades. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Blinking in disbelief, Harry turns to look at Sirius, as if expecting Sirius to support him. Sirius denies and Harry's smile disappears completely. “How can I not help him? Neville...Neville has a lot of fears, Professor, you know that perfectly well!” Harry tries to explain, suddenly feeling overly concerned for his well-being. “Surely Dumbledore understands and will ask me to...”

“No.” Now it is Sirius who interrupts him. “Dumbledore doesn't have to ask you for anything. Rather, he shouldn't.” At Harry's confused silence, Sirius sighs. “Dumbledore and this war has done enough for you. It doesn't concern you, Harry. It has nothing to do with you anymore, or us. You are Neutral, you answer to neither the light nor the dark, do you understand? So your only job is to go and have a romance or two, I don't know what teenagers do these days.”

Harry opens and closes his mouth in disbelief. The subject is more than over, considering Snape begins to give Remus and Sirius instructions on what to do with his improvised laboratory during his absence for the school term. Harry eats in silence, terribly conflicted about the whole thing.

The next morning, Snape offers to appear with him directly at Hogsmade with a small, soft tone of concern in his voice, Harry politely declines the offer.

It has been three weeks since the catastrophe, Harry is feeling better, and wants to apologize to Ron and Hermione for his behavior the day he arrived home. His friends must have been as shocked as he was with so many startling revelations and he had been too hard on them. Perhaps a train ride together might appease the awkwardness between the three of them.

It definitely wouldn't be a pleasant trip, Harry can almost imagine the number of stares and people who will want to come up and talk to him on the train. Sirius has intercepted all his mail and Harry hasn't had a chance to read any hate and disappointment letters from anyone, but he has spent almost every night preparing for it. Harry is the best at adapting. Harry has always known how to survive.

Remus takes him to the station too early, probably worried about running into a crowd. Sirius seems devastated that he can't join them to see Harry off, but wraps him in a tight hug before letting him go. Promising, holding his hands carefully, that this time he will write so many times that Harry's hands will bleed from so many letters he will have to answer.

The station is nearly deserted, and Harry swallows as a family looks at him intently, but to his surprise, they turn disinterestedly to the other side. Remus gives him a hug too, seeming to want to stay longer, but Harry doesn't want to risk some parent recognizing him and panicking about his status as a werewolf. So he bids him farewell and Harry enters the train, sitting in one of the last compartments that will allow him to watch when his friends arrive.

As the hour passes, more and more people arrive, and a mass of unmistakable red hair begins to make its presence known. Harry lets out a smile. Settling back in his seat, Harry prepares to apologize and looks expectantly at the compartment door, when Hermione's face peers through the glass, Harry raises his hand to wave when the witch's eyes widen like wide plates and she walks hurriedly in the opposite direction. Ron looks at her in confusion, but when he sees who is inside the compartment, he turns so pale that his freckles stand out, following Hermione quickly.

Harry's heart flips. His friends do not return.

Harry deflates in his seat, and feels as if he wants to cry, but doesn't know why.

A light knock on the compartment door brings him out of his thoughts, and he directs what is surely a strange, uncomfortable smile at the people waiting at the door.

A girl with reddish blonde hair and a blonde are standing in the doorway, smiling slowly. “Good morning, do you mind if we sit here?”

Harry denies, stretching his arm out in invitation awkwardly. The girls take a seat, closing the door with a light click. Harry is sure they are in his year, and feels terribly embarrassed that he can't remember their names. The girls seem to feel sorry for him, and smile kindly. “It seems to me that we haven't had the honor of having a friendly conversation before. I'm Susan Bones, and this is Hannah Abbot.”

Harry smiles, nodding. “Uh, yeah. I'm Harry. Uh, Potter.” Hannah tilts her head, fascinated with the interaction. Harry wants to bang his head against the glass at his silliness. Now he remembers them, they had both accompanied Justin to the infirmary after nearly fainting in a panic when Harry accidentally made him think he would throw a snake to hurt him. “My pleasure.”

“Likewise.” Susan says, settling into her seat. Harry doesn't know what to say or how to act, because he's spent all his years at Hogwarts surrounded by his vicious, territorial friends, and he's never really been that interested in socializing, considering they all seemed to want to know something about the night his parents had died. Harry doesn't know what Susan and Hannah want to ask him, and he's sure Susan is related to Madam Bones, so surely it must be something about the prophecy. Harry doesn't want to talk about it, Harry doesn't know what he should or shouldn't say. Snape has given him no instructions on how to react to the questions.

His nervousness, however, is misplaced. Hannah breaks each and every one of his worries with a simple question. “Do you think our end-of-year exams will be that hard?”

“Hannah!” Susan complains, crossing her arms. “By Merlin! We're still on the train, let me enjoy the ride to Hogwarts before you worry about final exams, the year's about to start!”

The witches in front of him break into a heated discussion about the importance of education, under Harry's stupefaction. Foolishly, he begins to answer the barrage of questions they both ask him in hopes of being the winner of the argument. It's all so far-fetched that Harry finds himself saying. “I thought you wanted to know something about the prophecy.”

Susan blinks, before raising her eyebrow skeptically. “Do you want us to ask you about it?”

“No!” Harry replies immediately, causing Susan to wave her hand, as if wanting to say so? “If it's not that, why are you here?”

Hannah pouts with pity. “Ow, Harry. You're really breaking my heart. You look like an abandoned owl, please stop.” Harry has no idea what an abandoned owl looks like to begin with. “Well, your guardian has aligned House Potter as a neutral house. We are neutral house children; by obviousness, we should get along with each other.” Susan slaps her on the knee, Hannah winces in mock pain. “That's what adults think, of course. The truth is, even though you're neutral now if we didn't want to we wouldn't be here. But hey, we like you. And you looked pretty sad sitting there all alone. We decided to keep you company while your friends come get you, or something.”

Susan nods, as if the image of Harry alone is something extremely heartbreaking. “My friends aren't coming.” Harry says, feeling uncomfortable. “They, uhm, came by and left.”

Susan seems to contemplate the information, her gaze now filled with gloom. “Oh.” She says, but doesn't elaborate further.

Harry thinks the girls will get up and leave, but they don't. They resume their fight about final exams, as if nothing happened.

Somehow, Harry ends up joining in as well.

-

The ride to Hogwarts this time is by carriage. Susan and Hannah drag him along without asking him if he wants to go with them, and he decides to let them do whatever they want, considering he doesn't see Ron and Hermione anywhere. Harry thinks they are going alone when the carriage door suddenly opens, and a Slytherin sits down with them. Harry immediately tenses up, adopting a defensive posture.

Susan snorts, and looks at the intruder with annoyance, but not as if she hates his presence. Harry is definitely interested in how a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin become acquainted.

“Zabini!” Hannah says, styling her long blonde hair. “I thought you were going to look for us on the train, does your girlfriend beat you?”

Zabini rolls his eyes, but closes the carriage door and the carriage starts to go. “Pansy wouldn't hate you so much if you hadn't kissed me at her birthday party.”

“It was a game!” Hannah repeats with annoyance, as if that's a tired, recurring conversation. “We were twelve, for Merlin sake!”

“Tell her that, not me.” Zabini focuses his gaze on Harry, and Harry lifts his chin, challenging him. Zabini smirks. “But if there's the unchosen one. Picking up abandoned owls, Bones?”

Harry turns red, and is about to point his wand at Zabini when Susan reaches out, pulling him back into his seat. “Stop teasing him, Blaise.” Susan's voice is different from the one she's been using all along, and that makes even Zabini's posture change. “You have no reason to mess with him anymore.”

Harry wants to ask what she means, but unfortunately they arrive at Hogwarts too quickly. Zabini steps out of the carriage with a grace that would even make Fleur pale. “See ya, Potter. Please stop sending sweets at breakfast, Susan; Hannah.”

Harry is genuinely worried about his mental state, because there's no way it's normal to feel in a constant state of stupefaction and confusion. Maybe it's time to take that potion Snape offered him.

Susan and Hannah are gone, joining their housemates on their way to the Great Hall. Harry walks silently in the same direction, nervous of facing stares.

Strangely, he receives none. No one seems to notice that Harry has just arrived in the Great Hall. Everyone is too focused on their own business, and Harry walks feeling out of place between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables, taking a seat where he usually meets his friends. Dean is in front of him and when he sees Harry, a huge grin graces his face. “Hiya, Harry! Interesting summer, isn't it? It's crazy bro, but that's the magical world, it's truly fortunate that we have the new chosen one in our house. At least it's a double win for Gryffindor!” Angelina nods, approaching Harry as if she wants to tell him a secret.

“It's a shame Neville doesn't play Quidditch though, I would have loved to have both of you on the team.” Her secret isn't so secret, because Lavender waves her hand as if in complete agreement with her. “Anyway, Harry. You're still the seeker, obviously. You may have lost the title of the chosen one and all, but you're still a tremendous player. Don't be so sad!”

Harry doesn't understand. Harry doesn't understand absolutely nothing. Everyone is acting strange around him and why would he have to be sad that he's not the one Voldemort wants to kill?

The noise in the Great Hall stops abruptly, being replaced with whispers. Harry looks to where everyone is looking. Neville has just entered, with Ron, Hermione and Ginny at his side. He looks distinctly uncomfortable and nervous, but Hermione is holding his arm gently, a determined look on her face.

Harry shifts a bit, trying to make room for everyone.

However, they sit in a totally different place. No one else seems to take any notice, and Harry does a tremendous job of trying not to feel hurt or dismayed. He greets Seamus with a smile, and listens to the sorting of the newbies. Harry can almost pretend that everything is still the same, but Dumbledore instead of giving a speech of welcome gives one of war; and his gaze seems to be fixed on Neville, and he gives none to Harry.

Suddenly, he has no appetite. But Snape is going to kill him if he doesn't eat, so he struggles to swallow each and every bite. He carries on casual conversations with Lavender and Dean, and occasionally glances impatiently towards Ron, trying to make eye contact.

Harry is not usually very patient to begin with. He tends to do scenes under a lot of stress. Ron and Hermione seem to remember that, at least. Because as soon as they walk through the common room door, they sneak up on him. Ron grabbing his arm, Hermione pushing them hurriedly towards one of their hiding places.

Harry folds his arms and reminds himself not to be so hard on them. Both parties have made mistakes, for starters. “How was your summer?” Harry asks, awkwardly.

Hermione sort of grimaces between wanting to cry and throw herself into Harry's arms. Ron tugs Hermione's sweater lightly, a movement that doesn't go unnoticed by him. Hermione swallows her tears. “Oh, Harry. I don't know how to tell you this.” Hermione seems, for the first time since he's known her, completely unable to generate a coherent sentence. “We can't be friends, Harry.”

“Sorry?” Harry says, trying not to let his voice come out as hurt as he feels.

“It's not forever!” Hermione hastens to say, raising her voice a little. She glances around frantically, but no one is paying attention to them. “Just...while we win this war.” She finishes, this time in a lower voice.

“I'm not following.” Harry says, with honesty.

Ron grimaces. “You're neutral.” He says, as if that explains everything.

At his look, Hermione adds. “Snuffles and Remus have moved the House Potter alliance. And they've asked Dumbledore to keep you as far away from the war as possible.”

Harry blinks, and nods. “Uh, yeah. I know that.” The truth is, he knows that, but he hasn't asked exactly what it means, but they don't have to know that. “What does it have to do with our friendship, aren't you glad we're finally going to have some normalcy?”

This time it's Ron who's embarrassed. “It's not the same for us.” Hesitating, he continues. “Dumbledore asked us to support Neville with all this change. He's really having a hard time.”

Hermione nods, her face full of compassion. “No one has prepared him for this.” Harry wants to remind her that no one prepared him, either. “And he needs all the help he can get, all the support there is to offer. We're the only ones who have lived...what it's like to face them. Neville needs friends to be with him on this journey.”

Harry wants to tell them that he needs them too. A surge of jealousy coursing through his body, jealousy that he is not proud of, but believes he has the right to feel. Harry was his friend first, that should mean something. Apparently, in war, that means nothing.

Harry is sick of counting how many people have let him down in just one summer.

“Okay.” He says, pretending to understand, though inside he feels like he's burning up. Hermione's eyes sparkle through tears, but she gives him a smile full of pride. Harry immediately loathes her. “It's okay.”

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione says, before walking over to him to give him a tight hug. “You'll be fine. You don't have to do this anymore.”

Ron says goodbye with an awkward wave, as if hugging Harry would shatter all of his conviction to walk away from him. Harry watches as his friends, probably the only friends he would make for his entire life, walk away from him, reuniting with the chosen one.

Angelina's words seem to echo loudly in his head.

-

The first few weeks, Harry has a hard time adjusting. He is too used to being with Ron and Hermione that their absence makes horrors in his routine. Harry has no one to eat with or sit with during classes; the rest of the Gryffindors seem to take pity and take turns being his partners.

It doesn't help at all; Harry feels like a charity. But Harry has faced worse, being alone is hardly a problem.

And then, everything changes.

The changes start slowly. When he shares a class with the Hufflepuffs, Hannah and Susan drag him to their table and work with him as if they've been doing it all their lives. Harry internally appreciates the eccentricity of the two, because they make things a little more enjoyable for him. The only class he shares with the Ravenclaw's, a determined Terry Boot decides to make Harry his personal project.

“Potter.” He says the first time he sat next to him in charms. “I've spent years watching your precious talent in charms go down the drain. I've decided that's enough sacrifice, and now that the way is clear, I'm going to make you a jewel.”

Harry blinks. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

There's no point in fighting, Terry has the same fire in his eyes that Hermione has when she sets her mind to something.

The really surprising thing, however, happens in potions.

Harry is ready to fail miserably or die trying without Hermione's help, when Blaise Zabini sits down next to him. Harry is looking at him like he's grown two heads, and makes sure to look around ensuring that this wasn't a joke, but the Slytherin's simply look at Harry with interest, and not disdain, as before. The Gryffindors, however, are just as confused by the interaction as Harry is.

“”Potter.” Zabini says, bowing his head in greeting. “Susan asked me to save your life.”

Ah, that makes more sense.

Harry suddenly finds himself feeling comfortable in a new routine. It's not the same, of course, he's always going to miss Hermione and Ron with all his heart; more times than he wants to admit he finds himself casting longing glances towards the new golden trio, as people are calling them, seeming to want to eradicate Harry's existence altogether. Harry knows his friends like the back of his hand, and he knows that Hermione's scowls and Ron's concentrated look can only mean one thing: they're up to something.

But it's not Harry's problem. So he pretends not to see anything and accompanies Terry to the library. That's a new habit, too. A welcome change in routine and a big revelation: Harry is not a complete idiot. Apparently, all he needed for his academic talents to come to the surface was to not have a complete psycho wanting to assassinate him. Who knew?

Terry seems to take too much pride in Harry's results, as if they were his own. Soon, the table where they study is overrun by two enthusiastic and fussing Hufflepuffs who earn two or three annoyed glances from Madam Pince and a Slytherin who enjoys Harry's moments of exasperation a little too much, when Terry abruptly drops his most recent charms assignment. “A+” He says, a maniacal grin adorning his face.

Susan and Hannah clap their hands in delight. Harry rolls his eyes at their theatrics. “Are you going to show that to everyone?”

“Of course not.” Terry says, putting Harry's homework away in an envelope again, as if it were something precious. “Only to those who really know how to appreciate my hard work in making you into someone with a future.”

“Thank you?” Harry's sarcasm steals a laugh from Blaise, and he glares at him. “Blaise, aren't your peers giving you a hard time for spending time with us?”

Blaise denies. “We've been friends for years.” Harry thinks that's the only explanation he'll give him, but it's not. “Pansy, Daphne and Draco often hang out with us too, sometimes Theo does. None of them have tried recently, considering, well.” Blaise points discreetly towards Harry. “They've left me to die alone, until they know if it's safe to approach or not.”

Harry takes a moment to think before responding. It's one of the things he's learned from Terry, who has reprimanded him more than once for jumping to hasty conclusions and unfounded accusations just because of prejudice or following someone else's ideas. He thinks quickly but carefully about all his interactions with the Slytherins, they have almost never been pleasant. But he can recognize that many of the times, the attacks have been initiated on his part, or he has jumped in to defend someone else, usually Ron and Hermione. Other times, the run-ins they've had have been over Quidditch, but they're the same run-ins he's had with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, only he's taken them more personally. Susan, Hannah and Terry seem to study his thought process with some satisfaction. At first, that used to irritate him too much, feeling like an object of study. Now, it doesn't bother him so much.

The truth is, he doesn't even remember having any fights with Greengrass or Nott. With Parkinson there have been too many, mainly for defending Malfoy. The day Blaise revealed to him without joking that his girlfriend was indeed Pansy, everyone laughed at Harry saying that all this time he thought she was in love with Malfoy.

Harry hadn't given any thought to the fact that his classmates had a life of their own. Snape wasn't so wrong, then, for calling Harry arrogant. He had simply decided that, because others had told him it was the right thing to do, he must hate the Slytherins. He had stopped thinking of them as individual people with lives and friends, and had pigeonholed them as a bunch of potential mini Death Eaters.

He could almost see Snape's victorious smile when he admitted that at Christmas dinner. The bastard was right, that wouldn't make Sirius happy.

“Oh.” Harry says, carefully, before continuing. “Well, they were here first before me. They were your friends first, they can be here whenever they want.” Harry pauses, really not that convinced about spending time with Malfoy, considering their extensive, troubled, and embarrassing list of track records together. But Harry had promised Susan to make an effort to socialize, and Malfoy really hasn't messed with Harry since the beginning of the school year, deciding that his ultimate enemy is, now, Neville. “If you want, I can spend breaks somewhere else. It really doesn't matter.” He could always force his way into Snape's office and make him spend time with him.

Hannah rolls her eyes, Terry drops his head hard against his book, and Blaise genuinely looks like he wants to punch Harry. Susan is the one who ends up answering him. “Honestly Harry, are you an idiot?” Ouch. “I'm genuinely concerned about your low self-esteem, but hey, it's what one earns when one lives the way you've lived so far. We can hardly remedy that in three months, even Merlin wouldn't dare that much. But by now I thought you'd understand.”

“Understand what?” Harry questions, pretending Susan's comments don't hit too close to home. He partly regrets sharing parts of his past and his fears, but it's not like Blaise will leave him alone when he asks them to. Fuck, whenever he thinks he's going to end up losing his mind, one of them is there willing to put him on his feet. He can't hate them.

“Understand that you're our friend too.” Terry says, softly. “Not because it's a recent event, it doesn't mean we appreciate you any less. For you to implicitly say that hurts my feelings, mate. Besides, it's a little irritating that savior and sacrifice complex you have, you don't have to leave for us to be okay. We can all be fine together.”

Harry's blush goes all the way to his neck, and he answers nothing. Hannah laughs at him, but it's not a mocking laugh. Many times Harry finds himself trying to figure out his new friends' behavior, because the way they interact is so different from what he was used to that he finds himself constantly questioning whether they've been taking advantage of him up to that point or if Ron and Hermione were just as bad at socializing as he was. “Then it's cleared up. I'll tell them it's safe to come to the next meeting.” Susan claps her hands together happily.

Harry asks one more question, before focusing on his next assignment. “Won't it be a little strange for the others to see me surrounded by Slytherin's?”

Hannah smirks. “Harry, vanity doesn't suit you. That one belongs to Pansy.” Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, she continues. “Don't think you're such a big deal, when have you ever seen us get in trouble for our meetings? Besides, we're hardly the only mixed group that exists at Hogwarts. I'm surprised you didn't know that Flora Carrow is dating Parvati Patil, and you went with her sister to last year's ball!” Hannah shakes her head in mock disappointment. “Inter-house friendships and relationships, including Slytherin and Gryffindor, are all too common, Harry. It's just that you lived in your perfect world, and never cared to learn about us extras.” Terry seems to agree with her a lot, because he's nodding as if Harry's past attitude was a personal offense. “But now you're an extra like all of us. No one cares what we do or don't do. Leave the rivalries to relevant characters, like the Chosen One, for example.”

-

Snuffles,

Life gets stranger every day. Some days are harder than others. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin and there are times when I wake up at night covered in sweat afraid that someone will come and attack me, but no one does. Sometimes I have the feeling to run to them when I realize that at night Ron and Neville are not there, terrified that something will happen to them. But it doesn't concern me, it shouldn't matter to me.

But there are good days. And there are weird days - can you believe I made friends with a bunch of Slytherins? And that they're bloody good at playing chess? I'm sure Ron would enjoy this too much, if he could get past the generational pride. That's a bit hypocritical of me, considering I'm only just getting rid of it myself. Which makes me ask you, are you disappointed in me, because of the decisions I've been making?

Susan says I shouldn't care what you think, that I'm my own person. Oh, I failed to mention that. I inadvertently let your name come up in one of our meetings. Hannah almost fainted, but after explaining our history, Susan has promised to help me help you. Don't...don't expect too much. But we can be closer to you walking free, like me.

I miss you very much. Tell me how you are doing, please.

Harry

-

Prongs,

Thank you for reminding me to send a letter to Snape. The bastard, once again, is right. Maybe it's time we consult a therapist (Merlin won't let me lie, it's served me too well, even if Remus dragged me to go). We'll talk about it over the break.

I could never be disappointed in you, no matter what you do, and no matter what you decide. You have earned the right to live your life the way you want to live it. And I'm going to support you at all times, even if that means you fraternize with the enemy (Remus insists on reminding you that this is a joke, so you don't get confused). Let me tell you, Harry, my brother was a Slytherin, and I adored him. If you had been in Salazar's house, I would have loved you just as much.

Susan Bones sounds as frightening as her aunt. I like the influence this little group is having on you, why don't you invite them over for Christmas? I don't have much to offer, we're still remodeling the house, but I'd love to meet the protagonists of your long letters. Regardless of whether they can do anything for my freedom, I am eternally grateful for their role in your life.

There is nothing new to tell compared to the letter from the day before yesterday. We're still remodeling, Remus still can't get a job and Kreacher has suspiciously stopped calling us trash and has been actively helping us clean up; I think he's secretly glad to see the sun streaming through the windows of this old house.

I miss you even more, I wish the vacations would come faster.

S

-

Hannah was right. No one cares at all what Harry does, even if that's sharing a table with Draco Malfoy. No one except Ron, who seems to have eaten something lousy the first time he sees them. But Ron unilaterally decided to end their friendship, and Harry wasn't about to give up the chance to make friends on his own to keep someone else happy, specifically someone who didn't mind at all throwing Harry aside when he needed him most.

The first time they share a table in the library, Parkinson surrounds them with a barrier of privacy and protection, Madam Pince seemed more than used to it, because she doesn't even come close to scold her. When she is satisfied with the barrier, she drops her wand on the table and directs a smile at Harry. The image is so bizarre that Harry doesn't know what expression to make.

Pansy Parkinson. It's smiling at him.

“Hello, Potter.” She greets him, apparently being the designated representative of the new (old? Additions to the group. Technically Harry is the new one). “It's nice to meet you.”

“Parkinson.” Harry says, incredulously. “I've known you since I was eleven. I've known all of you since you were eleven. Can we skip this weird initiation ritual?”

“Absolutely not.” Says Nott. Harry is not ashamed to mentally acknowledge that this is the first time he's heard his voice. “We knew the Boy-Who-Lived, Gryffindor Golden Boy, heir to Albus bloody Dumbledore. We didn't know you.”

Wow. Something tells him that a whole lot of people secretly hated him. He'd probably offended a lot of people unknowingly over the years. “I'm still the same person, still.” Harry tries to defend himself, without much spirit really.

Susan looks at him in disbelief. “Harry, you don't believe that yourself.” Harry tries to argue back, but Susan won't let him. “You're not the same person, because the Harry Potter we knew would walk past us in the corridors and see nothing but what he wanted to see. I don't entirely blame you, you know. You were in very bad company, in my opinion.”

Harry takes a bit of offense in honor of the friendship he had with Ron and Hermione, and frowns. His gaze immediately goes to Malfoy, who is suspiciously silent trying to hide behind the figure of Greengrass, who watches everything as if the situation were a fascinating spectacle. “And why do you all suddenly want to be friends with me? I'm still a stupid Gryffindor, and I think we've hated each other for years enough to ignore that it happened.”

“I never hated you.” Greengrass replies, her voice sweet and melodious. “I don't remember a single time where you and I ever spoke to begin with.”

“Well, maybe not you, but...” Harry points at Parkinson and Malfoy, caring little as Susan denies at the impolite gesture. “You and I have fought. A lot.”

“Circumstances have changed.” Parkinson says, calmly. “I have no reason to mess with you anymore.”

Harry blinks, that sounds too much like what Susan said to Blaise earlier in the term. Harry recoils a little in his seat, his silence an invitation for Parkinson to continue, and she does, after letting out a sigh. “I can't find a polite way to say it; so I'll just tell you. You were an enemy and now the Dark Lord has decided you are no one. My parents couldn't care less whether or not I talk to you. You're an heir to an Ancient House, and us getting along benefits both of us.”

That...oddly sounds too convincing. It's too perfect an explanation, so much so that it makes him suspicious. Susan's masked nervousness makes it clear to him that there's more behind this whole new group, but after spending so much time with her, he recognizes that it's nothing that's going to hurt him. So he decides to give in just that once.

“What about you?” Harry asks, a little defensively, Malfoy seems surprised that Harry would address him. “I'm sure Lucius Malfoy detests me.”

“A little.” Malfoy says, a slight smile on his face. “But that's more because of what happened with Dobby than anything else. He was far too small for an elf to be set free. Besides.” Malfoy folds his arms, in a poor imitation of his father. “I'm only interested in antagonizing Dumbledore's pet, and you're not anymore. You're the most bearable Gryffindor there is.”

“So.” Harry starts, processing the information. “You all hated me to gain favor with your parents and your Lord.”

“Only our parents.” Nott corrects, as if that makes it any less horrible. “I hardly love the idea of becoming a follower of a lunatic.” Well, that's definitely fresh information for Harry.

“Those ugly robes will never bring out my beauty.” Parkinson agrees, as if she wasn't insulting the terror of the magical world in the middle of the library.

“I'm afraid you've lost me, since when did you guys joke about him?” Harry asks, genuinely curious.

“Since forever.” They answer at the same time. Greengrass extends a more detailed explanation. “Our parents would die before they would let us become followers of him.”

“Yes, that includes my father.” Malfoy says, offering the answer to the question that doesn't leave Harry's tongue.

“Draco's father is the number 1 Oppositor, for starters!” Blaise says, adding context that Harry definitely needs. “You see, our parents have only asked us to do one thing: pretend we're sympathetic to the cause to avoid our impending deaths when Mr. Lunatic returned, and send us abroad making us mysteriously disappear by freeing us from following the very idiotic path they took in their youth.”

“It's a Slytherin's dream.” Malfoy says, before frowning, thoughtfully. “Well, of most, Flint is so stupid he'd repeat his father's mistake. But the Flints have never been known for being particularly smart.”

The conversation drifts off into directions Harry would never have imagined.

At some point; they turn to Theo, Pansy, Daphne and Draco.

-

Act Three: A Future

It is the best Christmas Harry has ever had.

Grimmauld Place goes through almost as radical a change as Harry has had. The gloomy dark colors are gone and now the walls are a fresh sky blue, with white borders. There are new paintings on the wall, and the floor no longer smells musty. It's a victory, and Kreacher seems on the verge of tears as he greets Susan, Hannah and Blaise at the door, completely thrilled to become a host again.

“Welcome.” His old, croaky voice echoes from the doorway, Harry peeks out, happy to see Kreacher enjoying the moment he has practiced so hard for. “Welcome to the ancestral and majestic house of the Blacks.”

Blaise seems genuinely fascinated with the architecture of the house, and Harry deeply regrets that Terry could not attend, for he would surely be delighted with the new enchanted ceiling, which changes to a different constellation every day. “It's a beautiful house. Thank you so much for the kind reception.” Susan says, bowing slightly to greet Kreacher. Harry laughs. “Oh, Harry! Happy Yule!”

They exchange greetings between the three of them, and Harry leads the way to the dining room, where Remus and Sirius are fighting over inflating balloons the Muggle way, Snape ignoring them completely as he disinterestedly waved his wand, inflating them rapidly. Harry clears his throat, and Sirius drops the Muggle thing to the ground, a huge grin adorning his face. “Oh, but if it isn't my boy's friends.”

Harry feels like Sirius is purposely embarrassing him, but the interaction between them makes Harry feel strange things in his heart, so he enjoys it without interrupting. Blaise discreetly approaches Snape, conversing quietly. The professor looks genuinely surprised by whatever it is Blaise has told him.

“Harry!” Susan says, holding an envelope in her hands. “I have a present for you.”

“Oh?” He says, still not used to gifts, so rather nervously he takes the envelope Susan holds out to him. “Thank you so much Su, you shouldn't have. I didn't get you anything...” His voice full of embarrassment. Pulling the paper out, Harry's face turns pale as his eyes fill with tears.

“Are you happy?” She asks, nervously. Her eyes are glassy as well, and Harry turns to look at everyone in stupefaction. Hannah and Blaise are also on the verge of tears.

Trial for Lord Sirius Black, January 23, 1996.

Harry runs to hug Susan, and almost immediately runs to hug Sirius. His godfather is as confused as Remus until he reads the information on the paper at Harry's hands. They spend a few embarrassing moments filled with tears and happiness, until they are interrupted.

“Susan!” exclaims Daphne, angrily. Her pretty face contracted in disappointment. “You said you'd wait for us to arrive!”

“I said it, but I didn't promise it.” She replies, sticking out her tongue mockingly.

“And that's my gift.” Blaise says, Harry wants to ask him what he means, his eyes completely swollen. “I think you're going to hate me though.”

Harry then sees who Daphne is with. Draco is standing behind her holding a huge blue box with a ribbon on it, his face completely red. Harry's eyes widen, turning his head quickly and wiping his face desperately. He makes a poor attempt to look more presentable, and greets the new guests. “Guys, I thought you couldn't come.”

“Pansy and Theo couldn't run away from boring political dinners.” Daphne replies, side-eyeing Draco. “My dear Draco had been begging his mother for three full weeks by letter to exempt his presence from their annual Yule Ball.”

“Daphne.” Draco's voice sounds shocked, the witch ignores him.

“He definitely wanted to come see you.” Daphne says, before faking confusion. “See us, sorry. The cold stirs my mind a bit.”

Harry turns completely red, almost the same shade as his sweater. The exchange of words does not go unnoticed by the adults, Sirius seems overly interested in the information, his gaze fixed on Harry, then Draco.

Merlin, he's going to kill his friends.

Harry has told himself he's stupid too many times, more out of habit than thinking he really is. But being around people who talk in code all the time for so long like it's a game and lifestyle makes him realize things much more quickly. It didn't take more than two weeks (Hannah thinks it's too long, Blaise seconds. Apparently, there was a bet about it. The victor ends up being Terry) to notice what everyone was trying to hide from him.

Draco is in love with Harry.

Harry came to that conclusion one sleepless night, too confused by the Slytherin's very different behavior. Suddenly, Draco is almost a ghost behind him, speaking from the gentler side of the word. Blaise has given him his seat in Potions, and when they sit together in the library everyone makes sure they both sit together. Their friends are deliberately trying their hardest to make something happen between them. They all seem to want to get down on their knees and thank the heavens when Harry shares his theory with them.

“I'm sick of hearing him talk about you.” Terry confesses, coming out of the charms classroom. “Honestly, he's been obsessed with you forever. He almost broke my arm when the Skeeter article came out and he understood that he could finally have a chance with you.”

“Please tell me you'll give him a chance.” Says Susan, the next day. “He was devastated when you wouldn't agree to take his hand in first year. I'm sure he sacrificed some of the peacock in his family in order to get to this moment.”

“You can tell him no.” Pansy reasons, following him on his way to Snape's office. “But you really don't want to tell him no. I know that, Potter. From hate to love is only one step and I'm sure those intense emotions he always awoke in you very deeply were covered by wanting to kiss him shut up, admit it and do us all a favor. Make Draco shut up.”

“I'm not going to try to convince you.” Daphne says, escorting him on the way to Gryffindor tower. “But I know from reliable sources that Draco has a very fit body. I can swear on my honor that he's saved his first kiss for you, even though his odds were close to zero last year. That speaks volumes about his ardent loyalty, don't you think? Loyalty is a value that Gryffindors hold dear, isn't it?”

“By Merlin, kiss him and let me be happy.” Hannah groans as soon as Harry enters the classroom, her gaze full of longing. “I'm sick of you two giving each other shy looks. It gives me chills just remembering it.”

“I don't know what Draco would have done if this never happened.” Blaise says, Harry listens intently to what he has to say. “He would possibly regret his undying love for you for the rest of his days and would have drunk himself to perdition on your wedding day to Ginny Weasley. Fortunately we'll never know because you're here today and Weasley hardly looks at you now, so there's no way you'll end up with a poor imitator of your precious late mother, may she rest in peace. So it doesn't hurt to try and give the handsome, tall, blond boy who would buy the whole world for you a chance, right?”

Well, Harry is half convinced.

By Christmas, with swollen eyes and possible freedom from his godfather, Harry is definitely, deeply and undeniably in love with Draco Malfoy.

As everyone leaves, Harry and Draco bid farewell to the Yule being still friends. That seems to exasperate the rest of the group, who walk away looking at them with annoyance. Draco ignores them completely, staring at Harry intently. His words are clear and firm. “You don't have to listen to them.” Harry dreads the words that will come from his lips, because Draco is definitely misinterpreting his hesitation. “I don't need you to reciprocate my feelings; I just wanted to let you know. I'm content to be friends, if that's what you prefer.”

Harry knows that Draco will never be content with just being friends. And his heart aches at the thought of Draco putting Harry's well-being and happiness above his own, even when what he wants is so close at hand.

As Draco leaves, Sirius comes up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You know, when I told you to do teenage things; I was expecting to get some complaint from McGonagall for arriving drunk at Gryffindor tower. Even some girlfriend or two, maybe a broken heart.” He pauses. “I didn't expect you to star in a romantic melodrama play with your former arch nemesis who happens to be your secret admirer.”

“I shouldn't have let you meet Hannah.” Harry complains.

“Hey, I was going to bother you with that regardless of whether Miss Abbot and I became friends.” Sirius smirks, ruffling Harry's hair. “But really, Malfoy? You're really giving me a hard time about this parenting thing, kid. I haven't spoken to Narcissa in ages. Last time I'm sure I almost killed her husband. Wait, do we want to be in good graces with the Malfoy's or are you planning on turning him down?”

Harry turns red. “I like him too.”

“Merlin, I'm too old for this.” Sirius says, looking up at the ceiling. The constellation Andromeda shining above them. “Why didn't you tell him then?”

Harry lifts his shoulders. “I don't know. It's all so weird. Half the time I'm afraid he's playing me for a fool and I'm the only one with real feelings.”

“Give Mr. Malfoy a little more credit.” Snape says, from the edge of the dining room door, Remus nodding at his side. “A little more and he pretends to bump into you in the corridors simply to keep you close and talk to you, even if they were just exchanges of insults. His attempts to get your attention by getting on your nerves bordered on absurdity. Even when he does the same with Mr. Longbottom for appearances sake, he leaves most of the annoyance to Goyle and Parkinson.”

Harry thinks he can't get any redder. He ends up fleeing to his room when Remus tries to give him the talk.

-

The thing is, everyone's right. Harry doesn't need to be told all those things about Draco to know that.

Clearly, if when they were rivals the boy moved heaven and earth to get Harry's attention, now that they were friends and he didn't have to pretend, his attentions would multiply. Draco had always been quite intense with his emotions around Harry, even when he pretended they were negative. They were so intense and compelling that they drove Harry crazy, making him react almost immediately. Suddenly the bastard's smirks made sense when he managed to drive Harry off his senses.

The bastard enjoyed knowing that he could influence Harry, that somehow his words got through to him.

Harry would like to feel genuinely overwhelmed and dismayed by it, but he doesn't. That Draco still has intense emotions towards him gave him a sense of familiarity and comfort that he can't explain. A feeling of pure adrenaline. Harry is intoxicated in Draco.

Waving goodbye to Lavender, Harry leaves the Gryffindor tower in direction of the library, a goofy grin adorning his face. He can almost smell Draco's perfume when someone tugs him by his robes towards one of the abandoned classrooms on the second floor. Harry's alarm senses kick in abruptly, and he points his wand immediately at his captor. “Give me a reason not to blow your head off.”

“Wow, Harry! It's me!” the shocked voice of Ron startles him. A lumos beside him lights up the room giving Harry a perfect view of Hermione and Ron.

“I told you to be more tactful, Ronald.” Hermione scolds him, frowning. A few months ago, Harry would have looked at the interaction between the two with affection, now he simply wants to leave. Hermione turns her gaze away, giving Harry a smile. “Oh, Harry. We found out recently thanks to Neville's grandmother. Congratulations on getting a trial for Snuffles.”

“It wasn't me.” Harry replies, because he's too proud of Susan to steal the credit. “It was Susan.”

“Bones?” Ron says, his eyes widening. “Wow, I didn't think Amelia Bones' reserved and serious niece would volunteer to free a suspected murderer rather than put him back in Azkaban. But I'm glad it all turned out all right.”

Harry has to remind himself that the two of them don't know Susan like he does, and that he shouldn't be offended by the fact that they thought his friend would betray him. So he smiles awkwardly. “Thanks".

Hermione smiles back, a huge, happy smile, as if it's not the first time in months they've spoken to him. “But there's something else we'd like to talk to you about, Harry.”

At his silence, Ron continues. “We're worried about you, mate. We understand that our absence hurt you so much, we miss you a lot too.” Hermione nods frantically, her curly hair getting messy with the movement. “Dumbledore is a little distressed for you as well.” Harry actually doubts it. “What I mean is; you don't need to force yourself to spend time with the Slytherins to get our attention. They're dangerous to be around, Harry. They are dangerous people. We've spoken to Ginny and Luna and they're willing to keep you company at our place while we sort out our business.”

Harry does a great job of not letting out a laugh that would definitely offend both of them. Merlin, he has no idea who the hell Luna is. Harry has to remind himself again that Ron and Hermione know nothing about the Slytherins circumstances, and that their opinions are severely influenced by Dumbledore's speech. But still, it's utter ridiculousness.

“No thanks.”

“Harry!” Hermione says, her tone disapproving and disappointed. In other circumstances Harry would have backed down immediately, but Hermione has no business having a say in his life in the first place. “It's for your own good.”

“You can believe whatever you wish.” Harry says, kindly. “But I'll do what I want.”

“Honestly, you're being too stubborn and stupid.” Ron says, suddenly annoyed. “Malfoy may well kill you in one of those silly meetings you have in the library. He may be slowly poisoning the pages of your parchment, you know? Just because you're around him risking your life doesn't mean we're going to ditch Neville on his mission to go rescue you from your misery.”

Harry does let out a laugh this time. There's no point in even arguing with them. Terry would be too proud of the temperamental control Harry has developed. “Okay. Noted.” Walking towards the door, Harry leaves, without first saying. “I'd say it's been good to see you, but the truth is, it hasn't. Don't let it happen again, please.” Raising his hand in farewell, ignoring Hermione calling him to come back, he adds. “Try not to die, or whatever. I definitely don't want to know what you're in the middle of right now.”

Harry meets Draco on his way to the library. The Slytherin has an expression of complete concern before he notices Harry, his face immediately relaxing.

“Where were you?” His question is curious, but not demanding. Harry doesn't want to, but compares his tone of voice to Ginny and Hermione, who always seemed to demand to know what Harry was doing and where he was when they lost sight of him. “ Is everything all right?”

Harry nods, holding back the information about his brief encounter with his former friends until he reaches the table. Dropping into his seat with Draco beside him, Theo stretches towards him. “So, Mr. Punctuality, what happened that you're late?”

“Ron and Hermione decided to intercept me on my way here.” Draco tenses beside him, as do the rest of his friends. Immediately, Daphne's friendly smile disappears and she looks wary, almost worried. Harry decides to ignore their reactions for the moment, thinking that they are simply angry at their boldness. “They said a lot of idiotic things. I didn't even bother to remember it all. They congratulated me on Sirius' trial and offered me Ginny and some girl named Luna as friends, can you believe it? Like I was some sort of charity or something. They're convinced I'm friends with you guys to screw with their lives and get their attention.” Harry scoffs, before adding. “Oh, and apparently Draco wants to kill me by poisoning my homework.”

When no one else is laughing, and he notices that Draco is still just as tense next to him, Harry understands what's going on. Knowing that there is a privacy barrier around them, Harry pulls the heaviest book he has out of his bag and drops it hard on the table. “'By Merlin's dirty, stained and filthy underwear. No, I'm not running back into the arms of my ex-friends because they gave me two galleons worth of attention. I'm not an abandoned owl.” Harry turns to look at Draco in annoyance, before pinching his arm lightly. The Slytherin's expression immediately changes from desolation to pain, but for the pinch. “And you, Draco, I'm not going to run off with Ginny Weasley and start a family. I don't know where these rumors were born from to begin with. I'm too busy with you to look at anyone else. Have a little more faith in me, at least.”

Draco blushes, and finally loses his trademark composure to open his mouth stupidly like a fish, not a single word leaving his lips. It's not a confession on Harry's part, but it's very close to one.

Terry breaks the silence, clearing his throat. “Well, mate. Sorry for the momentary suspicion, it's just...”

“We saw you at the beginning of term, all scrawny and depressed and pale and ready to run back to the precious band of world defenders even to act like a dog rather than a person, that for a moment we feared nostalgia would be worth more than our friendship.” Pansy says, holding nothing back, as always.

Harry snorts, all too used to the black-haired girl's passive aggressive comments. “Believe it or not, Parkinson, I have self-esteem and self-respect.”

“Which, thanks to Merlin, you've built up in the company of a good circle of friendships, proper guardians and therapy.” Susan says, diplomatically. “Long gone is the child prone to sacrifice who swore his life was worth less than the leaf in this old herbology book, who ran in the face of danger without a thought, and who was willing to die for an entire magical community he doesn't even know.”

“I'm proud of you.” Blaise says, as if he has reached a certain kind of peace of mind. “We've put some degree of self-preservation into your body. We've removed the worst traits of your Gryffindor-ness, rather, Dumbledore-ness, and turned you into a normal person. I can ascend alongside Lady Magic in peace.”

Pansy smacks him hard on the back of the head with her parchment, not at all pleased with his last comment. “Well, can we call this topic closed and start going over the charms project?” Harry says, clearing some space at the table.

“Finally!” Terry exclaims, definitely happy.

Draco doesn't comment on Harry's near-confession. But he does slyly take his hand under the table. Harry has to swallow the terrible smile that refuses to leave his face.

-

What all his friends and family were waiting for finally happens in Ravenclaw's match against Gryffindor. The game has dragged on for ages, the weather is terrible and Harry can hardly see the Snitch, but neither team is willing to finish the match that would define that year's final.

Harry is convinced that they will be there for another three hours, when between the bodies of the players he sees a faint flash of gold. Eager to be anywhere but in the rain, Harry approaches the Snitch at high speed, his eyes fixed on his target, perfectly dodging balls and the opposing team's attempts to distract him. The new Ravenclaw seeker follows close behind, probably not knowing exactly where the snitch is, but following closely so she can watch it and try to catch it.

Harry knows he's too close to the crowd, but he doesn't slow down, stretching his arm as far as he can to reach it, inadvertently slipping on his broom and landing upside down, but with the snitch in his hand.

“AND IN WHAT SEEMS TO BE THE LONGEST GAME OF MY LIFE AND THAT'S SAYING A LOT CONSIDERING I'M BARELY SIXTEEN, HARRY POTTER PUTS AN END TO THIS MARTYRDOM FOR WHICH WE'LL ALL END UP IN THE INFIRMARY FOR SPENDING SO MUCH TIME IN THE RAIN, CATCHING THE SNITCH.” Lee narrates. “GRYFFINDOR 350 VS RAVENCLAW 200, GRYFFINDOR WINS, GRYFFINDOR IS IN THE FINAL!”

Harry blinks, trying to see between the raindrops on his face, he's still upside down, and in some bizarre way, standing in front of him is Draco. Harry smiles widely before stretching a little further, giving him a kiss.

“Here!” He exclaims, genuinely pleased, enjoying Draco's shocked face and dropping the Snitch into the blond's hands. “It's yours! As is my heart!”

“SHIT!” exclaims Lee. McGonagall snaps at him from a distance, but he pays her no mind. “HARRY POTTER JUST OVERSHADOWED GRYFFINDOR'S VICTORY BY DECLARING HIS LOVE FOR HIS FORMER ENEMY, PUTTING AN END TO THE BETTING OVER WHO THE HELL WOULD CONFESS FIRST. AND I LOST! EVERYONE PLEASE PAY SEVERUS SNAPE, WHO HAS COME CLOSEST TO THE CORRECT ANSWER!”

“Bravo!” shouts Sirius from the shelves, hanging on Remus' neck. “That's my boy!”

Behind them, McGonagall sighs and reluctantly pulls out a bag, handing it to a very pleased Snape.

-

Neville, Ron and Hermione are not in the Great Hall a week before the end of the school year. Ginny and the twins also absent. But that's not what matters.

Draco and Pansy aren't there either. Harry fears the worst. Ignoring Parvati's quizzical looks, he slips past the others to sit next to Terry, at the Ravenclaw table. “Terry. Do you know what happened?”

The Ravenclaw denies, but sneaks over to Harry to whisper. “The seventh years say that You-Know-Who attacked the Ministry last night. There's no certain information, but apparently there was a duel between Dumbledore and him. They say all will be revealed in the prophet this morning, but no owl has arrived.”

Harry doesn't fall prey to panic by sheer miracle, thanks to the owls that begin to abruptly enter the place. Harry almost snatches the newspaper out of Padma's hand.

YOU KNOW WHO ATTACKS, THE WAR IS HERE

An article by Rita Skeeter

DEATH EATERS CAPTURED IN BATTLE

“Potter!” Snape calls after him from behind, Harry turns to see him, completely pale. “With me. Boot, you too.”

Harry gets up hurriedly, Terry following close behind. Snape leads them to his office, where the Floo is ready. Terry looks about to faint, Snape grabs his arm, before dropping indications. “Go to your room and gather your things, I will contact your parents and be sure to notify them that you are on your way. If you have the means to leave the country, do so. If you don't, contact me and I'll be sure to provide asylum.” Terry nods frantically, before giving Harry a tight hug to quickly disappear out the door. “Harry.” Snape grabs his arms, a pained expression on his face. Harry knows exactly why. “I can't go with you, not while he's alive. But you have to leave. Black and Lupin have your things ready at Grimmauld Place for your immediate departure. For safety's sake, I have no idea where they're going, do you understand me?”

Harry nods, a lump in his throat. “Draco...Susan...”

“Rest assured, Draco is too far away from here, just like most children whose parents are smart enough.” Snape interrupts. “ He's fine, I can assure you of that.” Snape pulls Harry closer to the Floo Network, his hands shaking. “Go away, Harry. This isn't your fight anymore.”

“But it is yours.” Harry says, looking at the man who has become part of his precious little family.

“And it's the price I have to pay for making you live through what you lived for.” Snape's words are not comforting at all, but he understands them. “Please, Harry. Go.”

As Harry disappears into the flames, Severus Snape's heart finally finds peace.

-

Remus and Sirius welcome him with short greetings before grabbing their bags and disappearing back into the Flo. Harry barely has time to process it all when he opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is Gringotts completely overcrowded with desperate wizards and witches. Sirius holds Harry's arm tightly so as not to lose him in the crowd, until he is in front of one of the Goblins.

“Greetings, master.” Sirius says, trying to remain calm. “We have a ticket reserved for the Black family.”

The creature looks at them critically, before extending its hand towards Sirius, who hands it the key to his vault to authenticate his identity. The creature seems satisfied, as he returns the greeting with a nod of his head in total calm, oblivious to the chaos around him. “Of course, if you'd like to join us?”

Sirius and Remus drag Harry quickly behind the Goblin, who walks so fast it's almost confusing to remember where they came from. Another Floo awaits them, and Sirius waves goodbye with a formal greeting before turning to Harry. “You go first.” Harry denies, startled.

“No.” Harry says, clinging to Remus. “Not without you two.”

“We'll be right behind you.” Remus assures him. “I promise you, Harry. We don't have much time before they get here.”

Harry decides to believe and disappears into the flames. When he opens his eyes, Draco is staring at him in distress. He rushes over to him and wraps him in a tight hug. “You're all right. Thanks to Merlin, you're okay. You're here.”

Harry reciprocates the hug, but looks hopefully towards the fire. When Remus materializes, followed by Sirius, Harry finally feels like he can breathe.

Narcissa Malfoy welcomes them in all her glory as a perfect hostess. Apparently, they are in the safe house that the Malfoy family has had for generations in Italy. It is impossible to enter and leave without Narcissa's strict permission. The woman appears to be fine, but Draco confides in him that his mother cried all night for leaving his father at home, even though he was the one who asked her to leave.

Harry and Draco decide to leave the difficult issues to the adults, and Harry is only too happy to know that all his friends have arrived safely, although it is not possible to visit them yet, until they are sure they will be completely safe. The first few nights, Narcissa, Remus and Sirius stand on guard, waiting for some attack or dangerous news, until one of the house elves finally gives the green light: The house is hidden from everyone except Lady Magic. 

Harry doesn't want to know anything about the war, he just wants to know that Snape is still alive. So Sirius opts every night to report the same thing to Harry: Snape has survived another day.

As time passes, Harry and Draco continue their education at home; occasionally visiting one of their friends, on days when the tension eases, falling into a new routine until days become months, and months become a year.

It is almost a year and a half after the war began that the letter arrives. Sirius is afraid to open it, but Narcissa has an iron conviction, so she snatches the letter from him to read it.

When the expression on the stoic woman's face changes from utter seriousness to a flood of tears, Harry expects the worst. However, the woman turns around and wraps Draco in a tight embrace. “It's over, my dragon. It's over and your father is alive.”

The next letter arrives a few minutes later, Remus is the one who opens it this time. When his eyes meet Harry's, he says. “Snape is alive.”

-

Harry returns home hand in hand with his fiancé and in the company of family and friends. The country is in complete chaos, the government has fallen and many lives have been lost. Returning to Hogwarts to honor those who have fallen in battle makes him think of Cedric Diggory's symbolic funeral, and the day that would set the course of his life.

Neville is standing next to Dumbledore, visibly thinner, definitely wounded and haggard. Hermione and Ron faithfully behind them, all sharing the speech podium. There are shouts of thanks and a pile of flowers on the floor. Harry's gaze meets Dumbledore's, and the man seems to see in Harry a ghost. When Ron and Hermione look at him, their faces seem to contract in grief and guilt, then resignation. But none of that matters.

Draco squeezes his hand tightly, and Harry, finally, says goodbye to his past to embrace his future.