New name new game

As Harry walked back to the castle, he didn't know what to do.

He was freaking the fuck out.

He trudged up the hill and thought about his next move. 

There were two possible scenarios. The others told their parents he was Damian or they didn't.

If it got out, Harry was fucked, so he decided to go with scenario two. Harry had to avoid the Slytherins at all costs. Maybe if it sunk in how much Harry hated all of them, they wouldn't say anything. He would go back to the dorm room as late as possible every night, and leave for breakfast as early as possible every morning. He’d eat at the Gryffindor table, fuck whatever anyone thought of that. 

Yeah.

That was his plan. It wasn't a good one, but Harry didn't feel like talking about Damian Riddle anymore, so it was the best one he had.

-

The next week went by uncomfortably, but at least Harry didn't hear the name Damian. His dormmates were cautious around him, but never got to say anything because Harry either sped out of the room as soon as they woke up, went into his bed whenever he arrived at night, sat on the opposite side of classrooms, and ate with Gryffindor and sometimes Luna.

Harry called it success, others may call it immature, but Harry didn't care. Addressing one’s problems was for people who weren't good at improvisation.

At least, that's the argument he was trying to make to Hermione after she found out he didn't do the 8 page Arithmetic paper due the day after tomorrow on Monday.

She lectured him, but Harry would do it tomorrow night and be fine.

Also, to everyone's delight except Harry's, there was to be a Hogsmeade trip later today. 

"We can do all our Christmas shopping there!" said Hermione as they sat in the library. "Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!" 

Resigned to the fact that he would be the only third year staying behind, Harry borrowed a copy of Which Broomstick from Flint, and decided to spend the day reading up on the different strategies. A couple hours after they arrived in the library, Harry bid good-bye to Ron and Hermione, who were wrapped in cloaks and scarves, then turned down the marble staircase alone, and headed back toward the dungeons. Rain had started to fall outside the windows, and the castle was very still and quiet. 

"Psst -- Harry!" He turned, halfway along the corridor, to see Fred and George peering out at him from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch. 

"What are you doing?" asked Harry curiously.  "How come you're not going to Hogsmeade?" 

"We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go," said Fred, with a mysterious wink. "Come in here...." He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. 

Harry followed Fred and George inside. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at Harry. "Early Christmas present for you, Harry," he said. Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Harry, suspecting one of Fred and George's jokes, stared at it. 

"What's that supposed to be?" Harry dumbly asked.

"This, Harry, is the secret of our success," said George, patting the parchment fondly. 

"It's a wrench, giving it to you," said Fred, "but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours."

 "Anyway, we know it by heart," said George. "We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore." 

"And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?" asked Harry. 

"A bit of old parchment!" said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally offended him. "Explain, George." 

"Well... when we were in our first year, Harry -- young, carefree, and innocent --" Harry snorted. 

He doubted whether Fred and George had ever been innocent. 

"Well, more innocent than we are now -- we got into a spot of bother with Filch. We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason --" Fred started.

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual detention disembowelment and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous,” George finished.

"Don't tell me --" said Harry, starting to grin.

"Well, what would you've done?" asked Fred. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed -- this," Fred said, gesturing to the parchment. 

"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," said George. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it." 

"And you know how to work it?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," said Fred, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."

"You're winding me up," accused Harry, looking at the ragged old bit of parchment. 

"Oh, are we?" asked George. He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed: Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP.

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Harry bent over it. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as Harry's eyes traveled up and down the familiar corridors, he noticed something else. This map showed a set of passages he had never entered. And many of them seemed to lead -

"Right into Hogsmeade," said Fred, tracing one of them with his finger. "There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four" -- he pointed them out -- "but we're sure we're the only ones who know about these. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in -- completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump." 

"Moony, Wormtail Padfoot, and Prongs," sighed George, patting the heading of the map. "We owe them so much." 

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," said Fred solemnly. 

"Right," said George briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it or anyone can read it," Fred said warningly. "Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank." 

"So, young Harry," said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, "mind you behave yourself." 

"See you in Honeydukes," said George, winking. 

They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way. Harry stood there, gazing at the miraculous map. He watched the tiny ink Mrs. Norris turn left and pause to sniff at something on the floor. If Filch really didn't know... he wouldn't have to skip out on Hogsmeade at all. Then, he rolled up the map, stuffed it inside his robes, and hurried to the door of the classroom. He opened it a couple of inches. There was no one outside. Very carefully, he edged out of the room and behind the statue of the one-eyed witch. 

What did he have to do? He pulled out the map again and saw to his astonishment that a new ink figure had appeared upon it, labeled Harry Potter. To his relief it seemed to say Harry when his glamour was on. That would be very bad if not. This figure was standing exactly where the real Harry was standing, about halfway down the third-floor corridor. Harry watched carefully. His little Ink self appeared to be tapping the witch with his minute wand. Harry quickly took out his real wand and tapped the statue. Nothing happened. 

He looked back at the map. The tiniest speech bubble had appeared next to his figure. The word inside said, "Dissendium." 

"Dissendium!" Harry whispered, tapping the stone witch again. At once, the statue's hump opened wide enough to admit a fairly thin person. Harry glanced quickly up and down the corridor, then tucked the map away again, hoisted himself into the hole headfirst, and pushed himself forward. He slid a considerable way down what felt like a stone slide, then landed on cold, damp earth. He stood up, looking around. It was pitch dark. 

Harry held up his wand, muttered, "Lumos! " and saw that he was in a very narrow, low, earthy passageway. 

Harry raised the map, tapped it with the tip of his wand, and muttered, "Mischief managed." 

The map went blank at once. Harry folded it carefully, tucked it inside his robes, then, heart beating fast, both excited and apprehensive, he set off. The passage twisted and turned, more like the burrow of a giant rabbit than anything else. Harry hurried along it, stumbling now and then on the uneven floor, holding his wand out in front of him. It took ages, but Harry had the thought of Honeydukes to sustain him. After what felt like an hour, the passage began to rise. Panting, Harry sped up, his face hot, his feet very cold.

Ten minutes later, he came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above him. Careful not to make any noise, Harry began to climb. A hundred steps, two hundred steps, he lost count as he climbed, watching his feet. Then, without warning, his head hit something hard. It seemed to be a trapdoor. Harry stood there, massaging the top of his head, listening. He couldn't hear any sounds above him. Very slowly, he pushed the trapdoor open and peered over the edge. He was in a cellar, which was full of wooden crates and boxes. Harry climbed out of the trapdoor and replaced it -- it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was impossible to tell it was there. 

Harry crept slowly toward the wooden staircase that led upstairs. Now he could definitely hear voices, not to mention the tinkle of a bell and the opening and shutting of a door. Wondering what he ought to do, he suddenly heard a door open much closer at hand; somebody was about to come downstairs. 

"And get another box of Jelly Slugs, dear, they've nearly cleaned us out --" said a woman's voice. A pair of feet was coming down the staircase. Harry leapt behind an enormous crate and waited for the footsteps to pass. He heard the man shifting boxes against the opposite wall. He might not get another chance…

 Quickly and silently, Harry dodged out from his hiding place and climbed the stairs; looking back, he saw an enormous backside and shiny bald head, buried in a box. Harry reached the door at the top of the stairs, slipped through it, and found himself behind the counter of Honeydukes -- he ducked, crept sideways, and then straightened up. 

Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one looked twice at Harry. He edged among them, looking around, and suppressed a laugh as he imagined the look that would spread over Dudley's piggy face if he could see where Harry was now. There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. 

Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbet balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet another wall were "Special Effects" -- sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps ("breathe fire for your friends!"), Ice Mice ("hear your teeth chatter and squeak!"), peppermint creams shaped like toads ("hop realistically in the stomach!"), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons. 

Harry squeezed himself through a crowd of sixth years and saw a sign hanging in the farthest corner of the shop (UNUSUAL TASTES). Ron and Hermione were standing underneath it, examining a tray of blood-flavored lollipops. Harry sneaked up behind them. 

"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was saying. 

"How about these?" asked Ron, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose. 

"Definitely not," said Harry. Ron nearly dropped the jar. 

"Harry!" squealed Hermione. "What are you doing here? How -- how did you --?" 

"Wow!" said Ron, looking very impressed, "you've learned to Apparate!" 

"'Course I haven't," said Harry. He dropped his voice so that none of the sixth years could hear him and told them all about the Marauder's Map. 

"How come Fred and George never gave it to me!" said Ron, outraged. "I'm their brother!" 

"But Harry isn't going to keep it!" said Hermione, as though the idea were ludicrous. "He's going to hand it in to Professor McGonagall, aren't you, Harry?" 

"No, I'm not!" said Harry. 

"Are you mad?" asked Ron, goggling at Hermione. "Hand in something that good?" 

"If I hand it in, I'll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George had nicked it!" Harry defended.

"But what about Sirius Black?" Hermione hissed. "He could be using one of the passages on that map to get into the castle! The teachers have got to know!" 

"He can't be getting in through a passage," said Harry quickly. "There are seven secret tunnels on the map, right? Fred and George reckon Filch already knows about four of them. And of the other three -- one of them's caved in, so no one can get through it. one of them's got the Whomping Willow planted over the entrance, so you can't get out of it. And the one I just came through -well - - it's really hard to see the entrance to it down in the cellar, so unless he knew it was there..." Harry hesitated. What if Black did know the passage was there?

Ron, however, cleared his throat significantly, and pointed to a notice pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door. 

BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Customers are reminded that until further notice, dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the recapture of Sirius Black. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall. Merry Christmas! 

"See?" asked Ron quietly. "I'd like to see Black try and break into Honeydukes with dementors swarming all over the village. Anyway, Hermione, the Honeydukes owners would hear a break-in, wouldn't they? They live over the shop!" 

"Yes, but--" Hermione seemed to be struggling to find another problem. "Look, Harry still shouldn't be coming into Hogsmeade. He hasn't got a signed form! If anyone finds out, he'll be in so much trouble! And it's not nightfall yet -- what if Sirius Black turns up today? Now?" 

"He'd have a job spotting Harry in this," said Ron, nodding through the mullioned windows at the crowd of Hogwarts students. "Come on, Hermione, it's Christmas. Harry deserves a break. Merlin knows everything that's happened lately…" 

Harry smiled. If only they knew the full extent. It’s a miracle Harry hasn’t gone insane and been thrown in St. Mungo’s.

Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried. 

"Are you going to report me?" Harry asked her, grinning. 

"Oh -- of course not -- but honestly, Harry --" Hermione started.

"Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" asked Ron, grabbing him and leading him over to their barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven -- it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick." 

Ron stared broodingly into the Acid Pop box. "Reckon Fred'd take a bit of Cockroach Cluster if I told him they were peanuts?" When Ron and Hermione had paid for all their sweets, the three of them left Honeydukes for the blizzard outside. Hogsmeade looked like an Autumn card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of colorful leaves; there were pumpkins on the porches and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees, already showing off Halloween decorations when it was barely October. Harry shivered against the wind; unlike the other two, he didn't have his cloak. They headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind, Ron and Hermione shouting through their scarves. 

"That's the post office-”

"Zonko's is up there --" 

"We could go up to the Shrieking Shack-”

"Tell you what," said Ron, his teeth chattering, "shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?" Harry was more than willing; the wind was fierce and his hands were freezing, so they crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn. It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlock' up at the bar. 

"That's Madam Rosmerta," said Ron. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?" he added, going slightly red. 

Harry and Hermione made their way to the back of the room, there was a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace. Ron came back five minutes later, carrying three foaming tankards of hot butterbeer. 

"Merry Christmas!" Ron said happily, raising his tankard. Harry drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted and seemed to heat every bit of him from the inside. A sudden breeze ruffled his hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks had opened again. Harry looked over the rim of his tankard and choked. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape had just entered the pub with a flurry of leaves, shortly followed by Lupin, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak -- Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

“Shit!” Harry whispered. In an instant, Ron and Hermione had both placed hands on the top of Harry's head and forced him off his stool and under the table. Dripping with butterbeer and crouching out of sight, Harry clutched his empty tankard and watched the teachers' and Fudge's feet move toward the bar, pause, then turn and walk right toward him. 

Somewhere above him, Hermione whispered, Mobiliarbus!" The poster sign for a band beside their table rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump right in front of their table, hiding them from view. Staring under the poster stand’s legs, Harry saw five chairs move back from the table right in front of theirs, then heard the grunts and sighs of the teachers and minister as they sat down. 

Next he saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and heard a woman's voice. 

"A small gillywater --" 

"Wine," said Professor McGonagall's voice. 

"Four pints of mulled mead --" 

“Irish whiskey-”

Mmm!" said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips. "So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister." 

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us...." 

"Well, thank you very much, Minister." Harry watched the glittering heels march away and back again. His heart was pounding uncomfortably in his throat. Why hadn't it occurred to him that this was a weekend break for the professors too? And how long were they going to sit there? He needed time to sneak back into Honeydukes if he wanted to return to school tonight.... 

Hermione's leg gave a nervous twitch next to him. Harry looked around, trying to find an escape, until he saw a way. A very bad way.

The table next to them, also partially behind the sign, had a couple of old wizards drinking shots of firewhiskey and almost passed out.

But at the table next to the drunk wizards, slightly out of sight due to a partial wall but visible now that Harry was crouched below the table, was Theo, Draco, Blaise, Narcissa Malfoy, and a regal looking woman Harry assumed to be Blaise’s mother, all talking together at a table.

Fucking shit.

Harry had two options. Either somehow crawl past the two tables, including the one occupied by half of his living family, or risk Snape finding him. If Snape found out he went to Hogsmeade…let’s just say that would be bad for Harry, as he kind of maybe technically was not on the list of students.

“I’m going to go out the back,” Harry whispered up to Ron and Hermione. 

“Meet us at the shrieking shack,” Hermione whispered back.

Harry began slowly crawling out of the bottom of their table and over to the table of drunk men, careful to stay concealed behind their chairs.

Harry wished he had brought his invisibility cloak. 

Harry looked up to continue making his way to the exit, when he locked eyes with Theo, who was staring at him along with the others at his table.

Harry smiled and stood up, now concealed by the partial wall in the middle of the Three Broomsticks. 

“Harry? You’re not supposed to be here,” Draco said, confused.

“Of course I am, you must have left Hogwarts after me,” Harry played off, now trying to walk past their table.

“You weren’t on the list,” Blaise said, eyes narrowing.

“Yes I was, Blaise. How else would I have gotten to Hogsmeade?” Harry asked, now very done with this conversation.

“Mother, have you met Harry?” Draco asked his mother.

“I don't believe I have, it is a pleasure,” Narcissa Malfoy replied, well his aunt replied.

“I also have not met your acquaintance, but I am sure that is due to your recent transfer of school houses,” Blaise’s mother said.

Harry just politely nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well but I’m afraid I have somewhere to be,” Harry said, now very obviously trying to walk away.

“Oh nonsense, come sit down,” Lady Malfoy said.

“No really-” Harry started, but was interrupted by Theo grabbing his arm and pulling him into the empty chair next to him. Harry was now in between Theo and Blaise, sitting at a table with his aunt and godmother, and he was fucked.

“I heard you have a proficiency in arithmetic, Mr. Potter. You will have to tutor Theodore,” Lady Zabini said, looking at Theo with a smile.

“Oh no, really I just went to a muggle school before where I had an arithmetic class. I’m sure I’ll be struggling soon once we get through that content,” Harry lied, now glaring at Draco and Blaise every once and a while who were sitting across from him.

“Ah, yes, you live with your muggle relatives, correct?” Lady Malfoy asked.

“Yes, my mothers sister and her husband and son,” Harry politely replied, wanting very much to leave the table.

Theo coughed in a way that suspiciously sounded exactly like the word ‘liar,’ and Harry kicked him in retaliation.

Harry felt a kick back a few seconds later in his shin, and struggled to continue smiling as the adults talked to him while he was busy trying to kick Theo.

“So, you are all on the Quidditch team now? Excellent. I expect we will attend some of your matches. When is the first one?” Lady Zabini asked.

“Two days after Halloween, at 09:00,” Blaise replied.

“And who are you playing?” Lady Zabini asked.

“Gryffindor,” Draco said.

Lady Zabini looked like she was about to ask Harry another question about playing against his old house, and Harry inwardly sighed.

He was saved in that moment though, when Luna walked over from where she was likely sitting with Cho.

“Hello Luna,” Harry politely said.

“Harry, I’m sorry to interrupt but I was wondering if you could come help me with something?” Luna asked, nodding to the other side of the Three Broomsticks.

“Of course Luna, I’m very sorry but it was lovely speaking with you,” Harry said to the table, lying through his teeth.

Harry took Luna’s hand as she walked him over to the exit, still out of eyesight from the professors, and they walked out into the chilly air.

“Luna you saved me,” Harry honestly said.

“I know,” she replied back, walking down the street with Harry following her.

“It is rather sweet that the boys in your dorm should meet with their mothers during their weekend trip,” Luna said, dragging her hand along a bush.

“Maybe,” Harry admitted.

“We don’t really have mothers right now, though, so we cannot know for sure,” Luna blatantly said.

“True,” Harry laughed.

“Maybe someday,” Luna said, trailing off and ending the conversation.

They walked through the woods, the colorful leaves crunching below their feet, until Harry spotted the Shrieking Shack in the distance.

“Why do you reckon they call it the Shrieking Shack? It’s not even really a shack,” he asked.

“They call it the Shrieking Shack because of the screams villagers in Hogsmeade used to hear from inside, but I guess they added ‘shack’ because of human infatuation with alliteration,” Luna wisely said.

“Ah, like ‘live laugh love’ being a saying,” Harry said, understanding.

Luna sent him a confused glance.

“Just something Aunt Petunia has on a sign in her kitchen, and her dining room…and the living room…and I think the bathroom,” Harry said, smiling to himself.

“Harry!” Harry heard Ron shout from where they were coming out of the trees. “Sorry about that, who would've thought the professors had lives outside of Hogwarts? Especially Snape? Meddling bastard, always in the wrong place at the wrong time” Ron muttered.

“Oh calm down Ronald, he's Harry's head of house now, after all,” Hermione said.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry grumbled, taking a seat on a large rock and staring down at his trainers.

“Luna, how is your Hogsmeade trip so far?” Hermione politely asked. Hermione never really understood Luna, but she was always kind to her.

“Oh just fine,” Luna smiled.

“Lovely,” Hermione replied.

They talked for a little more before they escorted Harry back to Honeydukes, and he climbed down the way he came once the shopkeeper was distracted by Ron’s fake attempts to negotiate the price of some jelly slugs.

Later that night, after dinner and Harry reluctantly trudged back to his dorm, he found all of his house mates, excluding Greg and Vince, awake and sitting on the dorm sofas.

“Harry,” Blaise said.

“Blaise,” Harry replied, turning to his trunk.

“You should be careful going to Hogsmeade, with Sirius Black on the loose,” Draco said.

“I think I like my chances when I’m surrounded by a hundred Hogwarts students, but thanks for the advice,” Harry said.

“My mother liked you today, she doesn't like very many people,” Blaise said.

“I’m flattered,” Harry deadpanned, turning to look at them.

“We have reached a consensus,” Draco said.

Oh, fuck. What did that mean? Harry didn't want to know.

“We agree that you can choose to tell them by Halloween, and if you don’t, then we will,” Theo said. He didn't phrase it in a threatening tone, but it was practically a death sentence for Harry. It was October 1st, Halloween was a month from now.

So far, he had gotten people to stay silent with threats. But he didn't really have much to threaten, except- oh.

“I don’t think you will,” Harry nonchalantly said.

“Of course we will,” Draco responded.

“Really? I thought you wanted to win the House Cup?” Harry asked.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Theo asked, face screwing up in confusion.

Harry was a humble person, but he also wasn't stupid. He was the best seeker at Hogwarts, and he could use that.

“Well, I just wouldb’t want you to lose your seeker in the matches this year. It could put you at a massive disadvantage,” Harry said, turning again to look at the boys and make sure the threat was communicated.

“You wouldn't,” Blaise said.

“Oh, I would. You tell them, I’m off the fucking team,” Harry said.

“You’re just like your father, you know that?” Draco asked.

Harry didn't give Draco the privilege of replying to that statement, instead climbing into his bed and pulling the curtains shut. They wouldn't tell. They couldn't.

Harry heard the boys get up from the sofa, and thought the conversation was over until Draco started to speak.

“You know, Damian. We might not tell them, but your father knows you visited Gringotts, you’re in our school and year, and some other things about you. It won’t be long until he figures your identity out. It would be easier if you told them,” the blonde said.

“You can’t avoid the inevitable,” Blaise added.

Harry just shoved his head in his pillow.

His life was so over.