Self-Sufficient, Secretive, and Apparently Friendless
Harry sat next to Hermione in Ancient Runes, avoiding eye contact.
“Was it a project?” she asked casually.
“It was a gift.”
“I really wish you’d let me examine it.”
“Hermione, I’m not going to let you examine my private journal.”
“You should show it to Professor Babbling,” Hermione said. “It might not be safe.”
“Not for other people,” Harry hissed. “Please, drop it.”
After class, Harry walked with her to Defense, somewhat worried she would try to steal his journal.
“We have so much homework for Runes already!” Hermione said when they reached the Defense classroom. “A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, all these readings for Wednesday…”
“Shame,” Ron said, yawning.
“Just write in three-inch high letters,” Harry said. “You do have a tendency to go overboard.”
“You wait, Ronald,” Hermione said. “I bet Snape gives us loads.”
“Don’t jinx us,” Harry said.
Somewhere behind him, he heard Theo sigh.
The door opened, and Snape stepped out, looking as dour as ever. “Inside.”
They filed in, seeing the differences in the room immediately. There was substantially less pink. All the windows were covered, the room was lit by candles. Pictures of the effects of various curses lined the wall. Harry recognized them, having practiced such curses himself. He took a seat next to Hermione and Ron and listened to Snape talk about how cool the dark arts were. Harry was fully on board.
Snape paired them off to practice nonverbal spells, something Harry had been practicing for a while.
Harry paired up with Ron, who was turning blue in the face trying to cast a nonverbal jinx.
“Pathetic, Weasley,” Snape said when he walked past. “Here, let me show you…”
Snape turned his wand on Harry, and he instinctively cast a shield. Whatever it was Snape had cast bounced away.
“Did that help, Ron?” Harry asked, still watching Snape, wand at the ready.
Snape regarded him for a moment, then moved on. Harry caught Theo watching, but he turned away before Harry could react.
After class, Harry told Ron, “You should practice simpler spells nonverbally, to get the hang of it. I don’t know why they expect us to just start doing it sixth year.”
“You and Hermione got it,” Ron said, looking put out.
“It just takes practice, you know how much she studies.”
“Harry! Hey, Harry!”
Harry looked to see one of the old Gryffindor beaters, Jack Sloper, coming at him with a scroll.
“For you,” Sloper said, catching his breath. “I heard you turned down the captain’s position?”
“You what?” Ron shouted.
Harry winced. “I thought Katie deserved it more. I haven’t really played since third year.” He unrolled the scroll, seeing it was for a private lesson with Dumbledore on Saturday. And that the man enjoyed Acid Pops.
During their break, Hermione and Ron speculated on what Dumbledore would be teaching Harry. Both agreed it must be advanced magic, but Harry didn’t think so. Dumbledore had known the prophecy since before Harry was even born. If he wanted to train Harry to defeat Voldemort, or some other powerful wizard, why not start sooner?
He followed Hermione to Arithmancy. “Do you think McGonagall would get us a Time-Turner again?”
“Not without overlapping classes,” Hermione said as they got their books out.
“I saw the room where they keep them,” Harry said. “Maybe I should have grabbed one…”
“Harry! Isn’t it bad enough you broke in?”
“It was really easy, actually. The doors opened automatically, there was no security, no alarms, nothing. There was no breaking at all. Except for all those prophecies…”
After lunch, Harry went down to Care of Magical Creatures, a class neither Hermione nor Ron wished to continue. In fact, when Harry arrived, only one other person had decided to take the N.E.W.T. level for the course.
Hagrid looked devastated. “Just the two of you, eh?”
“I like creatures,” Harry said. “Hermione and Ron have other interests.”
“I, too, like creatures,” Theo said.
“It’s house unity,” Harry said.
“Yes.”
“Your classes are fun.”
“And informative.”
Hagrid sniffed, wiping his eyes. “Glad to hear that, Harry. And you too, Theo. Good lads, taking care of the thestrals...Come on, I’ve got something to show you…”
Harry smiled like an idiot on the way back from the glumbumble hives they were caring for. Having some experience with the gray bees helped, and Harry learned more about the uses of their melancholic honey.
“They are so cute,” he said to Theo. “My favorite type of bee.”
“Can you name other types of bees?” Theo asked as they walked to Potions.
“Bumblebee. Others.”
“How many classes are you taking?”
“Ten. I thought about dropping History of Magic, but it acts like a free period most days, and I can self-study before the N.E.W.T.”
“It’s convenient we’re the only two students in Care,” Theo said. “If anyone asks why we’re going to Care or Potions together, we can act put upon.”
When they arrived at the dungeon classroom there were only ten other students. Theo frowned and went to stand with the Slytherins, completely ignoring Harry.
“Where have you been?” Ron asked. “Why are you with him?”
“We have Care together,” Harry said unhappily. “Hagrid’s only two students.”
“Why don’t you drop it like me and Hermione?”
“It’s interesting and useful,” Harry said, shrugging. “You know I fought a skrewt in the maze. And I ran into a sphinx. And a giant spider, though I don’t think it was an acromantula…”
Ernie Macmillian, the lone Hufflepuff, tried to approach, but the door swung open and Slughorn loudly greeted Harry. And Zabini, who was posing or something.
Bubbling cauldrons at the front of the room emitted heady, mingled scents. Harry was trapped at a table with Hermione, Ron, and Ernie, sitting next to a cauldron that smelled like parchment, chalk, and blood, and made his nose feel cold.
It was a herculean effort not to look at Theo. He didn’t even want to try occluding against it, but he forced his mind to settle. Ron was grinning like a fool next to him.
“Scales out, everyone,” Slughorn said, “and potion kits, and don’t forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making…”
Harry looked at Ron, who didn’t seem to be paying attention. He raised his hand.
“Harry, my boy?”
“Is there any spare equipment? Ron didn’t realize he’d be able to do the N.E.W.T.”
“Go ahead and check the equipment cupboard, my boy, there should be some old books…”
Harry nudged Ron, but he was still disoriented by the fumes. Sighing, Harry got up and went to the cupboard Slughorn had pointed out. The books weren’t in good condition, so he flipped through to find the best one.
“Now then,” Slughorn said, “I’ve prepared a few potions…”
Harry paused when he saw one copy had been annotated by its previous owner. His eyes caught on one instruction for sopophorous bean: Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.
He had seen that tip before, in his mother’s potions book. He’d tested out the various advice she had written for herself over past summers, and wondered who had stumbled across the same solution. Putting the book under his arm for himself, wanting to investigate further, he found another for Ron and a set of mostly balanced scales, then went back to their table.
“It’s Veritaserum,” Hermione was saying. “A colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth.”
Harry raised his hand.
“Yes, Harry?”
“Will we be learning to brew the antidote?”
Slughorn smiled broadly. “Yes, we will! Antidotes will be explored later in the course. Now, this one is pretty well known…”
Hermione was on a roll. Their potions teacher was rewarding her for knowing things for once. Whatever Slughorn was, he was at least decent in that regard.
“Granger? Are you related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?”
“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m a muggleborn.”
Harry saw Malfoy lean in to Theo, whispering something. For a moment Harry imagined strangling him for being so close to his boyfriend. Theo rolled his eyes while Malfoy sniggered at his own joke.
"Oho! 'My friend is known as the best in our year!’ I’m assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?”
“Yes, sir. Unlike some people who buy their way in this world, she succeeds with pure talent.”
“Twenty points for Gryffindor!”
Harry smiled at Malfoy, and saw Theo covering his mouth.
“Did you really tell him I’m the best in the year?” Hermione asked, beaming at him.
“Yeah, within minutes of meeting him.”
“What's so impressive about that?” Ron said mulishly. “I would have told him too!”
The last cauldron was much smaller, and a bright gold liquid splashed happily within it. Felix Felicis, liquid luck, was the prize for whoever brewed the best Draught of Living Death.
Harry took out the old book he had found, scanning the recipe within. The person seemed to know what they were doing—some of the altered steps he would have done on his own—so he went ahead with the recipe. He’d have to check through the entire book and test what the person had done, experiment on his own, see what he could improve…
“Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?”
Harry looked away from his cauldron for a moment. Theo was covering his mouth again as Malfoy tried to get Slughorn’s attention.
“Yes,” said Slughorn, without looking at Malfoy, “I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn’t unexpected, dragon pox at his age…”
“Sir," Harry piped up, "did you know my grandfather, Fleamont Potter?”
“I did!” Slughorn said, turning to him happily. “He was a brilliant potioneer! It was a tragedy he passed away, and your grandmother Euphemia as well…”
Harry glanced at Malfoy and saw him fuming.
“Our family is still profiting from the Sleekeazy patent,” Harry said, smiling broadly. “I was considering improving upon it, as the formula still has some issues with red heads…”
Ron looked at him like he was crazy.
Hermione was glaring at his cauldron. “How are you doing that?”
“I’ve been practicing brewing during the summer.” Harry said, stirring once clockwise. “I knew Snape would never be a good teacher for me, and my mum left some potions books behind that I found.”
“Oh,” Hermione said quietly, turning back to her work.
Harry looked around the room to see how everyone was doing. Something tragic had happened in Ron’s cauldron. Harry’s by far looked the best.
“Time's up! Stop stirring, please!”
Slughorn walked down their table, acknowledging only Hermione until he got to Harry.
“The clear winner!”
Harry embarrassingly blushed under Slughorn’s praise. Like almost everyone else in the room, Snape had never given him any positive feedback. All of his essays the year before had been given low marks without comment, so he had to compare with Theo’s to know whether he had got something wrong. He had practiced potions a lot, ever since he found his mother’s potions book and realized it was something she had been interested in. Slughorn’s praise was one of the rare times someone compared Harry to his mother.
Harry tucked the small vial of liquid luck away, not wanting to tempt anyone. It was an extraordinary prize for following a recipe.
“How did you do that?” Ron whispered to them as they left class.
“I studied and practiced,” Harry said. “I worked pretty hard to get an O on the O.W.L., you know.”
Later, as he was going through the book, checking it against his own notes, he noticed on the back cover it said, in small, cramped handwriting, This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince.
Harry smiled at that, wondering who it could be.
Whoever the Half-Blood Prince was, they were exceptionally skilled and interested in potions. There were also a number of spells written in the margins, which Harry suspected the author had invented. He and Theo tested some out in the Room of Requirement that Saturday.
Harry waved his wand.
In a flash of light, the training dummy flew up in the air and dangled upside down by its ankle.
“I’ve seen this spell before,” Harry said, tilting his head. “I saw my dad use it on Snape in Snape’s memory. And at the Quidditch World Cup riot."
Theo looked up from the Prince’s potions book. “Do you think your father found this book too?”
“I think anyone who found it would keep it,” Harry said. “The person who made those notes is a potions prodigy. You’ve heard what Slughorn has said to me in class. I would have done well enough on my own,” he added, “but I’m not passionate about potions like Prince is. Or was.”
“The handwriting looks familiar,” Theo said, flipping through.
Harry performed the counterjinx and the dummy landed.
“What’s the next spell?”
“Sectumsempra. It says it’s for enemies.”
Harry checked his watch. “I have to meet Dumbledore in about five minutes. We’ll test that one later.”
Harry checked the Marauder's Map to see if they were clear. "No one's in the corridor, let's go."
Theo handed him the potions book back. Harry pulled him into a kiss, and they left the room, going their separate ways. He passed by Trelawney using muggle playing cards for cartomancy and muttering to herself, reeking of sherry.
“Knave of spades,” she said, then stopped to look at him.
“Not quite,” Harry said, smiling and moving on.
Harry got into Dumbledore’s office and sat down to listen to Dumbledore’s rambling. Then the old man got out his Pensieve. Harry watched him struggle to remove the cork out of a vial with his dead hand.
“Are you going to explain why your hand is cursed?” Harry asked
“Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden.”
Not yet, Harry thought as Dumbledore used his wand to eject the cork.
Harry watched a man dressed in the bizarre manner of wizards imitating muggles walk down the lane to Little Hangleton. Down through overgrown hedge, past old trees, to a rundown shack. A dead snake had been nailed to the front door. A bedraggled man emerged, looking like a victim of inbreeding and speaking parseltongue. The Ministry employee, Ogden, struggled to communicate with him. Harry wondered if the other man could speak English at all. An older man came out who could speak English. Morfin, his son, was sent back in. Ogden followed.
Inside the house, Merope Gaunt, the daughter, was busy cooking and being screamed at by her father.
Harry felt immense pity for all of them, particularly Merope.
“Do you know who you’re talking to, you filthy little mudblood, do you?”
“I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr. Gaunt,” Ogden said.
Gaunt presented Ogden with the ring he was wearing, a heavy gold ring with a black stone, which he said was engraved with the Peverell coat of arms. Harry frowned, as the name sounded familiar. Then Gaunt seized a locket Merope was wearing and dragged her over, choking her. He said it had been Salazar Slyterin’s, and they were his last living descendents.
Harry doubted any of them had even been to Hogwarts.
As Ogden tried to give Morfin his summons again, horses passed outside.
“Tom, I might be wrong, but has someone nailed a snake to that door?”
Harry watched Merope, who had gone horribly pale.
“He wouldn’t have you anyway,” Morfin hissed at her.
Gaunt began strangling his daughter for looking at a muggle with anything other than hatred. Ogden spelled him away from her, then ran as Morfin chased him with a knife, as Merope screamed.
Dumbledore took Harry’s arm and pulled him out of the memory.
“Did she get help?” he asked.
“She survived,” Dumbledore started.
“That’s not the same thing,” Harry said heatedly.
“No,” Dumbledore said. “It’s not. Ogden did return quickly with reinforcements…”
Harry listened to how Morfin and his father, Marvolo, were sent to Azkaban for three years and six months respectively. It was easy to guess that Merope was Voldemort’s mother, and the man on the horse Tom Riddle, his father. No wonder the man had rejected his name and created a new one.
Dumbledore’s theory, that Merope had spelled or potioned Tom Riddle Sr, sexually assaulted him, got pregnant, and was later abandoned once the man was freed from the magic, was plausible.
On his way out of the room, Harry noticed the ring, the Peverell ring, had been placed on display. He leaned closer to see the coat of arms. Dumbledore refused to answer any questions about it.
Hermione was feeling guilty about Hagrid, and Ron had quidditch tryouts. Harry was interested in neither, given he was having a great time in Care with Theo, tending to the various creatures who made Hogwarts home and the new ones Hagrid addictively acquired. And given he had quit the quidditch team.
"I don't understand why tryouts are so popular this year," he mused, swirling his tea and contemplating whether he wanted to read anything in it.
“It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you!" Hermione said. "You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable."
Harry listened to her talking about why he was fanciable with one ear; there was only one person he was interested in attracting. He thought about Dumbledore's ring and tipped his cup over.
"...Come on, can’t you see why people are fascinated by you?”
Ron choked on his kipper. He always ate too fast.
"That doesn't explain tryouts," Harry said, flipping the cup over. The leaves had formed a somewhat rectangular shape, though distorted by the cup, with breaks in it. Small shapes surrounded it, triangles, dots… "Especially since I've quit the quidditch team."
Ron looked like he was struggling to breathe. Hermione hit him in the back and a piece of half-chewed fish flew out.
Harry accompanied them down to the quidditch pitch. The shape the tea leaves had taken felt familiar, like something he had seen long ago.
Katie Bell had to kick out people from other houses who had come for the fanciable Harry Potter. She left the keeper tryout for last.
Harry noticed Cormac McLaggen's broom swerved out of the way of his last save. It didn't look natural, but if Katie didn't notice that wasn't his problem.
After Ron somehow maintained his position on the team, Harry followed him and Hermione to Hagrid's. He was the only one Hagrid greeted. The man knew how to hold a grudge.
“We really wanted to carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know," Hermione said, "but we couldn't fit it into our schedules."
"Harry could," Hagrid said gruffly. "And he's taking ten N.E.W.T.s!"
"I make time for what's important," Harry said beatifically.
That's when they noticed a barrel filled with giant, squelching maggots.
"Are those for our next lesson?" Harry asked, approaching even as Hermione and Ron scrambled away.
"They're for Aragog," Hagrid said. He started to cry.
"He's very old for a spider," Harry said gently. "Would we be able to meet him, or will he try to eat us?"
"The colony's a bit restive," Hagrid sobbed, "now that Aragog's ill…"
On the way to dinner, they saw McLaggen bouncing off the walls, unable to balance. Harry had done worse than Confund someone, so he couldn't judge Hermione too harshly.
"Why did you do it?" Harry asked her.
Hermione blushed. "You should have heard what he said about Ginny and Ron!"
"There is a history of you using magic against people who say things you don't like," Harry said thoughtfully. "That one time you punched Malfoy—"
"What are you two doing?" Ron demanded, looking suspicious.
"Talking?" Harry said, perplexed, following him into the Great Hall.
Slughorn blocked his path to dinner, inviting him to supper in his rooms later. A supper party.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I have a prior engagement and it would be in poor taste to reschedule on such short notice. Perhaps next time?"
Harry flat out lied to his friends and said he had another lesson with Dumbledore, then went to meet with Theo.
“It’s Snape’s handwriting,” Theo said one day as they walked back to the castle from Care.
Hagrid had smuggled a breeding pair of jackalopes into the country, and they learned about both their horns and fur being used as wand cores. Harry had puzzled over a rabbit growing deer antlers, and speculated that it was a kind of chimera. They were cute, if a little dangerous during breeding season.
“The Prince’s?” Harry asked. “That would explain a lot of things. He was friends with my mum, so they may have studied together. He fought my dad, so my dad could have picked up that spell from him. He’s a genius at potions, and is interested in dark arts. That Sectumsempra spell is rather vicious. He did have to create a counter to it as well. Him being a halfblood isn’t far-fetched. What about the Prince part?”
“From what you’ve said, he was seriously bullied in school,” Theo said. “And he’s very arrogant now.”
“We could use one of the spells without a counter,” Harry suggested. “Langlock. You could go to him and see if he can reverse it.”
“Or another Slytherin,” Theo said.
“I don’t know anything about his background,” Harry said, “except he grew up with my mother in Cokeworth. I could ask my aunt, but she hated him.”
“Or we could ask around that town,” Theo said. “Any luck on Peverell?”
“No. Sirius said it sounded familiar, but he hasn’t learned anything either. Have you found out anything about the job Malfoy's got?"
Theo shook his head.
They walked up the steps to the castle.
"It's Hogsmeade weekend," Harry said. "Want to go somewhere?"
Filch was jabbing everyone with various sensors as part of the castle's heightened security, so Harry and Theo snuck out through the fourth floor secret passage and out of the cave.
"Should we call Kreacher?" Theo asked.
"No, he'd tell everyone and I doubt any of them would be pleased with us. And I think I can make it."
"From Scotland to Surrey."
"...Yes."
Theo cupped Harry's face and squeezed his cheeks together. "Your cheeks are cold. You should have worn a scarf." He leaned closer. "You're absurd."
Once freed, Harry took Theo's hand and apparated them to the alley he'd been attacked in.
"That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," Theo said, swaying. Harry rubbed his back in apology.
"I just realized Mrs. Figg might see us," Harry said, taking out the cloak. He threw it over both of them, noticing that it somehow covered them completely despite the height difference. Chalking it up to magic, Harry led them to Number 4 Privet Drive. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Vernon's car.
They went around back, wary of watchers. Harry stepped out of the cloak and knocked on the back door.
After a few moments, Petunia answered.
"What are you doing here?"
"I have some questions I need answers to," Harry said.
"I have nothing to say to you, or your kind," she hissed.
"Did you know I can speak to snakes?" Harry said. "I used to talk to snakes in the garden. I talked to that one in the zoo that escaped. Shall I call them now?"
Petunia stuck her head out and looked around, then waved her hand frantically. "In the kitchen."
Harry quietly walked into the kitchen, spotting Vernon on the sofa, watching the television.
"Make it quick," Petunia said in a low voice.
"You grew up in Cokeworth?"
"Yes."
"With Severus Snape?"
"Yes!"
"I need the names of Severus Snape's parents."
"Eileen and Tobias."
Petunia looked at the door to the living room.
"Was one of them my sort?"
"The mother."
Harry hesitated, then asked, "What were my grandparents names?"
Petunia looked furious.
"Get. Out."
Harry shook his head then quickly left out the back door.
"Pet, what is it?"
"Nothing, just the neighbors. Have you seen what Mrs. Number…"
Harry rejoined Theo under the cloak. "He's a halfblood," Harry said.
"What should we do now?"
Harry sighed. "We could look into his parents? Snape is probably a muggle name. What's his mother's maiden name?"
"Prince could be a name," Theo said. "Eileen Prince."
"Unless we ask around Cokeworth, which is a bad idea, or ask Snape, which is a worse one, I doubt we'll find out."
"Old school records," Theo said. "Ask one of the older teachers."
Harry checked his watch. "It's still early. Do you want to go around Hogsmeade?"
Theo looked at the sky. "No Ministry owls. I think we're fine."
Back in the alley, Harry tucked the cloak away. "Do you want to do it this time?"
"I don't think distance matters," Theo said, taking his hand.
"What do you mean, of course it—"
Harry landed on his knees. The world was spinning. "Not fun."
"Sorry," Theo said, helping him up. "It looks like the weather turned."
Their clothes and hair were already damp with sleet, and it was freezing. Theo put his arm around Harry and helped him back into the cave.
"I think I need to sit down for a while," Harry said. "It's cold."
Theo lowered him to the ground and Harry, who wanted to be warmer, waved his hand and cleared an area. Blue flames flared into life, a cheery fire on the cave floor.
"I've seen Hermione make those before," Harry said, eyes dancing with blue lights. "Bluebell flames. Pretty."
"Yes," Theo said, placing a hand on Harry's cold cheek. Harry turned to look up at him. "I agree."
Katie Bell had been cursed and Harry was back on the team.
In a moment of weakness, Harry had found Theo in the library the morning after he heard the news.
"If we had gone to Hogsmeade this never would have happened," Harry mumbled into Theo's shoulder. "This is sabotage."
Harry got the full story from Hermione and Ron. McGonagall personally appealed to him. The team was desperate.
"Bell said she was intending to give the package to someone else," Theo said. "That Hufflepuff friend of hers said she was under Imperius."
"Maybe I can Imperius Ron into being a better player," Harry said mutinously. "We need another chaser. Picking our team captain and lead chaser was a calculated move. I will destroy whoever is behind this."
"Malfoy has been acting odd lately," Theo suggested. "He has a history of targeting your team."
"And a job presumably as punishment for his father's failure. Who was Katie taking that necklace to?"
"They could easily get an Imperiused student to touch it directly, or arrange for some other means of contact. She was taking it back to the castle on a day most students were in Hogsmeade. That suggests a teacher."
"Any teacher would have recognized it as something cursed," Harry said. "So is the true sender naive? Ignorant? Was Katie chosen intentionally or out of convenience?"
Theo picked up his hand, turning it over to look at Harry's watch. "Don't you have second tryouts?"
"I don't even have properly fitting gear," Harry complained, but he stared deeply into Theo's eyes, flung himself into Theo's arms, then hurried out of the library to his doom.
“These are desperate times,” Harry said, pacing in front of the broom-wielding hopefuls grouped up on the pitch. Harry stopped walking to look at them.
“But we’re not here for speeches. We’re here to play quidditch. I will respect the decisions Katie made during the original tryouts. Ron, you’re staying as keeper. Jimmy and Ritchie as beaters. Demelza, chaser.” He sighed. “I’ll be seeker.”
The four nodded and stepped to the side. Ron looked like he was going to be sick.
“Now, I need to fill two chaser positions…”
In the end, Harry chose Dean and Ginny as the two new chasers, and had them and Demelza pelt Ron with quaffles while placing an order for his own quidditch gear. He mournfully watched Hedwig carry the letter away.
In his next Voldemort history lesson with Dumbledore, Harry learned Merope had sold the locket for a mere ten galleons, heavily pregnant and in great need, to Caractacus Burke of Borgin and Burkes.
“Why didn’t she use magic?” Harry asked.
Dumbledore thought she might not have wanted to be a witch anymore, or perhaps had lost her magic to unrequited love and hopelessness, a thing that could actually happen.
Harry was taken into Dumbledore’s own memory of him visiting Wool’s Orphanage. Harry couldn’t fathom why Dumbledore thought a velvet plum suit was an appropriate thing to wear to a 1940s orphanage, but was forced to watch nevertheless. Mrs. Cole, the matron, asked too many questions so young Dumbledore used magic to addle her, then proceeded to get her drunk.
He watched Mrs. Cole, who reminded him strongly of Petunia, as she enumerated the many oddities of one Tom Marvolo Riddle. Scaring the other children, nasty incidents, the hanging of Billy Stubb’s rabbit, a cave at the seaside.
“I don’t think many people will be sorry to see the back of him,” she said, tossing back her gin.
Harry had never done things like that as a child, but the people of Little Whinging acted as if he did. And Dumbledore took it all at face value. How would he have treated Harry had he spoken to Petunia before meeting him?
Eleven-year-old Tom was terrified and angry at the threat of being taken to an asylum. Confronted with a strange man in stranger clothing, he lashed out. Tom didn’t trust young Dumbledore. Harry wished he had been as clever.
“What is it that you can do?” Dumbledore asked.
“I can make things move without touching them.” Tom was excited. Finally he had proof of the special things he could do, sitting in his orphanage room, dressed in clothing worth more than the food he ate. “I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”
Harry grimaced. Of course he spilled everything, he was eleven and had no one to talk to. Tom latched onto the first person who validated his existence. Harry had done the same thing. Hagrid, at first. Ron. Hermione.
Then Dumbledore set Tom’s wardrobe on fire.
“What the fuck?” he said, turning to the older version of the man. “You could have shown him anything!”
“Keep watching,” Dumbledore said intently.
The wardrobe stopped burning, and Tom took out a shaking box, promising to return the contents to their original orders.
“No wonder he hates you,” Harry said, watching as Tom quickly modified his behavior, realizing too late that Dumbledore wasn’t an ally. “From the very beginning you established dominance. You used a display of power to force him into obedience.”
“I can speak to snakes,” Tom said, still trying to impress young Dumbledore, perhaps with a less violent power. “I found out when we’ve been to the country on trips—they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?”
“Just say it is,” Harry insisted, watching as young Dumbledore hesitated.
“It is unusual, but not unheard of…”
Harry was pulled out of the memory to listen to Dumbledore justify himself.
“...He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control.”
“To protect himself,” Harry said, interrupting him. “You have no idea how that Mrs. Cole person or the other children treated him. You have no idea what he went through there, or why he did any of those things.”
Dumbledore looked out of the window, at the darkening sky.
“Tom continued acting that way in school, and later in life,” he finally said. “I kept an eye on him at Hogwarts…but we have other things to discuss.”
Dumbledore explained how, he believed, Voldemort was contemptuous of his common first name. His muggle name. That he was self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless, something Harry frowned at. He was, or had been, those things too, and he didn’t think any of that was wrong to be. And that young Tom Riddle collected trophies. Something Harry also had done. The things he had hidden in his cupboard, or under a floorboard. Moody’s eye…
As Harry got up to leave, disgusted by the entire evening, he noticed the Peverell ring was gone.
Harry and Theo walked through the graveyard at Godric’s Hollow. They had escaped during the Halloween feast, and retraced the path Harry took when he was thirteen.
“What is Grindelwald's symbol doing here?” Theo asked, stopping at a particularly old headstone. Harry turned back to look, seeing a triangle with a circle and line inscribed inside.
“That’s the Peverell coat of arms,” Harry said. “Whose grave is this?”
“It’s hard to make out,” Theo said, crouching down. “Ignotus…Peverell.”
“I knew I had heard the name before,” Harry said, smiling. “The Peverells were from Godric’s Hollow? Same with the Dumbledores, and the Potters, at least some members of the family…”
Harry stood up so quickly it made his head spin. “I have a great idea. I know exactly who we can ask!”
“Who?”
“Bathilda Bagshot.”
For the first time in three years, Harry visited his parents’ grave. He introduced them to Theo, feeling a little ridiculous, but this was the only way they could meet. They left flowers, and the offerings they’d got from the kitchens at school, and said their goodbyes before it got too dark.
“I hope she isn’t asleep,” Harry said as they walked up the street.
“We should ask about the Dumbledore graves we saw, too,” Theo said.
Harry found the right house and saw a dim glow from behind the curtains. “This is so rude, just showing up to her house at night.” Harry looked across the street to where his house—his parents’ house—still stood.
“What are you looking at?” Theo asked.
“The house where my parents died,” Harry said. “It’s still under Fidelius. We’d have to kill Pettigrew to change the Secret-Keeper.” Harry shook his head. “Let’s make this quick, I don’t want to keep her too long.”
Harry opened the gate and walked quickly through the garden, then rapped on the door.
Minutes passed. He heard soft noises from inside so he waited patiently.
The door creaked open. “Who is it?” a voice tired with age asked.
“It’s Harry Potter, professor,” Harry said. “I’m not sure if you remember me, it’s been a few years.”
“Harry Potter?” The door opened wider. “I haven’t seen you since you were a baby…”
Harry smiled at the little old woman in her dressing gown. “I was taken away by Hagrid right?”
“Rubeus Hagrid,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, what are you in Godric’s Hollow for?”
“I was looking into my family’s history,” Harry said. “I don’t have anyone to ask, and I was hoping you’d be able to help? I know you’ve lived here for a long time.”
“Well, come in out of the cold,” she said, waving them in.
“I’ve brought my friend with me, Theodore Nott.”
“Theodore Nott, is it? I remember that book Cantankerus Nott wrote…” Professor Bagshot shook her head as she led them into her sitting room. “That man was a fool, I’m sorry to say, dear.”
“I fully agree, professor,” Theo said.
“You two sit down. Sit! I’ll get the tea…”
They watched her shuffle away to her kitchen.
“What book?” Harry asked quietly.
“A list of families he claimed were pureblood. Most of them weren’t, and there were plenty of purebloods left off. What my grandfather was thinking, I have no idea.”
“He was thinking the same thing my grand-nephew did,” Professor Bagshot said, returning with a tray. “That wizards are superior to muggles.”
“What’s your grand-nephew’s name?” Harry asked politely, helping pour the tea.
“Thank you, dear,” she said, taking a cup. “His name is Gellert.”
Bagshot took a sip of her tea, unaware of how stunned the two teenagers were.
“Gellert Grindelwald?” Theo asked tentatively.
“One and the same.”
“Right,” Harry said. She had mentioned her nephew was bad the last time he spoke to her. He hadn’t realized how bad. “I have two questions about some of the graves I saw near my parents. Who were Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore?”
Bagshot took another sip of tea, nodding. “Kendra was the mother. Ariana was the sister. The father died in Azkaban. Ariana…what a tragedy. She had no control over her magic, and killed her mother in an accident. Now Ariana, Ariana was killed when the boys were fighting. They always did fight…”
“Which boys?” Harry prompted.
“Oh, Albus and Gellert. You could never see one without the other. And Aberforth, but everyone always did forget Aberforth…They didn’t always live here, you know. Kendra moved the children after Percival was sent to Azkaban…”
Harry looked wide eyed at Theo as Bagshot explained how Dumbledore’s father had attacked some muggle children without explanation.
Harry cleared his throat. “I also saw a grave for Ignotus Peverell. Why did it have the same symbol Grindel…Gellert used?”
Bagshot’s expression darkened. “The Deathly Hallows.”
“I’m sorry?”
Bagshot looked at him with watery eyes. “You’ve heard the Tale of the Three Brothers, my dear?”
Theo’s eyes widened in recognition. “We have,” he quickly said.
Bagshot explained how, after Grindelwald had been expelled from Durmstrang, he lived with her in Godric’s Hollow and spent all his time researching something, or with Dumbledore. After a while, she started to drift, and Harry cleared up the tea while Theo made their excuses. She seemed to forget they were even there.
“That was…” Theo started as they walked down the street. He looked at the dark, cloudy sky. “We need to get back before the feast is over.”
“I’m surprised she’s still alive. She knows a lot of dangerous things."
Harry shivered and tugged his scarf up, pressing under Theo's arm. "So, what’s the Tale of the Three Brothers?”