Socks and Snitches
Harry stared up at the black fortress with no small amount of trepidation. Fawkes had agreed to bring him here after some argument, and Kreacher was still riding the high of annihilating Salazar Slytherin’s locket.
It was cold this high up in the mountains, even in July. Harry could see snow capping the nearest peaks, pine trees scrabbling for purchase on the sheer cliffs. Nurmengard stood stark against this, shaped by stones of the deepest black. A narrow building with tall windows stood to one side. Before him was a courtyard with high walls. Inside this courtyard was a square tower with a sharp roof piercing the sky. He looked to the highest room with the smallest window.
Harry walked towards the gate, tugging Kreacher along, Fawkes roosting in his hair.
“You don’t need to hold my hand,” Harry said, waving his wand to unlock the gate.
“Young Master is meeting the greatest dark wizard,” Kreacher said. “Master says millions of muggles died in the war.”
“Most of those were killed by other muggles,” Harry said, looking into the black-barred cells lining the courtyard. All stood empty. “Grindelwald wanted to rule muggles, to subjugate them.” Harry looked up at the tower again. “He’s been here for over fifty years. Is he too dangerous to break out, or too weak for anyone to bother?”
They stopped in front of the door to the tower, and Harry traced it with his wand.
“It’s just a door,” he said, pulling it open to a staircase that spiraled against the walls, leaving only a well in the middle. “And just a staircase.”
Harry started up the staircase, climbing higher and higher, a longer path than it seemed from the outside. His steps echoed through the empty tower, a hollow and desolate sound.
"I'm only visiting," Harry said, pausing to catch his breath. "You know I don't belong here.
Around the next turn he saw the end in sight, a ceiling, the underside of a floor into which the stairs led.
"Albus, is that you?" a voice weakly called, accent softened with age. Harry's heart twinged. The man sounded so resigned, pathetically hopeful. Fawkes gave a low cry. "Fawkes?"
"I'm sorry," Harry called, reaching the landing. The room was cold, dark, and bare. Bars divided it, and inside was a skeletal old man, curled up on a thin mattress with a thinner blanket. "I'm not him."
"A boy, a phoenix, and a house-elf," the old man said wearily. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Harry walked to the cage, keeping far enough away so the man couldn't grab him. "I had a question for you."
"I didn't see you coming," Grindelwald said, eyes unfocused. Harry glanced at the lone window, too high up for the man to reach. It took Harry a moment to realize what he meant.
"That's fine, a drunk named Trelawney did."
"Trelawney? Not Cassandra?"
"No, her great-great-granddaughter. She doesn't remember doing it."
"Is that so…What is your name, child?"
"Harry Potter. You may have heard of me, even here."
"Perhaps," the old man said, laughing until it turned into a hacking cough. "What does the chosen one want with me?"
Harry sat down on the floor. "You went to Durmstrang. You got your wand from Gregorovitch."
Harry noticed Grindelwald's renewed regard. "I did."
"Dumbledore defeated you, but left you alive."
"Obviously. Is there a point to this?"
"When Dumbledore died, he was buried with a wand."
Grindelwald sat up with shocking speed. "Albus is dead?"
"I'm sorry," Harry said. "It happened a few days ago. He was killed by Severus Snape, the potions master at Hogwarts."
Grindelwald relaxed into his mattress. "I see. He was defeated."
"That's an interesting way to put it."
"Is that why you're here, child? Afraid the wand is lost to you? Do you want power? Are you a budding dark lord? Albus would spin in his grave to have raised another one!"
"I want agency," Harry said. "Free will. Prophecy still necessitates a choice. A choice to hear it, to preserve it, to share it, to interpret it, to act on it."
Grindelwald watched him carefully. "What is your question, Harry Potter?"
"You've already answered it." Harry stood up again, stretching his legs. "It would be best for you to forget this conversation."
Harry pulled a rolled up pair of socks from his pocket, one of the mismatched pairs Dobby made. Lemon drops and phoenixes.
"When I asked Dumbledore what he saw in the Mirror of Erised, he told me he saw himself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks. One can never have enough socks."
Harry tossed them into the cell and walked away. "I've always wondered what he really saw."
“How did it go?” Sirius asked, sitting down across from Harry.
Harry was having tea in the kitchen. He’d found his old owl teapot and matching tea cups and had been listening to the teapot hoot softly as it billowed steam. Theo sat down next to him, watching him.
“How did what go?” Theo asked.
“I went to Nurmengard,” Harry said, watching the dark liquid swirl in his cup, the sodden leaves drifting in unsettled patterns. “I talked briefly to Gellert Grindelwald, and he confirmed a suspicion that I had.”
“Did he,” Theo asked, looking intently at him.
Harry sighed. Of course Theo would know what Harry was interested in.
“What suspicion?” Sirius asked, frowning.
Harry hesitated, then took a sip of his tea. He looked at Theo imploringly.
“Grindelwald was obsessed with the Deathly Hallows,” Theo explained. “From the Tale of the Three Brothers. Harry wanted to know if he actually believed they were real.”
Harry nodded mutely and kept drinking.
“You went to talk to the most notorious dark wizard to see if he believed in a fairy tale,” Sirius said flatly. “You could have asked him anything…”
Harry took another sip. "I’m curious what’s keeping him in that cell,” Harry said. “It didn’t seem like magic to me.”
“A vow,” Theo said. “Many would give a vow to remain imprisoned in exchange for their life. If he breaks it, he dies, depending on the strength of the vow.”
“And Dumbledore did leave him alive,” Harry said. “I imagine house-elves deliver him food, but little else. He only had an old mat and a blanket.”
Sirius looked at him incredulously. “You don’t feel bad for him, do you?"
Harry scrubbed a hand through his hair, shifting uncomfortably. “You know how I feel about prison.”
“About Azkaban,” Sirius said. “About dementors guarding a prison.”
“There were other inmates in Azkaban…”
“Yeah, screaming or crying all the time! It was worse when they went silent…” Sirius’ eyes got a distant look, but snapped back to Harry. “We weren’t socializing in there, you know.”
“I know,” Harry said. Theo poured more tea in his cup, accompanied by hoots. “So, how was Nott Manor?”
“You’ll never guess where it is,” Sirius said, eyes alight with mischief. “Not in a million years.”
Harry looked at Theo closely, marking the details of his stoic expression for the smallest of movements. “Wales.”
“You’re only saying that for the cover you invented,” Theo said loftily, pouring his own hooting cup of tea.
“The perfect crime,” Harry declared, moving closer.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Theo stated. “Your non sequiturs....”
“I saw a puffin,” Sirius said excitedly.
“A puffin? The chubby bird with the beak?”
“All birds have beaks, Harry. It would be more accurate to say Sirius chased a puffin.”
“They’ve got puffins in Wales,” Harry said defensively. “No, I know the Notts speak Old Norse, so somewhere in northern Scotland?”
“Fair Isle!”
“You’ve never given me anything knitted,” Harry said, voice weighty with accusation. “You know how I feel about knitwear.”
“I do not,” Theo said.
“Years of Weasley sweaters, of Hermione’s house-elf hats. Dobby’s socks! Oh,” Harry said. “I gave Grindelwald a pair of socks. I was worried about giving him anything at all, who knows what he could do with it.”
“Giving presents to dark lords,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “What kind of child have I raised?”
“It’s not as though I’ve been sending gift baskets to Voldemort,” Harry said. “I don’t even know if he needs human food anymore!”
“Is that all that’s stopping you?”
“Will you go back?” Theo asked. “He may know something that could help us.”
“Maybe,” Harry said. “But Voldemort was after his time. Riddle was barely out of school by the time Dumbledore dueled him. I think he had just graduated.”
“Coincidence?” Theo suggested. “Or was Dumbledore waiting to be done with keeping an eye on Riddle while he was at Hogwarts?”
“If that’s so, Dumbledore is worse than we thought.”
“Thank you, Kreacher,” Sirius said as dinner appeared before them. “Herring?”
“Tatties and herring,” Theo said knowingly, picking up his fork with unusual enthusiasm.
“Theo’s Scottish,” Harry said reverently. “This whole time, and we never knew.”
Harry set up his potions station. A silver cauldron, water, silver lime…
“Are you making that?” Theo said from his side. He was perched on a stool, reading a book.
“Making what?” a haughty voice demanded.
“You know there’s a reason you’re blindfolded,” Harry said to the portrait of Phineas.
“I’m here on pain of being burned off the family tree,” Phineas said. He was poutier than most of the Black family. “Surely the blindfold is unnecessary?”
“You’re one of the headmaster’s spies,” Harry said, pouring in the water. “Who knows what tales you’ve carried to him about this family over the years. All the trouble you’ve caused for becoming headmaster for a lark.”
“A lark?" Phineas said, offended. "You are the most disrespectful child of the Black family I have ever met,” Phineas declared. “And I’ve met my great-great-grandnephew.”
Harry decided to ignore him. “I can’t start that for a few weeks,” Harry said. “I’m making something for Nev’s birthday.”
Harry pointed at the two shallow circular trays. Theo frowned slightly, considering.
“I understand. And for us as well?”
“And Luna, though it’s a lot to carry around. I haven’t solved that yet.”
“Solved what?” Phineas burst out.
Harry watched the portrait pace back and forth in agitation. “Small wonder Kreacher called you fractious.”
Harry crept through the waiting room of St. Mungo's, wary of the portrait of Dilys Derwent next to the front desk. She wasn't currently in her frame, but that didn't mean she wasn't listening.
Harry rushed after someone entering the double doors, dodging healers in lime green robes. There was a persistent, distant wailing that increased his anxiety. He took careful steps up the flight of stairs, slinking into the Creature-Induced Injuries corridor. The second door on the right had a placard that read "DANGEROUS" DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES. The card in the brass holder underneath told him the Healer-in-Charge was Hippocrates Smethwyck.
After some more searching, Harry found his office and knocked on the door.
"Come in," a voice called.
Harry made a quick check that no one was watching, then whipped off his cloak and hastily entered the office.
"You aren't one of my healers. Who are you?"
Harry turned around, and the man gasped.
"Shh!" Harry hissed. "Don't say anything!"
Harry didn't have time to look around the room. The man behind the desk was younger than he had expected, dark skinned with a broad congenial face currently pinched in concern.
"What can I do for you, Mr…"
Harry waved his hands. "I'm sorry for not making an appointment or something, but these things require some discretion."
The man, Healer Smethwyck, looked even more concerned. "What could you need from a healer?"
"You made an antivenin for Arthur Weasley," Harry said. "I need a sample of it, or the recipe."
The healer's face became grave, and a little frightened. "Are you saying—"
"Don’t draw any conclusions from this request," Harry said firmly. "I can wait here for whatever you're able to give me."
"It will only take a few minutes. We keep meticulous records," Smethwyck said, standing up to search. Harry waited anxiously, watching the door. In short time, Smethwyck presented him with a sample of the venom they had extracted, the antidote, and a copy of his work.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Harry shook his head. "Thank you. And I'm sorry, but I need to take this memory from you. It's for your own safety, and it's best if he never knows."
Smethwyck slowly sat down behind his desk again, watching Harry with keen eyes. "We're all counting on you," he said.
"I know," Harry said, raising his wand. "That doesn't make it easier. Obliviate."
Harry reread Elphias "Dogbreath" Doge's obituary for Dumbledore.
“I almost forgot his father had gone to Azkaban for attacking muggles,” Harry said.
“Dumbledore was well known for supporting muggles and muggleborns,” Theo said. They were in the library, where Theo was working on whatever plans he had for his family home. “That’s a major issue for those who support Voldemort. You saw the article about Charity Burbage.”
Burbage had been the Muggle Studies professor, and there had been a snippet about her having gone missing. They didn’t believe she was missing. She was most likely dead.
“Doge’s really doh-ging the truth here,” Harry said, chuckling at his own horrible play on words, “ignoring how Kendra and Ariana died. Those weren’t random tragedies.” Harry sighed. “Doge was another one who picked me up at Privet Drive before fifth year. For absolutely no reason but to maintain a pretense.”
“Your own pretense,” Theo pointed out. “You’re coming of age soon,” he continued. “Dumbledore said you had to stay with the Durslseys until then. Do you think he had a plan?”
“I told Dumbledore last year that I wasn’t living there and hadn’t been for a while,” Harry said. “And I told Hermione and Ron that as well. I don’t know if they spread it around or not.”
“Have you thought about what you want to do with the Dursleys?” Sirius asked, entering the library. He looked agitated.
“No,” Harry said. He wasn’t very concerned with what happened to the Dursleys, and didn’t know how well-received a warning would be. It wouldn’t take much effort to at least try, but did they deserve it after all they had done? “What happened with you?”
“I checked on the Grangers, like you asked,” Sirius said, pulling out a seat to fall into. “I walked in on your friend Hermione trying to modify their memories. I stopped her before she could do much damage.”
“She what?” Harry turned to Sirius, the Daily Prophet obituary dimpling in his hands. “Hermione’s never performed a memory charm in her life, and her first attempt is on her parents?”
“Whoever told her she was clever has been lying,” Sirius said. “I confronted her and made her explain what she was planning to do, to both me and her parents. She was going to give them completely new identities and ship them off to Australia. Not a bad idea, if you ignore that she was going to take away their memories of having a daughter. Without even asking them what they wanted.”
“What happened after that?” Theo asked.
“I had her sit down with them and discuss it. They agreed to have their memories modified, assume new identities, and move to Australia. Their reason for moving is their daughter has gone to uni. They argued over which uni for…a while. And I performed the charm for them, helped them pack away the evidence.”
“Do you know if the Order’s got anything planned for the Dursleys?” Harry asked.
“I’ve been told Kingsley and Arthur attempted to convince them to go into hiding,” Sirius said. “They think you might do a better job of it. I tried to explain…” Sirius shook his head. “They don’t know what those people are like.”
“Petunia probably called them freaks and slammed the door in their faces,” Harry said. “Do you think I should talk them into it?”
“It’s up to you, kid,” Sirius said. “I personally wouldn’t.”
Harry looked to Theo.
“You already know my response,” Theo said, turning back to his work.
Harry checked his watch, then stood up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Harry knocked on the door of Number 4 Privet Drive, then glanced up the street, wary of watchers. He saw the curtains swish in Mrs. Figg’s window. The street was dark, silent in the way monotonous suburbs always are.
“Who’s knocking at this hour?” he heard Vernon complain over the sound of the television. Dudley shouted at a video game in his room. Petunia’s heels clicked as she walked to answer the door.
“You again?”
“Me. Now let me in before you start making a scene, I need to have a chat with you and Vernon.”
With a sour look on her face, Petunia stood aside, closing the door quickly behind them. “Make it brief.”
Harry rolled his eyes and walked into the living room, where some program blared from a large screen. Petunia picked up the remote to mute it.
“Pet, what is—you!”
Petunia sat down next to Vernon, glaring at Harry. Vernon began spluttering.
“Shut up and listen,” Harry said. “Two wizards came here to warn you about a threat to your lives. That threat is me.”
Their eyes widened, and Vernon began to say, “Now see here—”
Harry waved his wand to silence him. “I can use magic against you. I don’t because I think it’s rude and you have no way of fighting back. But I can. Remember that.”
Harry might get a warning from the Ministry for that, but he had no intention of acknowledging it.
Petunia was beginning to look scared. “I—”
“I said shut up. I don’t want to hear anything either of you have to say. I think you are horrible people, and I think you know that too, however you’d like to pretend you aren’t. In fact, I hate you. All of you. I wouldn’t be very bothered if you were murdered by evil wizards in this very home.”
He looked at both of them, at Vernon turning redder and redder, Petunia paling. “That will happen, by the way, if you don’t leave. If you recall, there is a very powerful wizard who wants me dead, and he will let nothing stand in his way. That includes you. If, for some insane reason, he thinks you matter to me, he will find you, torture you, and kill you in a gruesome and very magical way.”
Harry checked his watch. “This is your only warning from me. I have no desire to come here again. If you’re stupid and get captured by evil witches and wizards, I won’t come rescue you. No one will. God only knows what will happen to you then.”
He looked at his aunt and uncle for hopefully the last time. “I’ll ask someone to come fetch you in about a week. I suggest you start packing.”
Harry was working in the cellars of Nott Manor, going over the runes they had laid down with Sirius, when a small glowing fox appeared before him.
"My father is here," it whispered in Theo's voice. "Stay down there, and be prepared."
Harry looked at Sirius, not having time to puzzle over Theo's patronus. Harry knew he was able to perform the charm, but no amount of convincing could get Theo to show him.
They retreated to the corners of the cellar, and waited.
"I've heard rumors, Theodore," a creaking voice said, growing louder as footsteps neared. "Whispers that you've been seen…intimately…with the Potter boy."
"A ruse, father. Potter was doing poorly in Arithmancy. I offered to tutor him, to get information for the Dark Lord."
"Did you?" Theo's father said. They were walking down the stairs now. "You've always been such a quiet child, Theodore. How did this change come about?"
"He attacked you, father. You were in Azkaban."
Thaddeus Nott grunted, accepting this. "What have you learned for our Lord?"
"His closest friends. The mudblood, Granger. The youngest Weasley son. I know where the mudblood's parents are. I've been preparing something for them."
"This is what you wish to show me?"
"Yes, father."
Harry saw the hunched old man come into sight. He smiled as he pointed his wand. "Stupefy."
Stunned, the old man missed the last step and went down hard. Theo used his shoe to kick him over.
"Another break out from Azkaban," Sirius said, looking down at him. "We should have expected it."
“What are we going to do with him?” Harry asked, wand still trained on the man he hated as much as his own family. More. “He can’t know what we’re doing here. We can’t put the manor under Fidelius now, it would be too suspicious if he forgot his own home. We don’t know who else may be coming.”
“No one,” Theo said. “Father doesn’t entertain guests.”
Nott Manor was, in word, utilitarian. From the outside it was a longhouse built of stone quarried from the isle’s bedrock. Inside was much larger, expanding to upper floors and basements, though a wide hall made up the ground floor. The land was unplottable, forgotten by the resident muggles. Not even the isle’s true size and shape were known to them, such a swathe had been magically erased from their knowledge.
“It’s not very accommodating,” Theo added. He levitated his father and carried him into a side room, which they tentatively called the interrogation room. Theo propped him in a simple wood chair, and with a flick of his wand chains wrapped around his limbs.
“What are you planning?” Harry asked, looking Theo’s face. It had gone disturbingly blank. Sirius stood back, watching with a hardened expression.
“You’re a better legilimens than me, Harry,” Theo said. “He spent a year in Azkaban, his mind should be weakened.”
“Theo?"
"Your idea about Weasley," Theo said. "A pureblood. A high ranking Death Eater."
"That was a joke!"
"Not anymore."
"This is a dangerous idea, Theo," Sirius said. "If it goes wrong, the least we'd have to do is abandon this place. We've talked about what could happen if too many Death Eaters go missing."
"We can alter his memory," Harry suggested. "Stage a Ministry raid, force him to another property."
"Or we can use him," Theo said, his mouth in a grim line. "We don't have Snape to report on their meetings anymore. He could tell us who we can't trust in the Ministry, about upcoming raids, Riddle's plans for you."
"We need to talk about this more," Sirius said. "Let's not rush into it."
"We don't know when the next meeting is," Theo said. "Riddle can summon him at any time."
"Shit," Harry said. "Shit. Okay, we need a story. He came home. He found you studying. He had a meal then retired."
Theo's brow furrowed. "It wouldn't happen like that. I haven't spoken to him in a year. I made no attempt. I left our family home immediately after he was arrested. I've been seen with you. There would be consequences for those things."
Harry looked at Thaddeus Nott again. It would have been better if the old man had died in the Department of Mysteries.
"You have to tell me," Harry said quietly. "If I'm planting false memories, I need details. Convincing details. For him." He felt sick.
Theo nodded stiffly, not looking at Harry. "I will show you. Please allow me some time alone with my father. There are matters I wish to discuss with him."
Harry sat across the street from Number 4 Privet Drive, hidden under his cloak. It was the Saturday before his seventeenth birthday, and the Dursleys were packing the car to leave.
Dedalus Diggle was looking like he’d stumbled his way out of the pages of a Dickens’ novel and into Carroll, terribly out of place in Little Whinging. Hestia Jones was not much older than Harry, and her robes could pass for a dress under the right lighting. The total darkness of night, specifically, but it was only yet dusk.
This odd group piled into Vernon’s roomy company sedan, Dudley squashing himself against the passenger door to put as much distance between him and the freakish old man wearing a jaunty top hat and a polka dot frock coat as possible. Vernon pulled out of the driveway, and he and Petunia looked resolutely ahead as they drove down the street and passed out of sight.
Harry stood to leave. He had a clear conscience, for what little that was worth. His mother wasn’t around to tell him how she felt about her sister and her nephew, but Dudley at least…he didn’t think Lily would want him to be hurt. Dudley could change, be a better person than his parents.
As he turned to apparate, Harry paused, looked up at a sound he had heard so many times before on the quidditch pitch.
A broom passed overhead, carrying a dark figure, flying fast in the direction the Dursleys had driven.
“Accio broom,” Harry breathed through clenched teeth. The figure’s body whipped forward, nearly flying off, as the broom was jerked backward towards Harry. They were searching their robes. “Expelliarmus!”
He caught the wand in his hand, stopped the broom before it crashed into him or the ground, and stunned the Death Eater before they could get their feet on the ground. They toppled sideways onto the street.
Harry walked forward, checking around for other Death Eaters. It was strange that this one was alone, without backup. Maybe they thought they were just trailing muggles.
He looked at the sky again, and annoyingly spotted an owl flying towards him. Mafalda Hopkirk of the Improper Use of Magic office was on the case, once again indifferent as to why someone was using magic around Harry Potter’s only known address.
Based on what they’d gleaned from Theo’s father, Pius Thicknesse, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had been placed under Imperius by Corban Yaxley. Harry had left the man petrified on top of the Astronomy Tower, another recent Azkaban escapee. Thicknesse would pass Harry's magic use warning along.
He begrudgingly took the parchment from the owl and watched it fly away, with the sinking feeling that someone would soon come here looking for him. Did Snape know he hadn’t lived at Privet Drive for years? Who had Hermione and Ron told? He didn’t know, and he needed to leave immediately.
Harry hastily grabbed the fallen Death Eater and their broom, apparating them away.
Not knowing where else to take the Death Eater, Harry had carried them down to the cellars of Nott Manor. They weren't quite ready to start detaining Death Eaters, but they had to start somewhere.
Harry did feel rather foolish when Sirius and Theo arrived.
"Let me get this straight," Sirius said, sternly looking down at Harry. "You went to see the Dursleys off. Alone."
Harry nodded.
"You captured a Death Eater. Alone."
"It was easy."
"That's not the point, Harry!"
"You should have taken me too," Theo said. "You promised."
"You were both busy! And I wasn't alone, there were Order members there. If there had been more Death Eaters I would have left straight away, I'm not an idiot. It was a good thing I was there."
"You should have still told us," Sirius said. “And you’ve received a notice from the Ministry. They might think you’re still at Privet Drive. That could be useful, now that the Ministry’s been infiltrated. At least for the next few days…”
Harry looked to the side. "I didn't…" Harry couldn't explain why he had gone there. He didn't fully know himself. He had just wanted to make sure. He didn't want to care at all. He hated it. He didn't know what he wanted to happen to the Dursleys. For them to disappear forever. To never have to think about them again. Retribution for what they had done to him. Nameless muggle casualties of Voldemort's, for his misfortune of being related to them.
Harry didn't want to deal with it.
"Well, what's done is done," Sirius sighed. "You weren't hurt, the car didn't get blown up or whatever it was they planned, we’ve caught a second Death Eater. It’s a net positive."
"Are we telling the Order?" Theo asked.
"I'm not sure how we'd explain what happened to this one," Sirius said, gesturing to the restrained Death Eater. "Say Harry killed them?"
"Let's find out who it is first," Harry said, using his wand to remove the mask.
All three stared at the face Harry had uncovered.
"I suppose they just took everyone with them in the break out," Sirius said thoughtfully.
"I'm checking his arm." Theo rolled up his sleeve, revealing a blank forearm.
"It must be Imperius," Harry said. "But honestly, Stan Shunpike?"
Harry was stuffed in a chair with Theo to one side and an increasingly uncomfortable Ginny to the other. Theo had draped his arm around Harry as soon as they sat down, and was all but dragging Harry into his lap. Sirius watched them from down the table with poorly hidden amusement.
“Ron tells me you aren’t planning on returning to school,” Mrs. Weasley said too casually, passing a tray of beans down the table.
“Me and Theo aren’t, yeah,” Harry said. “You’re awfully clingy tonight,” he whispered to Theo.
“Why is that?” Mrs. Weasley continued, not looking at him. Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. Harry noticed other Order members watching him. Bill, Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley. One-Eye was staring a hole through Theo, who was as aloof as he always was, only focused on his food and Harry.
“Got to finish off Voldemort, haven’t I?” Harry said lightly, eyeing an out-of-reach bottle of firewhiskey. “Can’t do that if I’ve only got Hogsmeade weekends free.”
“What’s he doing here?” One-Eye growled at them.
“Theo?”
“His father—”
“I almost killed his father,” Harry snapped. “In the Department of Mysteries, in case you’ve forgotten.Theo was there that night with me, fighting off Death Eaters. You were there too, Moody.”
“Oh, yes, I was there. I saw the kind of fighting that was done…”
“If anyone has a problem with me and Theo,” Harry said coldly, looking around, “I’m more than happy to burn bridges! I’ll set the bloody thing on fire myself!”
“Leave it, Moody,” Sirius said. “Harry’s known Theo for years, and so have I.”
“I don’t trust you either, Black!”
“Harry, dear!” Mrs. Weasley said, speaking loudly over them. “What are your plans for your birthday? I was thinking we could have a get together here.”
“Isn’t there a wedding the day after?” Theo murmured to him.
“Sirius heard about a rave we were planning on going to,” Harry lied.
“A rave?” Mr. Weasley asked. “Is that some sort of muggle event?”
“It’s a party, dad,” Bill explained. “They have electronic music.”
“Electronic music?”
“Candyflipping,” Harry said, shrugging. “People do drugs and dance around. We’ll loathe it.”
“A rave?” Hermione exclaimed. “You can’t possibly think that’s safe, Harry!”
“We’re going to pass out in an alley and get robbed,” Theo helpfully added.
“Or worse!”
“It’s like the restaurant at the end of the universe. One last hurrah before everything goes to shit.”
“This really sounds like a bad idea, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, frowning. “Muggle drugs? Don’t you remember what happened to Arthur with those…those stitches?”
“The Prodigy just dropped a new single,” Harry went on.
“Smack My Bitch Up,” Theo said, nodding.
“Language!”
“What’s the Prodigy? Like Hermione? A single?”
“No, Mr. Weasley, it's a musical group that just released a new song…”
“I prefer Firestarter,” Sirius shouted from his end of the table.
“Raves usually start late,” Lupin said, suppressing a smile. “You could still have a get together here.”
“I want to go to the rave!” Tonks said excitedly.
“We are not going to a rave!”
“Do you think coke is too expensive?” Sirius asked. “Would it be in poor taste?”
“What in Merlin’s name is coke?”
Harry had been invited over to celebrate Neville’s birthday at his house, which was a rather modest term for the large estate. They toured the greenhouses and avoided his grandmother. Luna was there too, and two girls from Hufflepuff, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott.
He gave Neville a weird cross pollinated cutting of what he hoped was a plant, something done by the glumbumbles. Harry had no idea what it was. He also gave him one of the paired mirrors he made, and Luna as well.
Theo had made himself such a nonentity in school that no one was sure how to treat him, but Luna was friendly and they followed her lead.
Most importantly, Neville was happy to spend the day with his friends.
“Harry, wake up.”
Harry yawned and was mildly surprised to find himself in Theo’s arms. He remembered staying up until midnight and...
“You were saying something. Gregorovitch.”
Harry rubbed his eyes and tried getting up, but he was trapped. “Voldemort thoughts. He’s looking for Gregorovitch. I guess Ollivander wasn’t enough for him.”
Harry’s eyes popped open. Voldemort must have learned about his wand, the twin cores. Harry still didn’t know what that meant. Or maybe Ollivander had told him about it when Voldemort first got his wand, that the phoenix—currently roosting with the other winged creatures in Grimmauld Place—had only given two feathers. What had that puffed up bird done? If he had given just one, or three…
Theo turned him over, giving him a small, private smile. “Happy birthday.”
“I can legally do magic now.”
“You’ll put Mafalda Hopkirk out of business.”
“So begins my rise to power,” Harry said, smiling back. “One Ministry paper pusher at a time.”
There was a knock at the door, and Harry buried himself in the blankets.
“Are you two modest?” Sirius asked.
“Far from it,” Theo murmured as Harry groaned in embarrassment.
“Kreacher’s made…well, it’s more of an event than a breakfast.”
“Just tell him we’re almost ready,” Harry pleaded.
“Harry has just announced his ascension to Dark Lordship,” Theo said instead.
“Sounds great,” Sirius said, walking away from the door. “I’ve been thinking about getting another tattoo.”
“You told me it was coming out this year,” Theo said as Harry stared at the Nintendo 64. Harry had totally forgotten about that, and smiled at it idiotically.
“You’ll have time to misuse another muggle artifact later,” Sirius said. “Kreacher’s already given you a watch, which is a traditional gift for a coming-of-age. And you’ve got Regulus’, which I would have chosen for you. So, here you go.”
Harry took the small box handed to him, opening it to reveal a flat object made of brass.
“Is this…” Harry held it closer. “An astrolabe?”
“A cursed astrolabe,” Sirius said. “It’s been in the family, oh, forever. I wouldn’t put it up to your eye, it’d probably pop it right out, or teleport you into the nearest star.”
“The sun?” Theo asked, looking over Harry’s shoulder. “This is very intricate.”
“You’ll have to work out what all it does for yourself,” Sirius said, smiling.
“This is amazing,” Harry said, afraid to touch the delicate mechanism. “Thank you.”
Theo cleared his throat and slid another small box to Harry. Glancing at him, opened it to reveal a pair of stud earrings set with a purplish red stone. Harry lifted one up, knowing it wasn’t just a pair of earrings but not knowing what Theo had changed about it.
“It’s alexandrite,” Theo said. “It’s green in daylight, and red at night, or indoors. It depends on the lighting.”
“I don’t have my ears pierced,” Harry said faintly, looking at the gemstones.
“Those are only found in one mine,” Sirius said, trailing off, looking at Theo, who shrugged. “Those must have cost…Anyway. Lily showed me how she did her ears. Kreacher! We need a needle and a potato!”
“What do we need the potato for?”
“Is it a muggle ritual?”
Sirius shook his head at them as they awaited the potato.
“Thank you,” Harry said. “What did you enchant them with?”
“They’re just earrings,” Theo said, leaning over to kiss him. “Sometimes things are merely what they appear to be.”
“Don’t look now,” Sirius whispered to Harry, “but it’s the fit Weasley.”
“Which Weasley?” Theo said, pulling Harry closer, glaring at everyone with red hair. “Why was I not informed of this?”
“I was fourteen,” Harry hissed. “Look at him!”
Charlie, the fit Weasley, had joined Harry’s birthday dinner at the Burrow. Fleur’s parents and little sister were there, along with all the Weasleys sans Percy, Hermione, the Tonkses, Lupin unfortunately, and Hagrid, who was talking to Charlie about Norberta.
“I think we’d better start without Arthur, “ Mrs. Weasley said. “He must have been held up—”
A weasel patronus appeared. Harry held onto Theo for dear life. A weasel...
“Minister for Magic coming with me,” Mr. Weasley’s patronus told them.
Lupin took Tonks and left, with Andromeda and Ted quickly following.
“What was that about?” Harry asked softly, as Mr. Weasley and Rufus Scrimgeour appeared at the gate. They marched towards the table, where everyone watched their approach in silence. Scrimgeour had been aged by his short time in office, more grizzled than ever.
“Sorry to intrude,” said Scrimgeour, as he limped to a halt before the table.
“Especially as I can see that I am gate crashing a party.” His eyes lingered for a moment on the giant snitch cake. Harry was a little confused by the choice, but at least it wasn’t a lightning bolt. Quidditch and his scar, the sum total people know about him.
“Many happy returns,” Scrimgeour said.
“Ditto.”
“I require a private word with you,” Scrimgeour went on. “Also with Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger.”
Harry’s confusion grew, but he got up and walked with them to the Burrow’s sitting room. Harry sat on the floor, letting the others arrange themselves.
Harry learned Dumbledore had left him something in his will, and that the Ministry had examined the items left to them, without their knowledge or consent. Rufus read the relevant parts of the will, questioning them on the objects they received.
Ron got a Deluminator, which Harry had seen One-Eye use to put out the streetlights on Privet Drive.
Hermione got a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, which Harry hid his reaction to.
He knew Dumbledore believed in the Deathly Hallows, and believed he had come into possession of them. Grindelwald had confirmed the wand Harry had stolen was the Elder Wand, and likely believed it had been buried with Dumbledore.
Harry was worried about what had happened to Ollivander, but wasn’t sure where to begin searching for him. If he was alive at all. He knew a house-elf could retrieve him, but they needed a location. And now Voldemort was on the hunt for another wandmaker.
“‘To Harry James Potter,’” Scrimgeour read, “‘I leave the snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.’”
Harry looked at the snitch he had caught in his mouth, which was in pretty good shape despite its ignoble fate.
“Why did Dumbledore leave you this snitch?”
“Fuck if I know,” Harry said. “Dumbledore was weird. Why is the Ministry being infiltrated by Death Eaters right under your nose?”
Scrimgeour glowered at him. “I’m asking the questions here. I noticed your cake is in the shape of a snitch.”
“No shit,” Harry said. “I was a seeker for six years. And I know snitches have flesh memories, so hand it over so we can see if anything happens.” Harry stuck his hand out, wiggling his fingers.
Scrimgeour handed the snitch over. Nothing happened; he hadn’t caught the snitch with his hands.
“Is that it?”
“Not quite,” Scrimgeour said, annoyed at the lack of revealed secrets. “Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter.”
“Could you please stop burying the lede? Dinner’s getting cold.”
“The sword of Godric Gryffindor.”
Harry laughed. “He can’t do that. The sword shows up when it wants to. If I need it, it will come to me. And before you ask, I have no idea why he would try to will that to me.”
Harry stood, sticking the weakly fluttering snitch in his pocket. “Now, go back to doing a bad job of running a country. I’m done here.”
“This is not a joke, Potter!” Scrimgeour snarled, standing up, pulling his wand. He shoved it into Harry’s chest. “Remember that I am not Dumbledore, who forgave your insolence and insubordination. It is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It’s time you learned some respect!”
“Expelliarmus.”
Harry looked up and saw Theo walking into the room, now holding Scrimgeour’s wand. “It’s pathetic how easily the current minister and former head auror was disarmed,” Theo said. “How dare you raise your wand to him? You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air.”
“What are you doing?” Harry said, worried the minister would try to arrest him.
“I was concerned,” Theo said, frowning at Scrimgeour. “And I come inside to find the Minister for Magic threatening Harry Potter. I wonder what the Daily Prophet will think of that? Shall I owl Rita Skeeter?”
More people came running in, Sirius followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Scrimgeour looked at his new audience and backed down. Theo carelessly tossed his wand to him, and Scrimgeour limped out of the house.
“What did he want?” Sirius asked, looking at Harry.
Harry pulled the snitch of his pocket. “Dumbledore willed us some mementos. Let’s go eat.”
Later, at home, Harry shoved the snitch into his mouth.
“What are you doing?” Sirius asked.
“It’s how he caught it,” Theo explained. “In his first quidditch match. It was quite memorable.”
Harry spat it out, and saw there were now words engraved.
I open at the close.
“The hell does that mean?”