Plans in Advance
Sirius passed his robes off to Kreacher, cracking his neck. They had finally managed to track down Dirk Cresswell. He’d escaped on his own en route to Azkaban, stunning the auror Dawlish with his own wand, then using Dawlish's own broom to flee. They’d found him holed up in an old factory near his hometown, injured and disoriented, but coaxed him into leaving for a safe house. Someone had Confunded Dawlish at some point, making Cresswell’s escape easier.
“Are Harry and Theo back?” Sirius asked Kreacher, who muttered unhappily at the state of the robes.
“Young Master and Master Theo are in the garden,” Kreacher said, looking suspiciously pleased with himself.
“The garden? In this weather? It’s sweltering outside,” Sirius said, walking towards the back door. He saw the two dark haired teenagers through the glass, heads tilted together, Harry wrapped around Theo like an octopus. They truly were disgusting.
“How did it go?” Sirius asked, stepping into the heat. It was a scorcher, he didn’t know how they could stand it.
“How did what go?” Harry asked, clearly distracted by his boyfriend. Theo too was paying attention to nothing else. The rest of the world was a trivial illusion to them.
“Your meeting? With Ron and Hermione?”
“Oh, that,” Harry said, finally looking over at Sirius. “You’re back!”
Sirius shook his head. “Ron and Hermione?”
“Never mind them,” Harry said, frowning. “They wanted to join the adventuring party because Dumbledore gave them some flash loot. They thought it meant we were going to defeat the Dark Lord together, skip off into the sunset and get our own Chocolate Frog cards.”
“You have been friends for a long time,” Sirius said. “You met them on the train.”
Sirius had met James on the train and they had become fast friends. Remus and Peter had come later that same day, when they all shared a dormitory together. His time at Hogwarts had been defined by those three. Until school ended, when Remus was sent to the werewolves, when Peter became more and more withdrawn, when Lily and James went into hiding…Sirius had thought they would always be friends, inseparable, no matter what. But the war intruded and he had learned better, in the most brutal ways possible.
“They helped you a lot in first and second year,” Sirius added. “And they still want to be friends now, it sounds like.”
“Harry doesn’t owe them anything,” Theo said, blunt as always. He had been smiling at Harry, which was an expression Theo did not make. It was an astonishing sight to behold.
“I haven’t really been friends with them since third year,” Harry said. “I’ve kept things from them, a lot of things. I think Hermione could come around, but Ron…you should have heard how he talked to Theo! And at the wedding Hermione apparated me away and left him behind! I don’t think I can forgive something like that,” Harry finished.
But he wasn’t finished.
“Why should it matter if they want to be involved in working against Riddle? There are other ways to do that. They can work with the Order. They don’t need me. And it’s not entirely my fault we grew apart. In third year there was the whole Crookshanks and Scabbers debacle. In fourth year there was the Tournament and they both abandoned me, Ron because he was jealous and Hermione because she felt bad for him, not the person who was entered into it! And fifth year was a nightmare, literal nightmares of Riddle trying to break into my head, not to mention Umbridge and them propping me up as some kind of general in Dumbledore’s Army. The Ministry, the Prophet, everyone else in school thinking I was mental…And how could I explain sixth year to them? Seeing all those memories of Riddle, knowing Dumbledore was dying, Horcruxes…”
Harry ran out of breath.
“There's too much they’ve missed out on, too much I chose not to tell them because I knew they’d run off and blab to Dumbledore or Mrs. Weasley or someone else who’d try to control my life, stick me back with the Dursleys. Keep me docile and pliant,” Harry sneered. “How would they react if they knew I’ve been round Nurmengard for tea and bikkies with a dark lord? Ron would explode, we’d be scraping him off the walls.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Sirius said.
“I’ve thought about it for years,” Harry said. “They exhaust me.”
“We left halfway through a sentence,” Theo said, eyes never leaving Harry. “He had a revelation.”
Harry smiled back, once again lost in his own little Theo-centric world.
Sirius narrowed his eyes at the two of them, then opened the door again, leaving them to it.
When this was over, he was booking a portkey for Romania.
Harry watched Neville's face in the mirror. His friend seemed tired, but otherwise alright.
"How are things at school?" Harry asked.
"As fine as they can be," Neville said. "Some of the Slytherins are acting like they own the place, especially Malfoy and his crew. Malfoy and Parkinson are Head Boy and Girl, they're close with the Carrows, the older ones, not the other pair. It's been nearly a century since the last Slytherin headmaster...Everyone's forced to take Muggle Studies, it's just them lecturing about how bad muggles and muggleborns are. They hate Filch because he's a squib, and he's meaner than ever."
"What's Snape up to?"
“No one knows," Neville said. "He's locked in the headmaster's office all the time."
"Strange," Harry said, not sure what to make of that. Snape was likely plotting with Dumbledore's portrait, but Phineas wasn't giving anything away.
"How's it out there?" Neville asked. "We only get the Prophet. All the mail is being monitored again."
"Good, considering," Harry said. "The Quibbler's started reporting on muggleborns and their families, things the Ministry's trying to cover up. Not much yet, Luna's dad still has his article in Ancient Runes and the stuff subscribers send in."
"What about you?" Neville asked. "Gran said there was a rumor that Dumbledore left you something to do."
Harry closed his eyes. "Yeah, I met with Hermione and Ron the other day. It's the sort of thing more people working on wouldn't help with, and more people knowing would blow it up. Theo and Sirius are helping me," he added. "It's hard to focus on what Dumbledore wanted when people are running for their lives. What's the point in saving the world if there's no one left in it?"
Neville chuckled awkwardly. "That makes sense. If there's anything we can do to help, don't hesitate."
"Just keep yourselves safe," Harry said. "You've got the Map, the Room of Requirement. If you see anyone lurking about the secret passages, Obliviate them. The house-elves will help you. The centaurs too, they don't go after students. See if you can learn to make portkeys for emergencies. Maybe to your gran's house."
Neville nodded seriously. "Got it."
"Keep me updated," Harry said. "I'll pass along any news from out here."
"Thanks, Harry," Neville said. "It's different without you here. Hermione and Ron too."
"In a good way?" Harry said drolly. "Oh, let Seamus know we've got Dean and his family safe. And the Creeveys."
"Will do."
Harry put away the mirror, thinking. Snape sounded like he was staying out of things. If the Carrows were removed, someone worse could take their places. Using the Imperius to make them less awful would have the same result.
"Is everything alright?"
Harry looked up and saw Sirius in the doorway.
"As well as we could hope," Harry said. "They aren't stringing firsties up."
He squeezed his eyes shut. They weren't making much progress on finding Hufflepuff's Cup. Predicting the location with arithmancy gave them nonsense answers. Tea leaf reading just showed Harry a blob. They were hesitant to start searching Death Eater homes, not knowing what defenses they might have, though they were closer to cracking the Dark Mark barrier. Using house-elves risked alerting other house-elves. Harry guessed it had taken Dumbledore all year to discover that cave. How many coastlines had he scoured?
They were likewise reluctant to start picking off Death Eaters. It was unlikely anyone but Riddle knew where the Cup was, and the Death Eaters closest to him were hard to find. Harry didn't think Lucius Malfoy would lower himself to respond to breaking the Taboo. Particularly not after Rowle and Dolohov had gone missing. Riddle was distracted looking for Gregorovitch's thief. Killing off his Death Eaters one by one would bring him back, make him angry, make him more erratic.
Then there was the ever present problem of Nagini. She could be anywhere.
"I think I'm going to tame a dementor," Harry announced.
"Like a hunting dog?" Sirius asked. "Put it on a lead?"
Harry nodded seriously. "Dementors are the only things we know of that can sense and locate souls. They've noticed the missing muggleborns."
The Daily Prophet was packed with warrants. Harry was disappointed his was a mere ten thousand galleons. He had more than that in his Potter trust vault.
"What about you?" Sirius asked. "Your scar reacts when Riddle is near."
"My scar reacts when he sneezes too hard," Harry muttered.
"He doesn't even have a nose, kid." Sirius walked into Harry’s room and sat down on his bed. “We know they're headquartered at Malfoy Manor. We can guess it’s the most protected location for him. We’ll have to eliminate the other ones we know about.”
“Dobby used to work for the Malfoys,” Harry said. “He'd be familiar with their manor.”
“Dobby is currently at Hogwarts.”
“Which is another place we need to check. I should have thought about that when we were still in school. What if it’s under his old bed in the dormitory? I don’t have any Slytherin friends to ask, except Theo and there is no chance we’re sending him back there.”
“You’re avoiding something,” Sirius said. “Places you don’t want to go back to.”
Harry looked to the side. “The idea that Riddle put a horcrux in the place of my parents death is pretty awful.”
“It is,” Sirius agreed. “It fits him perfectly.”
“This is utter nonsense,” Theo said, reading the Quibbler’s Elder Futhark article. “They could use it as a code, but Lovegood’s claiming that if I submerge this in a tincture of water and lemon it will reveal a spell to turn my hair into rye.”
“It’s not even harvest season,” Harry said, walking next to him. They were in Godric's Hollow, and the sun was setting. It wasn't Halloween—everyone agreed it would be a bad idea to return on the anniversary—but a few days before.
They visited the cemetery first, walking slowly through the headstones. There was the possibility his parents' bodies had been exhumed, a horcrux wedged in his mother's hands. Harry balked at digging them up, but would do it if they had to.
"I don't hear anything," Harry said, kneeling down. "Hi, mum and dad. I'm back with Theo, checking if anyone has desecrated your grave."
Theo took out a book, murmuring an incantation to himself. Harry stood up, weaving his wand above the sod.
"Their coffin hasn't been opened," Theo said, closing his book.
Harry furrowed his brow. "Good to know he hasn't used them for inferi. The spell isn't picking up any large amount of metal. Probably just their rings, fastenings."
"And you don't hear anything," Theo said. "Don't feel drawn to anything."
"No," Harry said, conjuring flowers for his parents. Lilies in deep purple.
"'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death,'" Theo read.
"I mislike that inscription," Harry said, glancing at the nearby church. "It's a quote from a muggle religion. Sirius doesn't know why it's here either."
"It could have been added after," Theo said. "Another crumb on the trail."
"Giving that book to Hermione was very suggestive," Harry agreed. He concentrated and transfigured the stone, smoothing it over, erasing the quote. "I'll think of something else to put there. Let's go to the house."
They walked up the quiet street just as mist began to fall.
"Dementors," Harry said, feeling the warmth leached from his body. "Use your patronus, mine might be known."
A small silver fox appeared to walk beside them, a brilliant light on the dark street. Both knew it could give them away, but it was their only protection against the dementors, and they had other ways of fighting off Death Eaters. They could run if they had to.
They passed by Bathilda Bagshot's home. No lights were on.
"Do you think she's okay?" Harry asked, voice hushed. "She might not even know what's been going on. Skeeter had to potion her to get her to talk."
"We can look in on her when you and Sirius are through," Theo replied. Sirius had gone to search the house first. He and Harry were the only two besides Pettigrew and Riddle himself who could see, much less enter, the Potter home.
They reached the gate. Harry turned to Theo, whose eyes were scanning the street. Harry reached up to kiss his jaw.
"I hope this is quick. If anything happens, we'll meet at home."
Theo nodded, the patronus fox curling at his feet. "I'll be waiting."
Harry closed the gate behind him, and walked to the front door. The front garden was shadowed, still wild with years of uncontrolled growth. Nothing moved. The only sound was a faint woof from the open door.
"Did you think you could smell it?" Harry asked as Sirius returned to being human.
"It couldn't hurt to try," Sirius said, rubbing his nose. "Are you ready?"
"No," Harry said. "But that doesn't matter."
"There aren't that many places to put a gold cup with a badger on it," Sirius said. "I've even checked the kitchen cupboards."
"You think he'd leave it in a cupboard?" Harry asked, looking around the living room. It looked the same as he had seen it four years ago. The same as sixteen years ago. There weren't any badger cups on display.
"This room is significant since dad died here," Harry said. "The room upstairs only had the crib."
Sirius was breathing steadily beside him. Harry knew his memories of the night were stronger, calcified by over a decade in Azkaban.
"Do you feel anything?" Sirius asked in a carefully level voice.
Harry closed his eyes. The locket, the diadem, had whispered to him. And there was a certain feeling to cursed objects, a sense he developed at Grimmauld Place. Something just a little off, a little too innocuous. Or it could be something that drew the eye, that asked to be picked up and used.
"No," Harry said finally. The entire house felt off to him. Maybe it was because his parents had died here, where he was first trapped by prophecy. It could be the remnants of the magic that had been cast, like the scar he bore. Traces of the magic used.
"Let's walk through," Sirius said.
They did. The kitchen, the living room, a bathroom and a study. Closets, the bedrooms upstairs. Harry trailed behind Sirius, looking curiously around. It felt wrong to him that the house was so unfamiliar. He should have grown up here. His parents should have been alive.
Sirius led them back to the front door. "Should we check the garden?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't think it would be something he buried. It would be a display. It's not just a means to an end. He chose it for status."
"Let's go then," Sirius said, walking to the gate. "It's getting late."
"I wanted to check on Professor Bagshot," Harry said.
Sirius watched him for a moment. "You and Theo met her before?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "She might not remember."
"Very well. I'll keep a lookout for you two."
Theo was still standing sentinel next to the gate, wand out. He turned to look at them, eyes immediately finding Harry.
"Anything?"
"No," Harry said, pushing himself under Theo's arm. "Anything out here?"
"It's quiet," Theo said.
The mist had thickened into an oppressive sheet, trapping the glow of Theo's patronus.
Harry checked his watch. "It's not that late. Let's see if she's in."
They crossed the street, Sirius staying well back so as not to be grouped up.
Harry and Theo walked up the path to Bagshot's door. Harry was surprised to see the elderly woman peeking out of the curtains, holding a candlestick.
"She must have heard the gate," Harry said as they reached the door. He knocked, and they waited.
"She may be too old to do magic anymore," Theo said, looking at the window with consternation. "That makes her more vulnerable."
"Easy for someone like Skeeter to take advantage of," Harry said. "I should have listened to Sirius when he suggested a hostile takeover of the Prophet."
"Was he going to storm their office?" Theo asked.
“We were,” Harry said, grinning up at him. “Shh, I think I hear something.”
Soft, shuffling steps could be heard from within. The lock clicked, and the door opened to reveal Bagshot’s aged face. Her white hair was thin, limp and scraggly as if it hadn’t been washed in days. Her skin was slack and waxy in the candlelight. The dressing gown she wore was rumpled and stained in places.
Harry knew some older people required caregivers, and it looked like Professor Bagshot had reached that stage in her life. He didn’t know if she had any living relatives other than Grindelwald to look after her. He planned on talking to the Order to find someone. Maybe someone could lend a house-elf, or find a private healer. They had stopped by Madam Gosling’s cottage, the Potter’s healer, but her house had been abandoned.
“Good evening, Professor Bagshot,” Harry said, smiling at her. “I’m Harry Potter. I’m sorry for stopping by so late, we just wanted to see how you were doing.”
She looked at him with rheumy eyes, bluish and opaque with developing cataracts, but after a moment nodded and let them inside. Harry heard Theo shut the door behind them.
“Have you been keeping up with the news?” he asked, looking around her home. It was messier than he remembered, and he lit his wand to get a better look. Bagshot’s lone candle wasn’t doing much to illuminate things. It smelled bad too, like a hoarder’s house or the alley behind a restaurant. It was beginning to give Harry a headache, something that had began with the stress of searching his parents’ graves for tampering. Harry made a note to check on Alice and Frank Longbottom. Someone might target them in St. Mungo’s to finish the job, unless Bellatrix found their current state amusing.
“There’s been an upheaval at the Ministry,” Harry said, following her into the sitting room. “We should clean up a bit,” he whispered to Theo. Theo nodded in acknowledgement, then began vanishing bits of scattered trash and dust. Harry discreetly levitated used plates and cups into a pile to be washed.
“Professor, they’re rounding up muggleborns. I know you’re probably a pureblood, or a halfblood. Many of the older generation are. We can get someone to watch out for you, if you’d like?”
Harry watched Bagshot totter around, trying to light candles by hand. Harry frowned sadly, then lit them with a wave of his wand. “I’ve taken care of it, Professor.” He saw the fire was out too, so he lit that as well. Bagshot flinched. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s getting cold, isn’t it?”
Bagshot nodded again, standing in the middle of the room.
“Would you like to sit down?” Harry asked. Theo cleared off the chairs, then looked around the room. “I could make tea for us.”
Bagshot kept staring at him, then shuffled a few steps forward. She jerked her head, then looked back into the hall.
“You want us to leave?” he asked.
She jerked her head again, then pointed at him, at herself, then to the ceiling.
“You want me to go upstairs with you?”
Harry glanced at Theo, who had an unreadable expression.
“I’ll wait down here,” Theo said, watching Bagshot closely.
Harry had no idea what she wanted him to see upstairs. Maybe it was some other clue left behind by Dumbledore. He knew Harry had spoken to Bagshot before, and that Hermione religiously quoted Hogwarts: A History. Following the trail of Deathly Hallows would have led them to Godric’s Hollow. Even with a failing mind, Dumbledore had likely been a skilled enough legilimens to plant something for her to act on.
“Alright, let’s go,” Harry said, stepping aside for her to lead the way. Bagshot shuffled around him and towards the door.
Their progress up the stairs was arduous, and Bagshot wheezed wetly with each step. Harry considered levitating her, but didn’t want to scare her with sudden magic, particularly if she couldn’t use it anymore. Her lungs sounded awful, as if she had pneumonia, and he felt bad that she was up and walking around instead of resting in bed.
“I think we should take you to St. Mungo’s,” he said when they reached the landing. “Have you seen a healer lately?”
Bagshot didn’t reply, leading him into a bedroom with a low ceiling. He saw a chamberpot sticking out from under the bed. She wouldn’t have been able to vanish its contents. She might have been too old to even use it anymore. The smell was worse than in the sitting room.
Harry looked up and was surprised to see her standing right next to him. He hadn’t heard her move.
“What is it?” he asked.
“You are Potter?” she whispered.
“I am,” he said, smiling slightly. “I’m glad you can remember me.”
She nodded slowly. His headache was growing worse in this confined space. He pushed his reaction to the state of Bagshot’s home and person down.
Bagshot closed her eyes, and he felt his scar twinge. Annoyed, he ignored it. He didn’t care what Riddle was up to at the moment. But then he felt a leap of joy, and he heard his voice. Hold him!
It was too much of a coincidence.
Harry took a step back, glad he hadn’t gone far into the room, and cast a silent dormio.
The spell did nothing. Bagshot shuddered, then collapsed into a pile of clothes, a snake lunging out from where her neck had been.
Harry shielded immediately, and the snake, Nagini, bounced off. “It’s Nagini!” he shouted, hoping he wasn’t speaking parseltongue. He never could tell the difference. She came at him again, and again. He heard Theo thudding up the stairs. Nagini coiled back to strike.
“Incarcerous,” he said, putting more force into the spoken spell. His scar throbbed vindictively. Rope wrapped around her, binding her coils, but snakes were hard to tie up. “Duro.” The rope turned to stone, weighing her down.
Nagini lunged again. Harry watched in horror as the stone cracked around her. Theo knocked him out of the way, and Nagini’s fangs sank into his arm.
“No!”
Harry could feel it, the elation of Nagini’s successful bite, the rush of human blood, the promise of a fresh meal. He hated it, more than anything he had ever hated. She had hurt Theo. He wanted Nagini dead.
Harry aimed his wand. He had never imagined he would use this curse.
“Avada Kedavra!”
The harsh green light pierced through Nagini, splashing violently against her scales, staining the walls with its deadly hue.
Nagini collapsed.
Theo was bleeding out next to him.
“No!” Harry screamed, falling down beside Theo. “Fuck, I didn’t bring any. Fuck! Ferula!”
Bandages wrapped tightly around Theo's arm. Harry grabbed him, closed his eyes, and apparated them home.
“Kreacher!”
“Young Master, what—”
“I need the antivenin, now! Winky! Get Sirius, he’s in Godric’s Hollow, Bathilda Bagshot’s home. He should be in the street outside! ”
Theo was shaking, his eyes blown open and unfocused. The bleeding wouldn’t stop. Kreacher shoved a vial at Harry. He nearly broke it getting the cork out. He propped Theo up and tipped the vial into his mouth.
“You have to drink this,” Harry said. “Please,” he begged, massaging his throat. “God, I hope he didn’t make the venom worse.”
His mind reeled with what few healing spells he knew. He should have learned more. Why had he been so stupid? Of course Theo could get hurt. Why wasn't he prepared?
“Vulnera Sanentur,” he whispered, hoping it would work. “I need blood replenisher too! I don’t care if you have to steal it from somewhere!”
Kreacher vanished. Harry heard running downstairs.
“Harry? Theo? What happened?”
“It was fucking Nagini!” Harry shouted, eyes watering. He fumbled around for another vial of antivenin. He didn’t know how much Theo would need. He’d use it all for him, it didn’t matter.
“Vulnera Sanentur, please, Theo, please, I can’t do this without you…”
Sirius slammed into the room. “Nagini?”
“She was in Professor Bagshot’s body. She called for Riddle, I heard…I felt it.”
Theo’s eyes were closed now, his skin so pale it was almost translucent. “He’s lost a lot of blood. Vulnera Sanentur…”
“What spell is that?”
“Snape’s,” Harry said. “It’s the counter to Sectumsempra. The bite marks are deep.”
Nagini had nearly bitten right through his arm, but the blood had finally stopped seeping out of the bandages he had conjured. Harry slapped blindly around for another vial of antivenin. Sirius found it and handed it to him.
“Isn’t it dangerous in large quantities? How many doses have you given him?”
“Two,” Harry said hoarsely, laying Theo down, not wanting to let him go. “I fucking hate him,” he snarled. “I killed that bloody snake. I hope he felt that!”
Kreacher landed on the bed, pushing vials at Harry. “Blood replenisher for Master Theo.”
Harry reached up with a shaking hand.
“Kreacher will do it,” the house-elf said. Harry nodded mutely, eyes blurry with falling tears. He gripped Theo’s robes in his hands and buried his face, sobs wracking his body.
“Why did you push me out of the way?” Harry said, voice muffled and strained with anguish. “I could have taken her!”
A hand landed softly on his head, brushing his wild hair down. “She was going for your throat,” Theo rasped.
“Theo!”
“Harry, give him some space,” Sirius said gently.
“I don’t want space,” Harry said, turning on him. “We don’t need space!”
“There’s no air in space,” Theo said quietly, laughing a little, coughing. “I can’t breathe without him...”
“I can’t stand you two sometimes,” Sirius said. “We should take him to St. Mungo's."
"Riddle told Nagini to hold me," Harry said coldly. "He was coming for me. He'll find the blood. Shit, his blood is on the floor! We have to—"
Harry collapsed, scar ripping open, a conflagration erupting with agony.
Voldemort was screaming in rage over Nagini's corpse, fury painfully tearing its way through Harry's mind. He needed to shut him out, but he was slipping into a memory of that night, almost sixteen years ago.
Harry could hear people shouting around him, but he saw what Voldemort had seen, felt what he had felt. Gliding silently down the street, fingering his wand as two children dressed as pumpkins scampered away, frightened of the strange man who smiled triumphantly. He watched his father conjure clouds of colorful smoke for a baby in a blue onesie. His mother, her hair a curtain of dark red as she entered the room. Being placed in her arms. The wand tossed carelessly onto the couch. The door bursting open.
“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off!”
He wasn't even holding his wand. James died with a careless flick of Voldemort's wrist.
His mother was screaming.
"No! I've seen this before!"
Harry gripped his head. He wasn't going to feel how it was to kill his own mother. Flames of rage roared in his mind. It was too much. Everything was too much. He would burn it down until only ash remained
Harry woke in darkness.
He could feel the earth pressing down on him.
"Lumos," he said through a raw throat. A cold blue light revealed his surroundings. He was in a plain room, lined with dead stone, a place far beneath Grimmauld Place.
"Young Master is awake."
Harry struggled to sit up, surprised to find he was naked. He squinted, unable to see much without his glasses.
"Kreacher? What's going on? Where's Theo? Sirius?"
"Kreacher took Master Sirius and Master Theo to Missy Andromeda."
Harry tried to get up again, but fell onto his side. "What happened?"
"Young Master was burning," Kreacher said. "Master carried him to the ritual room and made runes around him. Master was injured."
"I burned Sirius?" Harry asked. He decided to keep lying down for the time being. "I can't see if you're nodding, Kreacher."
"Master was burned, but Missy Andromeda says she can heal him."
"Oh, thank fuck," Harry said. He tried to arrange himself more comfortably and sort of flopped pathetically around.
"Theo bled at Bagshot's house," he said. "We don't want Riddle to get any of his blood. He might have been too angry to think about it."
"Winky waited until the Dark Lord took his snake away and cleaned up all the evidence."
"Good work…Professor Bagshot is probably dead," Harry said dully. "We have to tell someone. She should have a funeral."
"Missy Andromeda promised to take care of it."
"That's good…"
The next time Harry woke he was in his own bed. He looked up at the ceiling. There was a large section that looked slightly off. A different shade of blurry.
"Young Master is awake again."
Harry shut his eyes. "How is everyone?"
"Master is healed. Master Theo is in his room. Missy Andromeda says he will take several weeks to recover, and that young Master did good."
"I killed Nagini," Harry said, expressionless. "I killed that bloody snake. I can feel his anger pressing against my mind."
"Young Master must occlude quietly," Kreacher said. "No more fire."
"No," Harry agreed. "It's still my first instinct. It's hard to think when a dark lord is trying to tear your mind apart."
"Kreacher understands. Kreacher remembers the locket."
"Thank you."
Harry let his mind slip into emptiness. It was weird not waking up next to Theo. He had gotten used to it over summer. If they had gone back to Hogwarts he'd be sneaking Theo into his dormitory.
"I used the same curse that killed my parents," Harry admitted. "Did I melt my glasses?"
Kreacher handed him a pair, square framed. He had forgotten about those. "Young Master killed the snake efficiently."
"I did."
"Young Master saved Master Theo's life."
Harry rolled over to face Kreacher. "We saved each other. He pushed me out of the way. Phineas will have to approve of him now."
Kreacher nodded. "Master is in the library when you're ready."
"The library?" Harry sat up, noting he was now clothed in pajamas. Slightly embarrassed, he slid off the bed and to his feet, wobbling for a moment. "I'll check on Theo first."
Harry had rarely spent time in Theo’s room. He opened the door slowly, and stepped into Theo’s most quiet thoughts.
Harry knew what he would see. Stacks of books, candles, knives, chalk, curled parchment with sketches of runes, vials of blood, a poster they bought from a trip to a record store. They’d laughed at the idea of Norwegian black metal and ended up actually liking it, entranced by the bloody and brief saga of musicians burning down churches and killing each other. A record store called Helvete, a group of misanthropes, bands named Mayhem, Arcturus, Thou Shalt Suffer.
The walls were deep green, the ceiling charmed to show an eternal night sky. It felt like standing in the heart of a forest. Theo was asleep, curled onto his side, the dark strands of his hair sticking up at odd angles. Harry smiled at this rare sight, moving closer, holding his breath to hear if Theo still breathed. He saw the new bandages around his arm. It made his heart throb with anxiety.
There was a framed picture on Theo’s side table, which Theo had fallen asleep facing. Harry carefully stepped closer to see what it was. He blushed, recognizing himself. It was a picture of him sitting near the Black Lake, knees pulled to his chest, staring across the water. It must have been late fall, in fifth year. He wondered who had taken the picture, and how Theo had gotten hold of it. Colin, most likely.
Harry backed out of the room, not wanting to disturb Theo. He just needed to see him.
He walked down the hall to the library, through shelves to find where Sirius had hidden.
"Harry," he said, looking up from what he had been writing.
Sirius didn't look like he had been recently burned. He still had hair and skin, at least.
"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I didn't know what I was doing. I thought it was just in my head."
"I know," Sirius said, smiling slightly. "I don't blame you. You scared the hell out of us, though. I've never seen someone spontaneously combust, except Fawkes. You've always had a habit of conjuring fire when upset, I'm not surprised it got out of hand given the situation."
"Were you badly hurt?" Harry asked, sitting down across from him.
"Not badly," Sirius said. "And only because I was right next to you. Kreacher and I managed to get you into a safe room to…burn yourself out, I suppose. Which brings me to why I wanted to speak with you."
Sirius pushed a book towards Harry. "I know you've been practicing fire conjuration and manipulation for years."
Harry picked up the book. "Not that I use it much. I lit candles for Nagini. How many days was I out?"
"Three," Sirius said. "One-Eye went to Bagshot's house and found her body stuffed in a closet. It didn't look like she had been there long."
"You're calling him that too?"
"It's catchy," Sirius said, grinning. "He thinks he's the de facto leader of the Order. Him and Kingsley."
"I'd give him his eye back if it weren't so creepy," Harry said. "They just let him walk around seeing through clothes. In a school. With children. And it wasn't even him!"
"Who knows where he even got the thing. So. Fire. You know some spells are influenced by emotions. Controlled by them."
"Fiendfyre," Harry said. "Protego diabolica. Spells that can turn back on the caster."
"Most people are too afraid to use them," Sirius said.
"I've thought about using it," Harry said. "On the snake. I wanted to capture her."
"Why?" Sirius asked incredulously.
"To interrogate her."
"You wanted to interrogate a snake?"
"She wasn't a normal snake," Harry said defensively. "She was the closest person, closest living thing, to Riddle. She might have overheard something about the Cup. That's why I tried tying her up at first. I was surprised, you know, that an acclaimed historian turned into a massive magical snake." Harry's expression grew dark. "Then she hurt Theo. I need to charm all my pockets so I can carry potions with me."
"We can work on that later, I'm sure Kreacher would be happy to help. In fact, we all should be doing that. Who knows when you'll have to run."
"I've seen fire transfiguration," Harry said. "In the Atrium. Dumbledore had this whip made of fire that Riddle turned into a snake. It could work the other way."
"Snakes into fire? There are some advanced transfiguration books around here. In the meantime, read that," he said, nodding to the book Harry held. "It has the incantations and counters for a few difficult to control spells. The biggest risk to the caster is losing focus."
"Can you cast it?" Harry asked. "Fiendfyre."
"I can," Sirius said. "I've done it once, and like most people it turned on me. It's odd to say this about a spell, but it was almost as if it were judging me. Your dad helped me get it under control."
Harry smiled faintly, then opened the book.
A plague of mysterious rashes has swept through the Ministry in early November. Harry didn’t know how Fred and George had done it, which he could say for most of the pranks they pulled. Harry suspected something in the water the employees used to flush themselves to work, via the underground public toilets. Whatever spell that had been keeping people dry on their way down had failed. Theories ranged from muggle disease, one of the many wanted muggleborns, the remnants of the Order of the Phoenix, or Undesirable Number One Harry Potter.
Theo was still recovering and would be for a while. The venom was necrotic, and had been slowly eating away at his organs. Harry couldn't be grateful that Riddle preferred to draw out his victims' suffering, so he simply hated him more.
When Harry wasn’t trying to master Fiendfyre—which he increasingly suspected was a fool’s errand—brewing, and thinking about where the Cup was, he was sitting with Theo in his room.
“Sirius said we might want to utilize the Order to explore Riddle Manor,” Harry said. “I haven’t thought of a reason…how would we explain why we wanted to go there?”
“Say you had a vision,” Theo said, turning a page.
“That only holds water if we find something. If we find the Hufflepuff’s Cup, their next question would be why I’d just melted it and why there were screaming black clouds.”
Harry was precariously balanced on two legs of his chair. It was surprisingly helpful to his concentration.
“So we go alone,” Theo said, turning another page. “We’ve already decided to keep the horcrux search and destruction between us. Riddle can’t know you killed his snake because she was a horcrux—”
“We don’t know for certain she was.”
Theo quietly watched him.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Harry said, letting his chair fall forward.
“He can’t know she was killed because of it. She was attacking, and you defended youself. That’s the most logical conclusion to reach.”
“Occam’s razor,” Harry said. “He must have expected me to go there at some point. Why though? A trap? He can’t have known I’ve been to Godric’s Hollow in recent years.”
“If he thought you had never been, maybe he was hopeful you’d visit while out of school.”
“I think most people in my position would have left the country,” Harry said.
Theo patted his bed, and Harry happily got up to join him.
“You have a reputation, earned or not, of fighting dark wizards,” Theo said. “If only by virtue of being associated with Dumbledore. And we know he believes in the prophecy. That you’ve been trained by Dumbledore.”
“The lack of training."
"More proof he expected you to die." Theo took his hand.
Harry gripped Theo's blanket with his free hand. "Let's talk about something else. I've always wanted to know why you talked to me that day. Why you told me they were thestrals."
"I was fascinated by you."
Harry turned to Theo, but he was staring off into space. "Why?"
"Not because of the Boy-Who-Lived thing. Anyone who grew up in our world would know about that. Your name, what you looked like, your birthday. We thought you were being raised in secret, getting special training. Rich, spoiled, loved."
"And I was none of those things."
"I know," Theo said. "I could tell, from the beginning. From your old shoes, your broken glasses. Everything came as a surprise to you. You always seemed out of place to me, those first two years. You never quite fit." Theo glanced at him. "I felt the same. I didn't have any friends. True, I didn't want any, but it was…uncomfortable. Their expectations. To agree with their opinions, with whatever Malfoy's father told him to think. To support Riddle's agenda, not that he ever had much of one. It was simple to keep quiet. You never had that option."
"Being quiet and pretending I didn't exist never worked for me," Harry said. "Not at the Dursleys."
"When I saw you looking at the thestrals, which most people that age can't see, it made you more interesting to me. You looked so surprised by them. I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to learn why. So I did. There was also the rumor you had disappeared over the summer."
"I always knew where I was," Harry muttered.
"You kept being interesting," Theo said. "It's a bad habit of yours." He reached up to touch Harry's cheek. "I also thought you were cute, learning the Patronus Charm at thirteen."
"I knew it! You only want me for my magic."
Theo smiled and pulled him into a kiss.
"I'm sure we can find other things to recommend you."
"They call themselves Snatchers," Sirius said.
Harry was disappointed. He didn't recognize the woman they had captured. She looked like a poor witch living in Knockturn Alley. Rounding up muggleborns was probably the best paying job she could get. She might even be a muggleborn herself.
The idea to trap Death Eaters by violating the Taboo had fallen through. Harry had suspected, and now confirmed, that no actual marked Death Eaters would be given such a lowly task. Rowle and Dolohov had been a fluke.
"What should we do with her?" Harry asked. "We could continue dosing people with the Draught of Living Death and keep them sleeping until this is all over."
"If we let them go, they'll go right back to Snatching," Sirius said. "Even if we Obliviate her, she could be rehired."
"So we remove their pieces from the board," Theo said. "Keep them asleep until we've won back the Ministry."
"Or put them in Azkaban," Harry said. "For every muggleborn Fawkes gets, we put a Snatcher in. The dementors won't know the difference. If Fawkes is willing. He may not be, he operates under different values."
"Draught of Living Death and Azkaban," Theo suggested. "That way they don't suffer from the dementors. They'll sleep through it. And it solves our storage problem."
"Storage problem," Sirius repeated. He sighed. "If Fawkes won't do it, Kingsley can."
"Or Dawlish," Harry said. "Someone's already Confunded him, he'll be susceptible to Imperius."
They left the room, leaving the poor woman asleep.
"I'll make arrangements for moving Snatchers as replacements for Azkaban detainees," Sirius said. "Since this didn't work, what's your next move, Harry?"
Harry looked at the ground. It had been only two years since he'd been taken to that cemetery. He touched the raised scar on his arm. It was time to go back.
"Little Hangleton."