When Patterns Are Broken

The door slammed open. 

“A note!” Sirius shouted. “You tell me you’re breaking into Malfoy Manor with a note?”

Harry hid under his blankets. “We sent Dobby. It didn’t even take a minute.”

“Outrageous,” Sirius said. “I even got two boars this year. I should just release both of them!”

“Boars?”

“It’s Yule, Harry,” Theo said, voice muffled as he was being smothered. 

“Luna and her dad are at Nott Manor,” Harry said to Sirius. “She was kidnapped, I couldn’t just leave her there!”

But Sirius had stormed off again. Harry peeked out of his blankets and saw Kreacher glaring at him from the door, before he too left in a huff.

Harry pressed his face against Theo’s chest. “I don’t want to get up. I want to go into hibernation.”

Theo patted him consolingly. “We’ve stolen something from him. Lovegood. Ollivander. Riddle won’t be happy about that. And they’ve been searching for you for months. Undesirable Number One.”

Harry’s picture was in the Daily Prophet every day now. Hermione and Ron were also two the Ministry wanted most. Harry didn’t know where they were, he hadn’t heard from either in what must have been months. 

Harry knew he had to end it. Kill Voldemort. Find the Cup, destroy it, then somehow find the man, somehow beat him in a duel. It seemed as impossible at seventeen as it did at fifteen. 

Harry held Theo tighter. 

“What’s wrong?” Theo asked. 

“I don’t want to think about it today,” Harry said. “Let’s go sacrifice some animals and revel in their blood.”

He could feel the rumble of Theo’s amusement. Harry felt lighter, grateful he could at least have this. 

Harry watched as snow drifted down, leaving a light blanket over the already heavy layer on the ground. It was cold and silent, save for the chaos erupting from the house behind him.

The erumpent horn had been safely relocated to an outbuilding. Xenophilius insisted it was the horn of a crumple-horned snorkack, a Christmas surprise for Luna. The surprise, Harry imagined, would be if Luna accidentally touched it and got blown up. 

At Harry’s suggestion they celebrated Yule at Nott Manor, not wanting to leave Luna and Xenophilius alone in an unfamiliar place after the night they’d had. The boars had been relocated to a makeshift paddock on the grounds. Sirius had amazingly got ribbons around both of them, two furious, bristly gifts. Harry had seen Kreacher sharpening his blades with a fierce grin on his face. Dobby had managed to get Luna’s trunk from the Hogwarts Express, having been abandoned in the compartment she had been taken from.

An arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Are you ready?” Theo asked. “The Lovegoods want to join us.”

Harry turned to see Luna and Xenophiliius dressed in all yellow. “I thought yellow was a wedding color?”

“Yule marks the return of the sun,” Xenophilius declared. “The Oak King defeating the Holly King!”

“I think it’s the Yew King in my case,” Harry murmured. Louder, he said, “So yellow for the sun?”

“I told daddy you don’t celebrate Christmas,” Luna chirped. “He likes all sorts of holidays!”

“I was never allowed to celebrate Christmas growing up,” Harry said. “When I learned that the winter solstice had some magical significance, I thought I could try a new tradition.”

“An old one,” Theo said. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“It’s a good excuse to give each other presents,” Harry said. 

Theo kissed his forehead. “To make you happy.”

Harry looked at the two snuffling boars, the ridiculous bows Sirius had tied onto them, and smiled. 

After the boars had been dragged off to be broken down, there was the presentation of the erumpent horn to Luna. Harry knew she must have recognized it for what it was, but she agreed it was the horn of the shy and highly magical crumple-horned snorkack and accepted the gift enthusiastically. They did, however, leave it safely in the outbuilding. 

Hedwig flew over the grounds. She was a snowy owl, it was snowing, and the grounds of Nott Manor had plenty of small rodents for her to catch. Ranog the gyrfalcon joined her, crying in delight. Buckbeak was out too, running across the snowy fields. Someone had put a scarf around him. After a few chunks of steaming boar meat, Buckbeak was talked into giving hippogriff rides through the snow. Even Xenophilius took a turn, regaling them with deeds of heroic hippogriffs.

At dinner, Kreacher and Dobby got into a tussle over who was to serve Harry, which was settled by them carrying the dishes together. Harry endured this over-the-top fawning. It was a holiday, after all.

Christmas and Boxing Day brought news of attacks on muggles. Deaths blamed on faulty gas lines, more giant attacks covered up as natural disasters. Mysterious disappearances of muggles abroad, in Germany, Austria, Belgium, entire families killed in their homes. A trail of seemingly unconnected deaths, but Harry knew Riddle was searching for the blond thief.

Xenophilius was an expert at sifting through muggle newspapers and spotting instances of Ministry cover-ups. It’s what he had been doing for months, only planning to stop after Luna had been taken. 

“My mum had a cottage she got from my grandparents,” Luna said when asked where they wanted to go. “Daddy can run the Quibbler out of it. It’s in Wales.”

Lupin went with them to help add protection spells around their home, looking as morose as ever. They’d learned Fenrir Greyback was hunting muggleborns down, now that so many had gone on the run or had been taken right from under the Ministry’s nose. More often than not their hunts turned on random muggles, a string of brutal murders. Magical deaths were few, but the muggles were piling up. 

After New Years’ another plague struck the Ministry. In one of her mirror calls, Luna theorized it was blibbering humdingers. They were known to cause hysteria in those whose ears they blibbered into. Harry knew it had to be Fred and George, hoping to cause so much chaos the Ministry couldn’t do anything at all. No one keeping track of children triggering the Trace. No one sending Snatchers out to anyone who broke the Taboo. 

Dobby told them there had been consequences for Luna and Ollivander’s escape. Bellatrix had blamed it on the dungeon being left unlocked, and punished Wormtail for his failure. No one had called Riddle back, too afraid of what he might do to them. Who cared about a strange little girl and a half-dead wandmaker? It was Potter he wanted. 

Andromeda had done the best she could with Ollivander. People still came to her home to search it for her muggleborn husband Ted, though Ted had long since left the country. If they found Ollivander during one of their searches, it would not bode well for Andromeda and Tonks. Tonks had to be kept safe above all. So Ollivander was sent to one of the Weasleys, Bill and Fleur at Shell Cottage. 

Harry had a question for the wandmaker, but was told Ollivander was in no state to be questioned. So he waited. 

“It’s called Potterwatch,” Sirius explained, fiddling with the radio. “They give the password at the end of each episode, but it’s not hard to guess. Usually it has something to do with the Order.”

“That’s stupid,” Harry said. 

He had been feeling worse than usual since Yule. They needed to capture Bellatrix, and possibly the two Lestrange brothers. They couldn’t cover something like that up easily. Riddle would notice. He might suspect why they had been targeted, and notice his Death Eaters dropping off one by one. Harry wasn’t ready to face him. 

“I agree,” Sirius said. “It isn’t hard to guess who’s who, and the password is pointless if you don’t know what time they’ll be airing.”

“Instead of a password, they should have a code that, when solved, tells you the next broadcast time. Or a means to signal when they are about to air,” Theo said.

Harry shook his head. “I hate the name. No one’s watching me. No one’s even seen me since the portkey incident.”

“No one has thought to look in the muggle world,” Theo said. “It’s easy to get lost in a crowd. You blend right in.”

“It’s starting,” Sirius said, finding a seat. 

“Must we listen?” Theo asked, moving closer to Harry, who was growing more and more uncomfortable. 

He recognized Lee Jordan’s voice as River, who introduced Kingsley as Royal. Kingsley talked about the heavy losses muggles were sustaining, which struck Harry as slightly off. There were murders, of course, but the muggle population…

He shook his head. It didn’t matter how many more muggles there were. A death was a death. 

Harry cringed at the segment Pals of Potter, featuring Lupin as Romulus, possibly the most obvious codename in existence. 

“In what reality has Lupin ever been a pal of mine?” Harry asked. “And why are they broadcasting about the safehouses? Anyone could be listening in!”

“Good luck finding them, though,” Sirius said. “The Ministry knows the muggleborns are going somewhere, and that they’ve lost track of almost all of them. You’ve said it before Harry, there aren’t that many of us. Hiding a few thousand people in a city of millions is easy. Hiding them in multiple cities is easier.”

“They don’t have enough people to search,” Theo said. “They don’t even know where to start. 

“We’re all human, aren’t we?” Kingsley was saying through the radio. “Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.” 

“That’s a lie,” Harry said heatedly. “They don’t think Death Eaters are worth saving. They definitely don’t think Riddle is.”

“You know it’s not the same,” Sirius said. “They’re making a choice to follow Riddle, to go around torturing killing muggles and muggleborns and blood traitors.”

“Do you think Malfoy has a choice then?” Harry asked. “It didn’t seem like it when I found him crying in a bathroom, or when I saw Riddle threaten to kill him if he didn’t torture some random muggle woman they’d caught! And what about—”

Harry stopped himself before he brought up Regulus. Sixteen years old and a marked Death Eater. He knew Sirius felt guilty about leaving him alone in this house. He had once heard Sirius asking Kreacher why Regulus had never asked him for help. He wasn’t going to use that against Sirius. 

“People just happen to have Death Eaters as parents, or relatives, or friends,” Harry said. “I know it’s not the same. I know! I know what I’ve done…”

Theo watched him for a moment, then turned to Sirius. “Let’s change the station.”

Harry stood on a wintery coastline, on the outskirts of a village in south Cornwall. Shell Cottage was a lonely building on a cliff, overlooking the churning gray waters below. The whitewash had been scoured away by the salty sea winds, and shells from the beach Harry had arrived on were affixed to its walls, strung into chimes that sang mournful in the chill breeze.

Harry started up the cliff, leaving footprints in the wet sand. The tide was receding, leaving strands of seaweed and unearthed shellfish scrabbling to bury themselves once more. He walked through a garden bordered by bright sprays of sea lavender, their fleshy leaves caked with fine salt.

Harry looked south, towards the mist-obscured town of Tinsworth. It was one of the small half-magical hamlets where the dementors roamed at night. He turned back when he heard a door open. There was a cry of surprise, and Hermione was pelting at him.

“Harry! We haven’t heard from you in months!”

Harry winced when she crashed into him, but managed to return her hug. 

“How have you been?” he asked. “I didn’t know you were staying here.”

“Ron and I have been moving around a lot,” Hermione said. “The Ministry’s looking for us too. We’re wanted for questioning on your whereabouts.”

“Good thing no one knows where I am,” Harry said, following her into the cottage. “And good on you staying safe. That’s the most important thing for you to do.”

Harry smiled at Bill, and Fleur, who was busy making tea. 

“Harry,” Bill said, “good to see you.”

He was about to ask where Ollivander was when he noticed Ron sitting at the table, scowling at him.

“Is that where you’ve been?” Ron said. “Staying safe? Is that how my sister got punished for you showing up out of the blue at Hogwarts?”

“That was an accident,” Harry said. Hermione walked around him to sit next to Ron, while Fleur began to set out tea. She paused to pat Harry on the shoulder.

“She was sent into the Forbidden Forest!” Ron exclaimed.

“It was a total coincidence that they tried to steal something out of Snape’s office the same day I touched a portkey that dropped me in the middle of the pitch,” Harry said. “I didn’t mean to go to Hogwarts. And she was sent with Neville and Luna with Hagrid. We had the same punishment when we were eleven! There’s nothing that would hurt them in the forest, not with Hagrid there.”

Bill sighed and sat down. “I’ve tried explaining this to him…” 

“What portkey?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked out of a window, where he could see a piece of cloudy sky, thinking of a plausible lie to tell.

“The Triwizard Cup,” Harry said. “It must have been charmed to take the winner to the start of the maze. Before Crouch got to it, that is.”

“You’re going around collecting trophies?” Ron said bitterly. “Everyone thinks you’re fighting Death Eaters! Trying to kill You-Know-Who!”

“Why would you want the Cup?” Fleur asked. “After all these years?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Riddle used me in a resurrection ritual in a graveyard. We thought there might be some way to reverse it. I was examining the ritual site when I found the Triwizard Cup laying in the grass. I picked it up, and the next thing I know I’m in the middle of a quidditch game and Snape’s pointing his wand at me.”

“Is that what Dumbledore’s plan was?” Hermione said eagerly. She glanced at Ron. “We can help with that! I can research rituals…”

Harry shook his head, though he was starting to think his made up explanation might be worth looking into. “Theo’s an expert in ritual magic. We’ve been doing rituals together since third year. And the one Riddle used is, well, not the nice kind. Bone, flesh, blood, that sort of thing.”

“Nott again?” Ron said.

“Yes, Ron, my boyfriend. Did it ever occur to you that I might have to use dark magic to defeat Riddle? That it’s not all butterflies and unicorns? I saw him drinking the blood of a unicorn! That should clue you in as to what kind of magic we're dealing with!”

Harry noticed the tea he had been passed and took a sip. “Thank you, Fleur. While it’s fun talking about illicit acts of necromancy, I do need to speak with Ollivander. Is he up?”

“He’s in a bedroom upstairs,” Bill said. “Be gentle, he’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah, don’t torture him,” Ron said pointedly.

“I’ll make sure we use a safe word,” Harry shot back. 

“Why do you want to talk to Mr. Ollivander?” Hermione asked.

“I want to talk about wands, obviously,” Harry said. “Luna’s had hers taken. So have muggleborns, we haven't got them all back.”

Harry left the table and went up the stairs Bill had indicated. He hoped Bill and Fleur would keep the other two from trying to eavesdrop.

“Come in,” said a weary voice after Harry had knocked. “Ah, Mr. Potter. I’m told you’re the one who rescued us. I cannot thank you enough.”

“I had help,” Harry said, taking a chair next to him. Ollivander was propped up in bed, looking much better, more than skin and bones at least. “Can you answer a few questions for me?”

“Anything, my dear boy.”

Harry took out his wand, casting some silencing charms before passing it to Ollivander.

“Holly and phoenix feather,” he said in a tremulous voice. “Eleven inches. Nice and supple.”

“It shares a core,” Harry said. “Twin wands. What does that mean?”

“Brother wands cannot work properly against each other,” Ollivander said in a hushed tone. “They can wound, yes, injure, but not kill. Never kill.”

“But another wand could?” 

Ollivander turned to him with sunken, terrified eyes. “The Dark Lord had always been happy with the wand I made him—yew and phoenix feather, thirteen-and-a-half inches—until he discovered the connection of the twin cores. Now he seeks another, more powerful wand, as the only way to conquer yours.”

“I won’t ask how he learned about the twin cores,” Harry said. “You told me straight away about it. Did you tell Dumbledore when I got my wand?”

“I did,” Ollivander whispered. “You have to understand. The Dark Lord, he tortured me! The Cruciatus curse—”

“Mr. Ollivander!” Harry said. “I don’t blame you for any of this. I already suspected it. I just wanted to know what would happen if we fought using our original wands. Now I know, and I can plan for it.”

“He seeks another wand,” Ollivander said. “Not only to defeat you, but because he believes it will make him truly invulnerable.”

“The Elder Wand,” Harry said.

Ollivander turned to him, surprised. “How do you know this?”

“You were kidnapped. Gregorovitch was murdered”—Ollivander gasped, looking stricken—“it wasn’t hard to guess why. We learn about legendary wands in History of Magic. If it’s any solace, he won’t find it.”

If anything, Ollivander looked more surprised. “How—”

“Don’t bother asking,” Harry said. “Some things are better left alone. Do you think you’d be able to make a new wand for Luna?”

After some more idle conversation, Harry took his wand back and thanked Ollivander. He went downstairs to have another difficult conversation.

They were all still at the table, speaking in hushed voices that stopped once Harry stepped in. Ignoring this, Harry sat down.

“Bill, Fleur, you’re both still working at Gringotts?”

They looked at each other. 

“We are,” Fleur said. “Why do you ask this?”

“I can’t go to Gringotts myself,” Harry said, “for obvious reasons. I need to speak with my account manager, Griphook.”

Bill had a troubled expression. “Griphook has been on the run. He’s one of the goblins who left after the Ministry took over.”

Harry sat back. “Shit. Is there any way to contact him?”

“Why do you need a goblin?” Ron asked.

“He isn’t just a random goblin,” Harry said. “He manages my accounts.”

“Accounts?”

“Yes, Ron, as in multiple. How do you think we’re paying for everything?”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course! People have lost their homes and jobs. If the Ministry has taken over Gringotts, muggleborns can’t access their money. I should have thought of that…”

“Food, housing, clothing, quills, ink, parchment, potions, healers,” Harry said, Ron’s expression growing darker with each expense Harry listed. “Sending people abroad. It all costs money.”

“And you’re the one paying for it?” Ron asked.

“And Sirius,” Harry said. “Did you really think I’ve been sitting around doing nothing? I spend half my time brewing potions for people. It’s not like a muggleborn can take a trip to the apothecary. Wars cost money, Ron. A lot of money. Money that I have, and will continue to spend to keep people safe.”

Ron abruptly stood and stormed away. Harry could hear him stomping upstairs. Harry massaged his temples. “Did he think I was running around fighting Death Eaters in dark alleys? Never mind.” He turned back to Bill and Fleur. “Is there any way to contact Griphook? It’s important.”

Bill glanced at Fleur again. “I’ll ask around the bank. They may have assigned you another manager.”

“For Harry Potter?” Harry snorted. “I doubt that. No, it has to be Griphook. If you could find anything out, I would really appreciate it.”

Harry felt someone touch his arm. “What is it, Hermione?”

“I think we should try talking again,” she said, looking concerned. “I’ve read that book Dumbledore gave me over and over, and I think I know what he was trying to say.” She looked over at Bill and Fleur.

“We’ll give you two some privacy,” Fleur said, drawing Bill away. 

After they were out of the room, Harry said, “There’s really nothing to talk about.”

“Please, just listen,” Hermione said. “You don’t know what it’s like, hearing about all that’s happening and not being able to help. Ron was…very upset when he heard about Ginny.”

“He could have gone back to school,” Harry said. “He still could. Nev’s told me about them getting the DA back together, fighting against Snape and the Carrows. If he’s worried about Ginny, he should have a miraculous recovery from spattergroit and go back.”

“It’s not that easy,” Hermione said. “And we really thought Dumbledore meant us to work with you.”

“I told you last time, I don’t care what Dumbledore wanted. Haven’t you read Skeeter’s book? He wasn’t a paragon of light, or Merlin reincarnated. He was just an old, powerful wizard, none of which makes him infallible.”

“Alright,” Hermione said. “I accept that’s your opinion. But the book he gave me has a story in it, one about three brothers. One of them had an invisibility cloak, like yours.”

“Did he?”

“And there’s a symbol in it,” she said, pulling out books to show him. “A triangle, with a circle and a line.” She took out the book Skeeter had written. “It’s here again, in a letter Dumbledore sent Grindelwald. And I saw it at the wedding! Mr. Lovegood was wearing it!”

Harry nodded, looking at the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. “Skeeter didn’t start writing that book until after he died,” Harry said. “It’s a total coincidence that they published that letter. And that Luna’s dad was wearing the same thing.”

“Still, it’s connected! Well, we can’t ask Dumbledore or Grindelwald what it means—I don’t even know if Grindelwald’s still alive—but we can ask Mr. Lovegood.”

“Grindelwald’s still alive,” Harry said. “I already know what that symbol is. It just represents the items in that fairy tale. Some people actually believe they’re real.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “You wanted to talk to Mr. Ollivander about wands.”

“My wand, and getting a new one for Luna,” Harry said smoothly. “You think I’m looking for a Deathstick? Like I’d want something with a name like that.”

“How do you know Grindelwald’s still alive?” Ron asked, slinking back in. “Is Nott a fan of him too?”

“Theo isn’t a Death Eater just because his father is,” Harry said, pushing back his irritation. “Why are you so jealous of Theo? It’s not because you want to date me, is it?”

“What?” Ron spluttered. “No, of course not!”

“Then what exactly is the problem? His father? He hasn’t lived with him for years. You have no idea, none at all…”

“It’s fine, Harry, we know you trust him,” Hermione said. “He seems…nice.”

“How come you know Grindelwald’s alive?” Ron demanded. “Hermione doesn’t.”

“I doubt Hermione’s been to Nurmengard,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I just know, okay?”

“What, more of your visions?” Ron said suspiciously. “Like the one you had where you were Voldemort’s snake? That’s right, Moody told us about—”

Harry jumped up, drawing his wand. The sound of apparition popped like bullets outside.

“What have you done?” Harry said. “You absolute moron!”

Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak, searching for another exit. 

“Harry, what are you doing?” Hermione said shrilly.

“Did someone say Harry?” a rough voice called from outside. “It can’t be Harry Potter in there, can it?”

He spotted the open kitchen window and clambered through it, lowering himself carefully to the ground.

“We know you’re in there!” another one called. “We don’t care who we curse! Come out with your hands up, nice and slow!”

Harry felt a spike of fear as he crept around the house. Bill and Fleur must have heard them. Ollivander was likely scared out of his wits. 

Hermione and Ron hadn’t been in danger, not really, protected by Ron’s pureblood family. Harry learned about the Taboo before it could do too much damage. If it wasn’t Ron, it could have been Hermione who broke it. She never had learned discretion. 

Harry slowly looked around the corner of the house, and silently cursed. It was Fenrir Greyback, with what looked like half a dozen werewolves. They would smell him, or hear him, in a matter of time. He could run, but he would be leaving the others to fend for themselves. 

Harry aimed his wand. There was a spell he could use to deal with them all.

His hand tightened on the holly.

“This is your final warning,” one of them said. “Come out, or we start cursing!”

Phoenix feather cores were ideal for dark magic, so he had been told. 

Stepping out in the open, still hidden by his cloak, Harry whispered, “Pestis incendium.”

Vicious flames roared out of his wand, threatening to throw Harry back with their ferocity. He stood his ground. He knew he could control the flames. Occlumency helped keep his mind calm even as a gigantic, incandescent basilisk forced its way out of his wand, incinerating the garden and encircling the Snatchers. Phoenixes grew out of the basilisk's body, trailing flames as Harry directed them to consume the people he had chosen to kill.

People were screaming, not just the Snatchers who tried to conjure water with their wands, before the Fiendfyre snatched those up and burned them into nothing. Water was coming from the house too. People were shouting his name. His eyes teared up as he looked into the heart of the fire, snapping his wand to conjure more beasts. He had to make sure.

Someone grabbed his shoulder, screaming in his ear.

"Don't touch him! If he loses control—"

The Fiendfyre was playing havoc with his emotions. It was fueled by rage, and wanted him to lose control. He couldn't. Bill was right about that.

"Incendium finite totalum," Harry hissed, taking a step back as the flames retreated into his wand. The wood was scalding his hand, but phoenixes were creatures of fire. The wand could contain it. He knew it could.

In the end there was nothing left. Not of the garden, not of the Snatchers. They were just five sooty stains on the ground.

Five…

"Shit," Harry rasped. "One got away."

"Harry! What have you done!" Hermione shrieked, still grabbing him.

"Get off me," he said, coughing. "We all need to leave. One got away."

Bill and Fleur were there too. There must have been a back door.

"He did what he had to do," Fleur said coldly, anger flashing in her eyes. Harry remembered she was part veela, people who shot fire balls out of their hands. "They would have killed us all."

"You don't know that!"

"Harry's right, we need to leave," Bill said. "Before they send more."

Harry shook Hermione off. "We don't have time for you to freak out at me killing people."

"You killed them?" Ron asked, coming out of the house. Harry was disgusted to see he hadn't even got his wand out. Again.

"Utterly useless," he muttered, then started coughing again. "Fuck this, I'm leaving."

"Harry!"

He took a few steps away from Hermione and twisted on the spot, not wanting to see the looks on their faces. He wanted to go home.

Regulus' practice snitch hovered above his head. Harry caught it, released it, and caught it again. He hadn't managed to fix the one Dumbledore had given him, the one from his first quidditch match. The two halves were set on his dresser, next to the Triwizard Cup and the Elder Wand. He'd left the Resurrection Stone there too, with the Cloak of Invisibility hanging nearby. His spoils of war.

There was a knock at the door, and Sirius came in.

"We've finally heard from Bill," he said, taking a seat on Harry's bed. Harry let go of the snitch. "Arthur had to quit his job. Percy too. The twins have abandoned their shop, but got all their merchandise out. Bill tells me they're doing owl order now."

"That's good," Harry said, catching the snitch. Its delicate wings struggled between his fingers. He let it go.

"Greyback turned up in St. Mungo's, seriously injured."

"So he was the one that got away," Harry said dully. "Makes sense. He must have known what it was right away."

Sirius sighed. "I'm sorry you had to do that, Harry."

"I didn't have to," he replied, "but I did anyway. I wanted to kill Greyback. He's a child predator. He likes how they taste."

Sirius grimaced. "I know. He's the one who bit Remus."

"Exactly."

Harry caught the snitch again. "They'll hate me now."

"Your friends? You saved their lives."

"But I didn't do it in a pre-approved way. I used one of the most deadly and violent spells I know. Burning to death is one of the worst ways to go. There were spells invented to protect witches from being burned at the stake. It invokes an ancient fear in us. You know what Fiendfyre sounds like. It's the ultimate terror, the ultimate destruction."

"You know that isn't all fire is," Sirius said. "It can purify. Cleanse. Phoenixes are reborn in ashes."

"Is that what that was?" Harry said distantly. "A cleansing?"

He released the golden ball, and it sparkled in the firelight. Find the snitch, find the cup, find the dark lord. Game over.

"No," Sirius said. "You protected them. You made a quick decision. You were outnumbered. You've told me yourself you don't trust Hermione or Ron. There was a sick, elderly man upstairs. You were worried what would happen if word got back that you were with the Weasleys."

"It happened anyway," Harry said, hand darting out. "It's not fair what happens to werewolves. How many besides Lupin have gone to Hogwarts? What about the muggles who are turned? They're what anti-werewolf laws have made them. Driven into hiding by prejudice against dark creatures."

"I agree," Sirius said. "But being a werewolf doesn't obviate their choices. Riddle's side isn’t a better option. The Death Eater controlled Ministry has passed more oppressive laws."

"I know," Harry said wearily. "I wouldn't have been able to stop them with expelliarmus and stupefy. I've seen Hagrid shake off dozens of stunners. Greyback and the others would have done the same."

Sirius watched him play with the snitch for a while longer, then plucked it out of the air.

"Hey," Harry said, sitting up. "Why'd you do that for?"

"It's been nearly a week and you've barely left your room," Sirius said, grinning at him. "You haven't flown in a while. We could play a game."

"With two people?" Harry asked. "Weren't you a beater?"

"So?" Sirius stood up. "And we've got three people, five if we get Kreacher and Winky in on it. I'm sure there are some kid brooms around here they can use."

"I've never seen Theo use a broom," Harry said, warming to the idea. 

Sirius' smile grew. "Now you see my wisdom."

"I bet he's terrible at flying," Harry said, jumping to his feet and running from his room. "I'll go find him, he's probably in the library…"

Theo was actually pretty good at flying.

“How come you never told me?” Harry asked. “We could have gone flying loads of times.”

“It’s your thing,” Theo said dismissively.

“It’s not my thing, it’s just a thing,” Harry said. 

“I prefer watching you fly,” Theo said. "It's…exciting."

Theo led the way down the stairs to the cellar. After months of work, they had finally developed a spell that reacted to the presence of a dark mark, that would create a barrier to keep marked Death Eaters out of an area. It was time to test it on an actual Death Eater. 

Theo sliced a finger open, drawing a line in blood across a door. It swung open to reveal Dolohov. He had been under the Draught of Living Death for several months, chained to the same chair. Dead to the world. 

Harry pulled out the antidote he brewed and stepped forward. Theo held him back. 

“Mors obex totus,” he said, tracing a circle in the air with his wand. The open door frame glowed for a moment, then subsided. “It’s important to define the area.”

Harry nodded, then walked through, knowing the spell wouldn’t hurt him. They had tested it with conjured animals, then animals they’d captured outside, garden gnomes, and themselves. Harry shuddered as he felt the spell testing him for the brand. His scar tingled strangely, but nothing came of it. He walked up to Dolohov, and tipped the potion into his mouth. He quickly rejoined Theo outside of the door. 

They watched as Dolohov slowly woke up, groaning and shifting painfully. He tugged at his chains, trying to sit up straighter. “What…”

“I thought he’d be in worse shape,” Harry whispered. “Muggles in comas have to spend a lot of time exercising to get their strength back.”

“Magic,” Theo whispered back. 

“Where am I?” Dolohov demanded. “Who are you? Where’s Rowle?”

“Rowle’s dead,” Harry said. “Relashio.”

The chains retreated. Dolohov narrowed his eyes. “What are you—”

“Accio Dolohov’s clothes.”

Dolohov flew at them, as if grabbed by some giant invisible hand, then slammed into the barrier. Where it touched his skin he began to sizzle, and then he began to scream. 

“Repulso.” He flew back again, crashing into the chair. “You know, he didn’t have to be awake for this. 

Dolohov struggled upright again. “You—”

Theo stunned him, and Dolohov fell back, unconscious. “Percy Weasley has been arrested,” he said. “We can put this one in his place.”

They both turned as they heard someone coming down the stairs. 

“Sirius?” Harry called.

“Six months…”

Harry raised his wand. Theo was quicker, but his spell was batted aside.

“Six months, under Imperius. My own son…”

Thaddeus Nott took the final step and stood in front of them, hunched and withered. A bitter old man.

“Why?”

Harry looked at Theo, who had hatred etched in every line of his face. 

“For this filth?” Thaddeus said, pointing his wand at Harry. 

“You dare…” Theo said, pushing Harry behind him. “You dare raise your wand to him? Filth? You vile imbecile. Sæta.”

Runes flashed to life on the walls, running down in fiery lines that wrapped around Thaddeus, choking him. He fell to his knees, immobile, struggling to breathe. 

“Did you think,” Theo said, voice dripping with venom, with years of concentrated fury, “we would be unprotected here? You asinine, decrepit, repugnant excuse for a human.” 

Thaddeus glared at him defiantly. “You…just like…your whore…mother…”

Theo smiled savagely. “Yes, I am.” 

Harry watched in awe as Theo traced runes in the air out of pure magic. “I created this curse for you, father. This spell will define your reality from now on. Æ gjalda.”

Thaddeus’ eyes widened in understanding. Harry was surprised to see a cut appear across his cheek, then another. A bruise formed over an eye and the old man flinched. He bent over, breath rushing out as if he had been kicked in the stomach. 

“Something forever,” Harry said, watching as the old man continued receiving injuries. “Payment?”

“Atonement,” Theo said, voice ringing with dark power, a sinister fire in his eyes. “Harms inflicted by the subject on the caster. He feels what I felt.”

Harry took a steadying breath. 

“Kreacher.”

The house-elf appeared beside them, glanced at Thaddeus Nott, then dismissed him. “Young Master called?”

“We need to dispose of Dolohov. Theo and I…” Harry looked up at Theo, who had a feral look to him, his magic pulsing dangerously as if unsure what to do. “We’ll be here for a while. Could you take care of him?”

“With pleasure, young Master. Kreacher has plans for the one who attacked young Master, oh yes, the swine who attacked the House of Black…”

Thaddeus began grunting in pain, still trapped by the containment spell Theo had triggered. Harry swallowed, not sure what to do. Should he watch? Should he comfort Theo? Could he?

“Do you want me here?” he asked quietly. 

Theo suddenly grabbed him, pulling him into a tight hug. “You don’t have to watch. But I will.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Harry said softly. “I promised you I’d help you deal with him.”

So they stood there and watched. After some time, Thaddeus Nott began to cry.