Courting Destiny

The autumn cold wind carried the dry leaves of towering Oak and Rowan trees, lined up to form a golden canopy on the gentle road leading to the great lake of Hogwarts; dwelling colonies of Merpeople, Grindylows, Selkies and giant octopuses. One of the many places in the Hogwarts Courtyard that is home to many magical creatures. At much warmer temperatures, the big lake, also called the black lake, is often used by Hogwarts students to swim—or if you're a brave boy—to frolic with giant octopuses. But at the cold autumn temperatures, almost no one comes close to the water. Even if you can use a warming spell, it is still unpleasant to have to swim among the thick fog.

This afternoon, Harry was a bit lucky. Seeing that the mist did not come down from the mountain, so he could still enjoy the boundless view of the lake. He sat under the Oak Tree that grew by the lake, on his lap, the children's storybook Of The Three Brothers opened several pages near the ending. The book Luna gave him as if he was carrying it knowing Harry would need the thing. His fingers played with lord Peverell's ring on his finger, a ring with a precious stone symbolized Peverell—what Luna also called The Deathly Hallow. Three symbols of sacred objects from children's stories. Still vividly remembering Luna's answer when she asked, why did she have a pendant with the Peverell family symbol.

"This pendant has been passed down for generations in my family, Harry." He replied with his eyes. "Given lovegoods are a family devoted to Peverell. If Flint is Merlin's knight, then Lovegood is Peverell's knight. The fall of Peverell was the fall of Lovegood. No one appreciated Lovegood's strange and eccentric attitude of seeing what could not be seen other than the Peverell family. It made us fall on the estranged side of the wizarding world as Peverell vanished."

That's why Luna calls him lord

Because that's why Luna called him a lord. Not because he is the heir of Potter, but because he is a vassal of Peverell. If the Lovegood family put Seer down, then it's no wonder that they attributed themselves to a family with the same talent and a strong influence in the magic community to gain protection. This practice is naturally found in small and closed communities. For example, the Crabbe and Goyle families associate themselves with the Malfoy family. It's no coincidence why Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were protective of Draco, they were literally his knights when viewed from the traditional lens of the magic community. Although Harry was sure Draco also thought they were good friends.

Back in the Tale of the Three Brothers, he had protested to Marcus, why didn't anyone tell him about the fairy tale made under his surname. Of course, it made Marcus surprised, because as a child who grew up in the magic community, he automatically thought Harry had also read the story. He forgot that, of course Harry had never heard of it because he grew up in the Muggle world. Apparently the Peverell Brothers' third fairy tale is as common as the Cinderella or Snow White stories, which makes it not important enough to talk about.

Moreover, even though the magic community now knows he is a descendant of Merlin, whose notaben also makes him have Peverell's blood, but no one knows if magic changes his name to Hadrian James Peverell. Thus, no witch knew that he was the official heir; anyone can claim to be a Peverell, but not all of them are acceptable to the lord's ring. Moreover, there are still many who do not 100% believe in Sketter's article, such as those who are fanatical with dark lords or who need to see with their own eyes. That doubt was backed up with Harry turning down all the exclusive interviews the Daily Prophert offered. He values his privacy more, rather than the skeptical attitude of the wizard.

A splash of water sounded suddenly from the originally calm lake, making Harry look up suspiciously. From its waterline comes the top of the Merpeople's head. His misty eyes stared at Harry, before disappearing back into the water in an instant. Harry's green eyes looked blankly towards the mountain in the distance, while his ears heard the melodious voice of the Merpeople woman who was about to save his life;

I heard your voice in the wind

And I heard you call my name

"Look, kid, I'm the voice of your destiny.

Don't be afraid, follow me.

Answer my call and I'll set you free—"

Harry continued the singing loudly, "I'm a voice from the past that has always been full of pain and spilled blood. I'm the voice of the future, bring me—"

"Peace. Peace." The wind blew violently, the leaves fell around it in a vortex. Harry spun loudly at the sound of baritones continuing his singing. An Cantaurus stood behind him; her pale blonde hair was bound and draped over one side of her shoulder. Her blue eyes stared in a bewitching manner, "... and my wounds," he continued, whispering the last stanza, "... they will heal. I'm the sound of wind and rain pouring down. I'm the voice of the future..." (1)

(1) Original title song : The Voice. Lagu bangsa Celtic.

They looked at each other in silence

They looked at each other in silence. Two different complexities; one, the young wizard with no experience, but seeing more than the darkness of the world to steal his innocence, and the other is a magical creature burdened by his blessings, excommunicated from his people. As they stared, Harry felt fate rolling under his feet, like a pendulum spinning hard without direction, as if he was on the edge of fate-setting.

The silence was broken by the bewitching baritone voice of the Centaurus, "It was the first song taught by the mother of land to her children, the first nation to walk on the face of the earth before the birth of dementors. A sacred song that never changes millions of times. It is only remembered by those with old eyes and bones that are tired of bearing the brunt, a song that the ears of human children have long forgotten."

"I'll hear it from Merpeople."

"Will, huh." his blue eyes blinked, as if seeing something Harry couldn't see. Then looked up at the sky, "hearing you sing it, it makes me curious whether now the stars will roll back to shine on the human child? Does this mean that the king of the north will appear?"

"The king of the north?"

"Hm... there is a prophecy. When the world was young and the high elves walked freely on it, when the stars not only shone on them, but were part of them. A prophecy was spoken from the mouth of the wisest high elves for a human child. No one knows the nature of this prophecy other than a hope. Some say, this prophecy is about the son of man who will prevent the apocalypse of the world. Some say this is a prophecy for all heroes. But still no one knows, whether this prophecy has been realized or not. Do you want to hear it?"

Harry swallowed. Divination is nothing new to him. Since his first breath, Harry has always been surrounded by him. Divination showed him the way, but also gave him trials. Every prophecy that is seen and heard, will change something in his life, because that is the nature of divination. Would he be able to bear the brunt if he heard it?

But there is always a reason for every step made, as is the case with why a Centaurus, the creature seer naturally born, stood in front of him to deliver a prophecy. It was not his power to resist fate. It can only revolve around it or outsmart it. But it never really stopped him. So that finally Harry nodded.

The man's baritone voice came from his low voice, but it was heard loudly in the blowing wind. As if crossing a lake and bouncing off the mountains;

"A Crow flew to the Full Moon in a winter storm.

When the Messenger had already arrived, the Kingdom would burn razorally to the ground.

The Mage and the Demon came to go.

The Messenger is already coming, the King of the north will rise."

The moment he heard the prophecy, in his ears heard more than that. Altafindë's voice came again, whispering words in his bewitching voice, "Harry Potter. The last Peverell..."

"... The boy of destiny, the boy in the prophecy, the chosen one..."

"... The doomed child goes..."

"... have to go to get to know the meaning of going home..."

Harry clenched his trembling hands tightly.

"Harry Potter, it seems that your eyes are seeing the future. Like an old Seer I knew a century ago, she also has a silver ring that adorns her retina every time lady fate whispers to her. But for you, apparently it's not just lady fate who whispers along..."

"What do you mean?"

"The Centaurus senses are not only sensitive to what this world exists, but also outside and behind it. When I heard the lady fate whispering in your ear, I also felt the heat of magic and the sharp smell of death. You bear a great destiny, boy, greater than you imagined, or what you saw," the man ducked his body, as if paying homage to someone who bore a heavy burden. "I'll be honored if you're willing to call me Florence."

"Na—my name is Harry Potter..."

"Really?" the tone of his voice doesn't sound like he can't believe it's his name, but something else. "Well, if you want to be called that," he said with his head down. "See you, Harry Potter."

Harry returned to his room in the Slytherin house still a little uneasy. Marcus raised an eyebrow from behind his quidditch magazine. But, instead of recounting his encounter with Florence, Harry instead spouted, "Do you know I have one of the three Deathly Hallows?"

Marcus stared at him for a few seconds, "What?!"

"It looks like Potter is descended from the third child in this story," he waved his book. "I have a Cloak disappeared," he said as he pulled out the cloak from the pile of clothes in the closet and threw it over the bed.

"How can you be sure it's not an ordinary disappearing cloak?"

"From Dumbledore's greeting card. He said he had borrowed it from my father, and it was appropriate for him to return it to his son because this was an inheritance belonging to the Potter family. But there is no disappearing cloak whose spell does not fade after—" he shook his hand, "My speculation is two or three generations? Which if my suspicions are correct, probably more than that."

"And that thing doesn't weaken his spell at all..."

"Yes, right? After all, Potter is another name for Peverell—well, after before changing his name to Pavel, Pavol, Povel—I don't know what these Slytherin descendants thought..."

"You're also a descendant of Percival Slytherin," points out Marcus, "Who knows you also inherited his habit of changing names."

Harry looked at Marcus with his eyes fidgeting, then nodded, "You're right."

"What?"

Harry frowned, "You believe me, right? You didn't think the three Deathly Hallows were just fairy tales, did you?"

Marcus opened his mouth and closed it back, he shook his head at the conversation that suddenly changed direction, "I consider Deathly Hallow to be just a fairy tale. But after meeting you? I don't know anymore what fairy tales mean. You have a habit of making things impossible happen. Survived the Killing Curse? Bah is trivial. Stabbing dead dementors? Do I need to also add the matter of trouble with all these descendants of Merlin?"

"Hey!"

Suddenly, Marcus froze, "That's why magic changed your name!" He pulled a roll of parchment from his suitcase. "As we already know, Percival Slytherin is Salazar's second son, making him not a Slytherin lord. But he created his own empire by becoming Lord Peverell. Some say that by changing the name of the magic, it also throws away the curse it carries. Therefore, Slytherin's blood limit was locked after he changed his name to Peverell, just like Peverell's blood limit was locked after he became Potter. But the key opened when you came into contact with Voldemort's magic and rituals in Gringgots. Magic didn't turn him into Slytherin because Voldemort was still alive. Had Voldemort died, then magic could have changed your name to Slytherin as the only surviving descendant of Salazar."

"But why is the door of Slytherin's room open just for me?"

"It could be because Tom Riddle is not the slytherin lord. He became a Slytherin lord after he became Voldemort. I don't know what he did, but obviously, when he was a teenager, the Slytherin house didn't recognize him as a heir or a lord," he again pointed to the parchment laid out on the bed. "You and Voldemort met in three generations; first, of the two Slytherin brothers, secondly because of the marriage of their descendants and third, the marriage of Iolanther Peverell to Hardwin Potter," he pointed to the other line, "and as Hermione once said, Percival Peverell married a merlin descendant who also gave you a connection to Gryffindor."

Harry shuddered at the sight of the pureblood marriage practice. Fortunately, Percival Slytherin did not let his family practice inbreeding and married his descendants to the descendants of Merlin and Gryffindor. He couldn't imagine if he had to lose his magic like the Gaunt family.

"That's why as Potter the ability to talk to snakes only appears after you come into contact with Voldemort's magic. There is a myth in the wizarding world, that you can't really hurt your own brother. Magic blocked him. But, it doesn't mean that it can't be done, it's just more difficult, because your magic is familiar with each other."

"Uh... Mr. Olivander also said that our wands are twins..."

"The stick of the kemb—that's right. You've said that while in Gringgots. This is bad. It's really bad."

"What—"

"You need to find another stick to fight against the dark lord. If it is true that your wands are twins, and you are still inbred, magic will not let you hurt each other."

"You think anyone wants to sell me another stick? Doesn't the Ministry forbid it?"

"It's not a problem, a lot of stick makers are illegal, although not as good as Olivander's shop. But I realized choosing a suitable wand is not as easy as choosing candy—"

"The wand that chooses the wizard, right?"

Marcus nodded, "Or we can try other alternatives. Wardless magic or new conductor. Wardless magic gives you the flexibility to move around when fighting, but it's incredibly difficult to learn. Moreover, you will have difficulty with high-level spells without the help of conductors. If you choose to use conductors, there are many options such as precious stones, staff... but we need to find someone who can still make it..."

"Em... can't we try both of them and find which one is suitable?"

"Of course." That's the most ideal choice, especially since they don't know the time left until the fight with the dark lord occurs. Closing a choice for no apparent reason is something unacceptable.

Harry again turned his attention to the parchment. "Why isn't Voldemort's father's name mentioned?"

"It's a natural thing because Muggles don't have the magic to add their own names in the genealogy. If the wizard family doesn't add it, then it's left blank."

"I wonder why no one knows about the origin of the dark lord, just looking at this we can be suspicious about his origin."

"Harry. Even I wouldn't know if it weren't for the ritual that Gringgots performed on you, and it was for a fee that wasn't cheap. I got this list only because of my father's standing in the Ministry. Pureblood pedigree is something very guarded; no one wants the name of each squib or half-blood recorded there to be known to the public. You think how all those purebloods maintain their sanity besides secretly mixing the blood of a non-pureblood? We know the adoption of blood that can be done in secret. Even you can do such a cheating thing by erasing memories and making no one know about the secret."

Harry gasped, "It's terrible! No one knew they had adopted a child—"

"The practice is only carried out on one or two generations, and not all families do it. Flint didn't do it because we accepted a half-blood marriage. But many also ignore the dangers of inbreeding such as Gaunt, Crabbe and Goyle..."

"It's disgusting. But I understand because that practice has also been done by Muggles centuries ago to maintain their nobility status." Harry mined, "Um... if Malfoy?"

"Ah... perhaps more appropriately, they don't choose among muggle-born or half-blood..."

"Veela? So that's not gossip?"

"With features like them? of course not. For Malfoy it was more tolerable because Merlin himself had Draconis blood. But of course like many other secrets in the magic community, this is an open secret. Everyone knows it, but no one talks about it, except behind the curtain closed and heard by the ears of the most trusted person," Marcus stuffed the chocolate piece into his mouth, before adding, "As for the secret of the origin of the dark lord, the secret is only known to the first generation of Death Eaters."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Dad has connections. Once you're under our protection, it pries all the information about the dark lord. Especially with Horcrox out there, we need all the information."

Harry nodded, "What has lord Flint gotten?"

"Hm... the first generation of Pureblood, they are the generation who saw Tom Riddle's charisma firsthand, and followed Voldemort with complete loyalty. They kept Voldemort's real name like guarding a sacred hallow and carrying him to death, even from their own descending child. A secret that you now uncover and know every pureblood in Slytherin house, and I bet shortly until it spread among the black wizards," Marcus grinned. "If this continues to happen, then we won't have to raise our hands until our plan is successful." Seeing Harry's expression, the young man added, "Don't you see the way they look at you now? Now they're starting to realize you're not just a Survival Boy or a white witch hero. They began to see where your blood and loyalty came from, why magic blessed you with Slytherin's exclusive abilities. They will begin to wonder why the dark lord failed to kill you, why are you the one who is recognized by magic as a descendant of Merlin? All of that will make them doubt the leadership of the Dark lord and replace their alliance with you. Isn't it, it's better to ally with the first generation of purebloods than a half-blood dark lord?"

"Pureblood," Harry commented flatly. "Inbreeding and their traditions. I still haven't made it out of the nightmare of seeing my down son as blonde as Malfoy!"

"Well, who knew it was a vision of the future? You're a cousin of him anyway," marcus sneered.

"Just because my grandma is her grandmother's sister! There is nothing blonde in the Potter family! It's just a nightmare!"

"Which also makes you cousin to Sirius Black," Flint chimed in.

"Uh... Well, at the very least this gives us a hint that the Gaunt family or even Voldemort himself, holds one of the Deathly Hallows, which is most likely, if Gaunt is a descendant of Cadmus Peverell, then is the resurrection stone..." he gasped, "Does this mean death is also real?"

Marcus blinked, "Why are you shocked. You trust lady fate but not Death? Your Portunus is Thestral and you commemorate Samhain every year right? You realize it's a Death party, right?"

Harry sat down limply, "Don't tell me it means I heard the sound of Death?"

Marcus wide-eyed, "You hear something during the ritual."

"Uh..."

"Unbelievable..." she whispered.

Harry was pensive. The future is still vague regarding the Deathly Hallow issue. Is this because Death's influence hinders his vision? But obviously, little did he see enough to tell him he wasn't living a normal life (the blood and chaos were too much to call normal). "Maybe that's why I had a strange reaction with the dementors... if it is true that Peverell did indeed make a pact with Death, doesn't this mean that my blood is thick with Necromancy?" This made the wrinkles on Marcus's face even deeper. Harry continued, "If it is true that the dementors are the Necromancers who have lost their way..."

"I wouldn't think that far unless you want to be made paranoid. We don't know very well about the art of Necromancy because it is not taught by Hogwarts. Before Seth or Hacan brings the literature about it, I want you to stop speculating."

And wait for Harry. But that doesn't mean he stopped feeling anxious. The literature is clearly written down; being related to Death is not colorful and magical things. Everything was always about warning of his dangers of the practice of Necromency; the records left at Hogwarts always relate to tragic deaths or tragedies, although perhaps it was also because Hogwarts wanted to make its students as far away from this art of magic as possible.

While waiting for news from both Vampires, Harry enjoyed the quiet day left over from his first week at school. Well, though the drama still graced that quiet day; "Oh, dear," professor Trelawney's shrill voice greeted him as they crossed paths at the entrance of the great hall. Several students and professors turned their heads curiously. "I saw The Grim!"

"The what?" Harry knew Grim, a mythological creature that looked like a black dog. But he is not familiar with all this dramatization.

"Grim, my dear. The Grim! That's omen—a sign. The worst omen—from the Dead!"

Oh, good, the inner is flat. Everyone looked at him; the students and professors, Lavender covered her mouth with a sympathetic hand, almost like a heartbreak, and Hermione, who looked skeptical, competed with professor Snape and Professor McGonagal.

"Oh, dear. I'm down sorry..."

"Really?" said professor McGonagal, "You just gave him a word of sorrow," he turned to Harry, "Don't you think about his remarks, dear. Unless you come into his class," his tone in the last sentence almost sounded like acquiescence as Harry had stayed away from that class.

Before professor Trelawney had time to retort, Harry cut in, "Ah, but I'm indeed going to meet with Death, Professor. Soon Samhain, doesn't it mean that we will all meet with Death. What makes me weird, you should have seen Grim on everyone too!" he gritted his shoulders and stepped away in the middle of the Hogwarts professors and students who were still nga.

Well, professor McGonagal may not believe in professor Trelawney, but that doesn't mean she is a fake. The woman just looked at it in a different way and tried too hard. He can sympathize with that woman because there is no one who can teach him to be an Oracle. At the very least, the Oracles in the Temples of ancient Greece or the Temples of the Incas are still more valued than in the middle of the British magic community. No one understands the weight of being a talking tool of lady fate. Harry felt a little luckier because as a Seer, he got his vision all the time, so he didn't have to bother proving himself.

Ron yelled at him as he sat in front of her, "Trelawney predicts death all the time, you have to look at Longbottom's expression when you hear her predicting her tragic death. The child almost peed on the pants." Several Slytherins around him picked up their plates and sat down at a farther section of the table. Ron and Hermione had already learned to ignore him as they sat at the Slytherin table. Of course, this is largely due to the protection marcus provides. But this was already part of their plan, to integrate Slytherin with other dormitories.

"You're lucky not to take that class," Hermione grumbled as she put her pile of books in front of Harry.

"Hm... it doesn't mean that because I didn't take that class, then I don't understand Divination."

"What do you mean?" said Draco.

He grabbed the glass filled with tea, "Try drinking." He waited until the blonde boy finished the contents before sucking it back. He glanced at his dregs in passing, before looking at Draco with a serious look, "Be careful of Hippogriffs."

Draco swallowed hard and began to paled.

Hermione frowned, "You believe him?"

Draco picked up the glass of water, "That's Harry who said..."

"So?"

Draco shuddered, "What is said usually happens."

Hermione cast a sharp gaze full of speculation at him. But Harry ignored him for the sake of roasting turkey.

Harry almost laughed loudly when he saw Draco's arrogant expression turn 180 degrees after seeing the Hippogriffs in their first class with Hagrid. Had Hermione been able to stop looking at him, perhaps he enjoyed this comedy even more. The result of his warning was that Draco didn't even dare to approach him for more than 4 meters and wasted all his chances of riding on the Hippogriffs and, but was also kicked to a broken hand. Well done, this meant Harry could enjoy the time left with the calm over Hippogriffs' back.

Hermione urged him at lunch. The girl pounded the table in frustration to the point of making Harry jump, "What the hell—"

"You can predict the future?" asked Hermione suddenly.

Harry blinked, "Why do you say that?"

"You always say weird things every time there's going to be a big incident happening," he pointed out, "Also the episode attack that made you act like a zombie," he nodded towards Draco, "And you also stopped him from doing something—which I guessed—would endanger his life, Hippogriffs are not creatures that arrogant people can deal with."

Harry threw a strange look at her, "Hermione? I just read his tea dregs. I can do it to you too," he grabbed the tea and told the girl to drink it. After looking at the dregs for a while Harry said, "You have to give up the Muggle Class."

"What?"

Harry grieved his shoulders, "from that tea dregs I saw you had a big failure. A big failure for you, I think it is not to pass the test. How can it be? Maybe it's because you're tired? But why can you get tired, you don't even join the quidditch team! Of course, if it was Hermione, it was because she was busy studying. But how is it different from last year? Last year we weren't given the freedom to take classes, unlike this year. means that you mostly take classes and have to let go of one of those that is not important—just like a Muggle class!"

The girl was at a loss for words.

"Look. It was nothing special at all. I just combine it with logic. You can also do that in Divination class before Trelawney frustrates you."

"But that makes it just a prediction..." he said as he sat down losing steam.

"What have I ever said about the Divination class, Mionie? You won't be able to suddenly see the future. You can only predict it! The class should have changed its name to the Prediction class and changed all the titles of the book. But it wasn't done because once upon a time Seer's talented wizard kids got a chance to know their hidden talents in that class. So, it's okay if you can't see the future, it's okay to think reading tea dregs is ridiculous, because unless you're born Seer, that class is just a prediction class for you," Harry smiled softly as he patted the top of Hermione's already crying head as shed all her frustrations.

For a few moments they just sat like that, while the other students walked in a detour avoiding their play. Even Marcus stepped back while raising both hands. Before long, Hermione straightened her back and wiped away her tears. The determination was clearly exposed on his face. "I understand. I'm going to give up the Muggle class. Trims, Harry. I don't know, I need that."

"Well, it's nothing. It's just that, I didn't open a therapy class, so there's no next time," this answer earned him a punch at the top of his head.

In his Defense Sciences Against the Dark Arts class with Gryffindor made him see Hermione's changes; he seemed much healthier and energized from getting enough sleep. At the very least, this eased his headache from seeing many of Hermione's alternatives go in the opposite direction at one time. He knows time travel is very helpful in lessons, especially when you're in a lot of classes, but that confuses Seer! After all, what is it to use that kind of tool for daily affairs?! It's different if you want to save the world!

Harry was envious of the children who were just thinking about the continuation of their class. It's not that all the lessons are unimportant, just like Professor Lupin's class. All the third-year children seemed to be curious about the surprises that Professor Lupin brought to their class. The man is arguably the best teacher this class has ever gotten, mainly because the news of the curse made many Masters of Defense Sciences refuse to be offered a job at Hogwarts. Perhaps Lupin would have the same fate as well, especially seeing professor Snape's attitude of trying to divulge the man's identity as a Werewolf through the veiled clues of each potions class (which obviously made Hermione even more unable to stand still out of curiosity as to what exactly the man meant, instead of Harry intending to tell him).

Harry was grateful that Lupin hadn't tried to approach him, though he often felt the man's gaze at him. He saw a shocked expression when he knew Harry was wearing a Slytherin uniform. Snape said he wore a look of horror as he told him about Harry's ability to talk to snakes. Maybe the man thought he was Voldemort's reincarnation or something? Well, Harry didn't care. If he is curious, he can read Dailly Prophert. Rita still hasn't stopped writing about herself, in a negative or positive way depending on her mood.

Harry didn't care about Remus Lupin, the man left him to Dursley without ever looking at him and only believed in the words of the crazy old man that he was fine. But it is undeniable that Lupin is an interesting person, not because he is a friend of his parents, but because the magic in him is different from what comes out of his wand. It acts like a white wizard, even though the turbulent black magic in him is like a dammed whirlpool that wants to break out. Perhaps at first he was indeed a white witch, before being bitten by a werewolf. But shouldn't he adjust when his magic nature changes? By not accepting half of himself, Harry couldn't imagine the pain as the man changed with each full moon.

But it is undeniable that he always has something new in his class. As it is now, all the children sit to their respective benches, open their books, quills and parchment. But the man just stood in front of the classroom with a meaningful smile.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Please put all the books back in the bag. Today we are going to do the practice. You're going to need your wand."

Some curious gazes were divided as the children performed their orders. The Defense Class has always been weird, and they have never done any practice, except when the teacher last semester who brought pixies was held and released their release before running away.

"Alright. Please follow me."

Curious but interested, they all followed the man towards another part of the castle, passing through the long corridor where the ghost Peeves disturbed them and called professor Lupin strangely, "Loony, Loopy Lupin," he sang, "Lonny, Loopy Lupin." Of course as a reliable Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the man easily drove away the ignorant ghost with the mantra, "Waddiwasi!" which Harry recalled, perhaps Peeves intended to plunder him.

They ran into professor Snape in the corridor. The man stared intently at their mob, before giving professor Lupin an accusing look. The man's hatred was evident in his gaze. "Maybe no one warned you. This class has Neville Longbottom. I will give you advice not to give him anything difficult, unless Miss Granger whispers instructions in his ear."

Neville flushed violently with a body trembling over the humiliation. Although it is true for those who know Nevile, it is cruel enough to say such in front of him. If Harry hadn't known that all of that was just a cover as the most loyal Death Eater who had always hated Gryffindor, perhaps Harry had also joined in hating his head of the house like any other Gryffindor kid. Only people who really know professor Snape know that if that guy really hates you, he won't waste his time at all for you. He's the kind of guy he is, who chooses to ignore rather than have a confrontation. After all, it was Snape's unique way of showing his concern for Neville, although it was completely useless to alleviate his trauma.

But instead of getting angry, just like when facing Peeves, the man just smiled, "I instead plan to make her my assistant and give her a chance to be the first to practice." It showed great patience qualities. No wonder that guy doesn't match his savage side. The man's character was too gentle to dare to risk hugging the other side of himself and accepted the fact that he was no longer a white wizard.

The man stared at Snape's dramatically fluttering cloak, still with a smile. But Harry saw sadness and regret in his eyes. It was as if something had happened between them that made him regret something.

They ended up getting into a long room with a lot of benches placed on the side of the room. In the room stood a closet in the corner, in a place not exposed to sunlight. "Now—" professor Lupin stood next to the closet that suddenly shook and crackled loudly. "—there's nothing to be afraid of," he added at the sight of his students' expressions, especially Neville. "Inside there was a Boggart," Neville and now plus Seamus paled drastically. "Boggart has always liked dark and closed places. The closet, the bed-to-bed, the bottom closet of the dishwasher—I personally met him in my grandfather's old age. This one came yesterday afternoon, and I asked the principal for permission to let it be a third-year child practice. So, the first question. What is Boggrat?"

"Shape-Shifter," Hermione said. "it's transformed into what scares us the most."

Then the man began to explain about the nature of the Boggart and its weaknesses, while occasionally throwing questions. The man gave them a spell to learn before starting the practice. The children called out, "Riddikulus," together waving sticks.

"Good. Now, let's get started. Neville? First of all, what scares you the most?"

Neville murmured.

"I'm sorry. Can you repeat?"

"P-Professor Snape, sir."

"Hm... I believe you live with your grandma, don't you?" Neville nodded, "When I opened his door and Boggart began to transform into Snape's professor, imagine that she became your grandmother."

"A-I understand... but I don't want Boggart to turn into my grandmother..."

"No, no. You misunderstood. By all I mean, imagine what your grandmother's clothes usually look like—" all of that continued until Neville was sure he was able to do it. During that time Harry tried hard to contain the laughter. Can guess what will happen next. Hermione threw it with a sharp gaze, as if she couldn't sympathize with Neville. He shook his hand off, "Just wait, Mione. This is simply ridiculous!"

"It's all backwards! Marched! Neville would be the first. Neville are you ready? one—two—three!"

Neville stepped back as professor Snape walked out with a fierce look aimed at him. "R—r—riddikulus!" squealed Neville.

There was a small explosion sound, before Snape stumbled; she wears a long dress with a flag, a big hat, while swinging a large red bag. All the children laughed, making the creature stop, confused and professor Lupin exclaimed, "Parvatil! Go forward!"

They took turns facing the creature, until it was Harry's turn. A smile was still on his face as the dancing spider turned into a cloaked figure—and suddenly turned into a full moon as professor Lupin stood in front of him. "Riddikulus!" the man still seemed to lose his breath, but tried hard to turn his gaze on harry who was still frozen to disperse the class. One by one the children left, Malfoy tried to attract his attention, while Hermione gave him a worried look. It wasn't long until it was just the two of them in that class.

"Why did you stop me?"

The man just kept silent.

"Are you afraid my Boggart will turn into Voldemort?"

The man took a short breath and choked up, "Don't you think so?"

Harry poked his head, "I never really met Voldemort to be afraid. I thought I had another fear, but I didn't know that."

The man stood stiffly, like a hard iron, but there was also determination in his eyes, "Do you want to know? Your fear?"

Harry blinked, "Well... I have the magic wand and the spell."

The man stood on the side of the closet. "In the third count?"

Harry nodded.

"One—two—three—"

A black figure floated out. Unlike dementors, the black robe was elegant, but a second later the picture turned into a sea of fire, what looked like Diagon Alley was burning with a corpse bubbling, a second later it changed again to Dumbledore brandishing a wand at him saying, "I'm sorry, my son—this is for the sake of greater good," came professor Lupin's voice gasped, "Dumbledore disappeared a second later, replaced by Marcus's silent body and blank gaze lying pale— "Riddikulus," he whispered, but the spell was so powerful that the creature was thrown into the closet. His wand was still scrambled and he saw it vibrate in his grasp, following the trembling all over his body.

"Harry..."

Harry smiled, in a calm tone he said to professor Lupin, "Well, apparently my fear is more than one. But it seems that Voldemort is not among them. bye, professor," she whispered resigning before the man had time to speak, leaving him standing frozen in silence with the monsters lurking in the closet. At that moment Remus Lupin realized that something great had been experienced by his best friend's son; it wasn't just that he entered Slytherin and was adopted by Flint. His fear that made him most uneasy was Dumbledore's figure. What had the old man done until he became Harry Potter's biggest fear?

Harry walked quickly down the corridor and ran out towards the library. Now that Marcus is committed to graduation, the young man is always found there in between his activities. He didn't wait twice to sneak into his stool and sit on his lap. The young man raised his book and straightened his back in shock. He blinked as Harry wrapped his arms around his neck. "Uh, just hug me," she muttered as she sank her face into his hard chest. Marcus instantly wrapped his arms around Harry's waist.

"What's the matter?"

Harry just shook his head.

"Hm... do you want to go on a date?"

Harry froze, before suddenly looking up, he squirmed while whispering in disbelief, "What?"

He grieved his shoulders, "With the dementors, Black, and all the stress you get? I think it's good if you can relax during our visit to Hogsmeade."

"A-what—" Harry's cheeks flushed, "—you're going to take me to Madam Puddifoot's café?"

"Hm... Madam Puddifoot's café? The place was too bright and pink for my taste," she added after a second, "Not my favorite place to give you the first kiss—" Harry waged with a bright red face, "—I prefer a more elegant romantic place than Madam Puddifoot's café," she brought her lips closer to Harry, wielding her head slightly so that her lips fell touching the tip of his lips, "A place that can give us privacy—" Harry pushed Marcus's face while hiding his face it's myself that's on fire.

"Please stop joking on something like this!"

"Sssstttt!" one of the students hissed towards them. His face turned ashen when he saw Marcus's expression.

"I'm not kidding, dear," Marcus lifted her up in a sling and took her out of the library.

"K-you think I believe you?! You have sadistic humor, Marcus."

He frowned, "Not on you, never on you. I've always been serious."

Harry opened and covered his mouth, "Then what do you mean by pretending to be a lover!"

"I think we've passed the pretend part," he smiled, "But if you want me to formally propose to you, I have to wait for you to be old enough, darling," the young man pecked the bracelet in his hand, while exhaling a familiar protective magic.

"Apply?"

"Of course we won't do it all at once. First, we go on a date first, and since we're past the part of getting to know each other, we're going to jump up to get the first kiss—"

"Stop. Stop, please!" Harry's face couldn't blush more than this.

"Since when are we going out? I thought it was just pretending."

Marcus blinked innocently, "I never said we were pretended. I just said you need to think of me as your lover, and you agreed. We've been dating ever since."

Harry looked at him with his mouth pursed, at a loss as to say what to say to hear absurd logic coming out of the mouth of a carefree Marcus Flint as if it were a normal thing.

"I call it nonsense! How can I know if you have never expressed your feelings for me!?"

"Ah... order, sequence. We've slept in unison—" a group of Hufflepuff students passing by seemed to choke and stumble before colliding with each other, "—sharing dishes, up to clothes—"

"I only borrowed your clothes as a child—"

"tut, tut... details, details. We've jumped the order too many times, just kissing right away."

Harry's head fell on Marcus's shoulder with a limp, "I'm confused, I'm the one who misunderstood or you're a sociopathlike. Why didn't you say it clearly in the first place? Why is it new now?"

Marcus's smile faded again, "your trials will get heavier Harry, and I want you to know I'll always stand by your side, whenever."

Harry sighed, and flashed a sharp look, "So, how many times have you counted our walks as a date?"

"In..."

Harry threw both hands in the air, a desperate gesture.

As promised, during a visit to Hogsmaeade later that week, Marcus took her to visit Madam Rosmerta's restaurant and inn. Three Broomsticks also has a bar and many Hogwarts students come there to taste Butterbeer. Of course, it is different from most visiting students. Marcus rented a table that could provide privacy even at a slightly expensive price. There was a table placed in the side garden that gave them a view of the green grass and golden trees that were starting to bare as winter approached. No one protested with the cold air because they were witches.

As if knowing they were dating (probably from their place selection), the woman lit a scent therapy candle in the middle of the table and winked meaningfully at them saying, "Enjoy, dear. Call me if there are any additional orders," he put down the bell that was given a red ribbon.

Harry blushed violently, but he nodded. Know this place better—much better than Madam Puddifoot's café. The food is also famous for being high-end and nothing beats the enjoyment of the drink from where Butterbeer was born. The two young witches engaged in an exciting conversation that did not involve any romantic thing at all. It's easy for Harry to dissolve into the conversation and forget that they're dating. At the very least, until Marcus put down his spoon, helped him up and the two of them walked hand in hand leaving the place.

Harry thought Marcus would take him back to Hogwarts. But he stops his stride at the familiar old tavern, where they first meet Seth and Hacan. When they passed by his cowboy door, they could immediately find two unusually sharp-featured people in the middle of a shabby old tavern. Anyone can see if they are Vampires, with ears or fangs that are easy to indulge in. An effective move to make others dare not interfere in their affairs.

The two waved at Harry and gave a gesture of allowing them to sit down. On the table, there are already several stacks of books. Impatiently, Harry reached for the top book, Seth began, "I suggest you guys don't give him any spells because this book is too old to bear it," suddenly he froze and sniffed.

Hacan covered his nose, "Are you guys wrestling or something? The fragrance of you guys has become very sharp."

Harry flushed.

"Oh," Seth threw an ignorant smirk, "Are you done doing that?"

Harry squirmed, "do what?"

"I... tu..."

Marcus responded, "What we're doing is none of your business."

"Oh, protective huh?"

"I've heard, the first one tastes like Cherry—"

"Stop it," Harry said frustrated.

Marcus cut in, "Don't you guys want to hand over the data about Necromancy?"

Hacan raised both hands, then pointed to the pile of books. "It's not all, but it's all we can bring out."

"I know not to ask your reason for looking for literature on Necromancy. Even so I must give you a warning, no matter how deep you study this literature, you must not practice it without the supervision of a Master," he turned to Marcus, "Keep it in mind for the safety of your lover."

Marcus menggangguk.

"I won't practice it. I just want to know the information."

"Good. If after reading all this, you're interested in learning more about it, Avalon offers that program. You can sign up there when you are 16 years old, we can't accept less than that, but it can be more."

"If you can tell, why all of a sudden Necromancy?" asked Hacan full of research.

Marcus took a sip of his ale and lightly replied, "Harry can kill dementors."

The two Vampires looked astonished. Even Hacan is like spouting a series of swear words in various languages.

"Well, that... unusual. So you investigated the reason why Harry was able to do it?"

Marcus mengangguk.

"If I could give you a suggestion," Seth rubbed his chin. "Maybe it's worth meeting Master Necromancy. If he can kill the dementors, it is very likely that Harry has awakened Peverell's connection with Death. You're going to do the Samhain ritual?" seeing Harry nodded, he added, "Maybe you can try that connection there. Who knows what's going on."

"Do you think it's harmless?"

Hacan blinked, "Death? He's not dangerous unless you want to outsmart death."

"But how? Related to Death..."

"There are many ways. I believe you can find it, if Peverell is indeed in your blood."

They ended the meeting after Seth had finished his fresh blood. But before they had time to move on, Harry said, "Before that... can you talk one-on-one with me?"

Marcus looked at him full of selidik, but did not comment. The curious Seth just nodded and followed Harry towards the deeper tavern room. He didn't flinch when he looked at Harry who was twitching uneasy in front of him, "I can't give you advice on relationships. The last romantic relationship I remember was tragic with the woman falling prey—"

"Not because of that!" interrupted Harry as he blushed. "I just want to ask for help..."

"Does this have anything to do with Marcus?" seeing Harry's surprised expression he added, "you wouldn't have had me to talk one-on-one if this had nothing to do with him, and your expression convinced me was indeed because of it."

Harry swallowed and nodded, he tentatively said, "Are you able to find a way to freeze time to keep the body of a person whose soul is detached from his body?"

"Missed? Isn't it dead?"

Harry nodded, "The tool should be able to guard his body until his soul can return..."

"I have... one way—"

"One is more than enough," Harry replied determinedly.