Carry On

Harry blandly pulled out his phone. Well, the half of it that remained. He hadn’t made it through the blind apparition completely unscathed. But this was the phone with Reborn’s number. His few photos. Under the light of the Carcassa’s increasing awareness, Harry thumbed open the micro SD slot and quietly stuck the chip in to his pocket. He zipped it up, and added a protective charm to the entire pocket. His jacket had had so many modifications by this point that while he had lost a chunk of his jeans and most of his pocket (and the back heel of his left boot, actually), his jacket had survived unscathed.

((We’ll need to get some patches and sew them on~))

Harry had his wand in hand, a quick spell had his pants and shoes in working order.

A deep breath—the air was sweet grass and forget-me-nots. It was like the cloud over his mind parted in two and he could finally think. Everything was clear before his eyes.

The flood lights turned on.

Harry shaded his eyes with his left hand. And flicked his wand loosely in his right hand, quietly charming the ground under himself. Spelling the loose gravel firm in case he needed to run. Purple jump suited Mafioso rolled out of the open doors of the villa. None of them came toward him. Instead they expanded in to the space between Harry and the quaint villa that itched familiarity and slowly expanded out in a shallow circle around him.

“Skull!” A woman called, striding forward from the mass.

Oh, Harry remembered her body language. It was handcuff failure girl.

Harry shot out his wand—a silent LEVICORPUS—and the girl was wrenched in to the air by the ankle. Harry calmly walked the distance between himself and her. She had been midway between himself and the villa, but the distance was short.

For a moment it was pure silence—and then the clack-clack of guns cocked and ready to fire.

Harry stopped in front of the silent dangling of the girl.

His mind—the clearest it’s been in so long—allowed him to detect the magic in her suit, in her helmet.

“Where are you holding Albus Potter?” Harry asked, feeling a little distanced from the good cheer in his voice, and the smile he could feel stretching his face. This wasn’t the time to be cheery, but Skull-as-Harry had used his cheer as a distracting weapon and it sincerely and often worked.

The good cheer was disconcerting all the same. Seeing the aggressor so pleasantly cheerful was always off putting. The same disconcerting feeling that arouse when a Bond villain was too pleasant, too charismatic. The air became thicker.

Nothing from the suited woman.

“I want his location,” Harry adds pleasantly. Days in the Auror corps flashes before his eyes. Raids on the homes of those accused of the Dark Arts. Stake outs in the streets. Chases through Diagon Ally. And a moment, just like this. With Harry and his wand in hand—and someone helpless at his proverbial feet.

Harry did not much appreciate the silence.

He raised his wand. And out of the corner of his eye, watched the helmeted small army tighten their circle around him. A few wands spaced between semi-automatic rifles.

A quick reducto shattered the helmet of the dangling girl. Revealing a pale face with eyes and mouth scrunched tight. Thin red lines appeared where the helmet shattered against her face, but no blood appeared.

A quick shield protected their little bubble from the onslaught of spell fire. The guns had yet to dare a bullet. But that didn’t hold his attention whilst he knew he was safe under a shimmering shield. He and the girl both protected as the spell fire died down.

She opened her left eye. And then the right.  

Harry stared in to the electric green eyes of the girl from the apple tart café.

“…You…” Harry pressed his lips together tight, his heart giving one painful pound before his ears grew hot and his throat tightened.

“WHERE IS HE!” Harry finally yelled—his mind jumping to spells to MAKE her talk with a fluidity that he had missed. But with a raging anger he could have done without.

“Are you here to finish us off this time?” The girl asked, head shifting to the side. Her hair was apple blond and short. Harry hadn’t realized he hadn’t noticed the color, but it had just enough tinge to it to be familiar. The calm way she had phrased ‘this time’ sent Harry in to stillness.

Slowly he shook his head, “… I want my son.”

The girl blinked for a moment, “then let me down. Grandpa will be inside.”

… Grandpa?

Harry inhaled sharply, and mutely casted the counter curse. The girl dropped, but twisted in a way to land on her feet. She balanced with her arms out for a moment before she rose up to her feet. They locked eyes once again.

Grandpa? (It rang in Harry’s head—and he could see the color of his own eyes in her electric green. Different, but eerie in similarity. The shape of her face was familiar in a painful way that made his mind lurch.)

“Give me your wand,” she held out her hand.

Harry slapped her hand down with his left hand—“in your dreams,” he hissed. He refused to hand over his wand! That was the most ridiculous request he had heard in his life.

The girl hummed and took a step back, keeping her eyes on Harry as she minutely shook out her slapped hand. Never even daring to turn away even the tiniest bit in a way that the brave never turned away from oncoming death.

“… what do you mean by again?” It came out as a whisper, but Harry didn’t regret saying it all the same.

“I mean what I mean—I don’t say anything I don’t mean.” The girl continued on, still backing up. Harry paused, and with his wand in hand he took a step forward. A quick recast of the shield spell had that hovering in the space around him as he walked forward.

Harry glanced away from the girl to the Mafioso around them, “are they all indoctrinated? Italians?” Harry asked, reluctant to leave his eyes off the girl for so long.

“More or less, but we don’t swear on a saint and burn them as our induction,” she answered, both of her hands hovering behind herself as she approached the doorway of the main villa entrance in her backwards walk. The Mafioso around them backed up minutely, but not leaving more than an arms width away from them. The girl caught the doorway with her hands, and smoothly maneuvered herself to walk through the dark wooden arch and in to the brightly lit villa.

Harry was not going to take his eyes off apple tart girl—just as she wasn’t going to take her eyes off of him.

“… does the Carcassa indulge in the drug and skin trade?” Harry asked.

A negative shake of apple tart girl’s head. “No. We just let everyone think that.”

“… even me?” Harry choked it out.

"Even you. We’re not here to play the mafia game… Harry Potter.” The girl named him with complete confidence. She stopped in front of a set of closed doors.

“The Carcassa famiglia is a young famiglia—only 49 years. We’re a few months shy of a good fifty. As long as the big fish don’t catch a whiff of us, we’re just fine…” The girl leaned against the wide double doors that led in to the large dining hall that Harry could honestly never remember it being used.

Harry tightened his grip on his wand so hard it creaked. “And why, exactly, do you spread such lies?”

“Protection, of course. We don’t have ties with anyone, and no one wants ties with us. We are free to be as we were meant to be.” The girl explained. Her eyes glanced quickly to the wand, but they swiftly darted back up to look at Harry in the eyes.

“… and that is?” Harry hissed.

“The safe harbor of Harry Potter,” she murmured, and pushed the handles of the doors and stepped back and through the now opened doorway.

And there he was.

There they were.

Harry looked past the apple tart girl, to the three figures standing at the other end of the long table. Harry blinked, and relaxed his grip as he realized then and there—these were his children. They were his children and their aged faces were terribly familiar to Skull, they shown like little bright spots in his memories of the Carcassa.

The inner circle of the Carcassa famiglia. The elder three. The three underbosses. Those under the leadership of the first Carcassa boss.

“… you never used your real names,” Harry choked. Their faces linked together in his memories. His mental image of his children swiftly imprinted themselves as older. Much, much older. The soft wrinkles of their faces. The freckles that they got from Ginny.

“Homenum revelio,” Harry murmured—the only ones there were his children—and apple tart girl. Harry’s feet brought him thudding closer and closer to where the three stood. Harry reached the start of the long table, even as apple tart girl kept a pace just in front of him. But she wasn’t his focus. Just a small side thought.

His daughter, his Lily, merely smiled and held Albus’s hands. “Silly, we never changed them, not much,” her voice was as delicate as when she was a girl, but slightly husked with age. Harry thought he recognized the pink cardigan as one of Ginny’s favorites. It was old, well worn, and well loved.

“Giacomo, Giglio… Garth?” Harry trailed off as he named his children by the names they carried within the famiglia. “Why Garth?”

Lily’s face stretched in a smile as her grip on Albus’ hands switched to holding on to her brother’s arm with a laugh. “I knew he would question that!”

Albus let out a sigh, “… unlike you and James, my name didn’t directly translate to Italian! And I thought we agreed on the unification of ‘G’ names.” Albus reached out and gently shoved at James’ shoulder as his older brother loomed closer.

James merely grinned and stage whispered, “called it.”

It was like some strange fast forwarding in time. Lily, as always, holding on to Albus as the two brothers gently teased each other. Harry felt hot and cold seeing it—and strode forward. He ached to hold them, all of them! The last time they had been in his arms, they had all been able to fit. Hardly grown at all.

Apple tart girl planted a feet in front of Harry, and became a wall separating Harry and his children. They were only half a room away!

Harry heard a crackle in his ears, and between his blinks, he found the tip of his wand jammed against her throat.

And a knife at his femoral artery.

The girl pressed her lips together in to a fine white line—“you need to drop your wand, Harry Potter.” Harry’s hand trembled, and he watched the tip press just a tiny bit more against her air pipe, watched the tightening of the corners of her eyes. “Before you do something that you regret,” she continued, her eyes glancing to the right and toward his older children, before looking back to him.

Harry looked.

James had stepped forward. In front of Albus and Lily in a clearly defensive stance. James gave a shaky smile at the eye contact. “Dad…” James hesitated, “dad, please trust us. Please. Put the wand down.”

No one was surprised.

“… have I done this before?” Harry cracked.

“… yes.” Lily murmured, head slightly peaked around James shoulder so that she could still keep a wary eye on the situation. “And we’ve put in contingencies since then.”

“Is that why I don’t remember this room?” Harry asked, his wand completely still in his hand.

“It was redesigned, just in cases like this,” Albus stated as he edged back with Lily at his side.

Harry glanced down to apple tart girl—“and… what’s your name?”

“Liliana.” The girl, the young woman, spoke tersely. Harry eased the wand tip away from her neck and took a step back. The knife followed him until he stepped just slightly out of range. Liliana had kept her cool this entire time.

“She’s my granddaughter,” Albus supplied (Frank lied. The book lied. His Albus had had children!) from where he and Lily had almost exited the room.

James had been the one that stepped closer. In his hands now looked like a rapier.

“… I’ve been here before,” Harry echoed absently. And just from the reactions of everyone else, it had not been pleasant. “I’ve been here before, and I’ve caused damage.” And Harry did not doubt that he had done significant damage. His whole life had been spent getting stronger just so he could overcome difficulty after difficulty. Always getting stronger just so that he would never succumb to some neo-Voldemort.

“Please, dad. Your wand. On the table. Leave it there and no one will touch it.” James continued.

A choked laugh escaped, “just because my wand is out of hand doesn’t mean I can’t do magic!” The clouds were coming back in to his brain. His ears were hot and Harry had a shake in his heart as the world started to blur.

“No—but we can’t use magic anymore. Not many of us can.” James kept his voice soft, and his tone even. One hand up in a placating gesture. It wasn’t what James was doing that made the creeping flame end. It felt like ice water had been dumped over his head.

Harry looked to Liliana, who merely raised an eyebrow at the regard.

“There were wands outside…” Harry murmured.

“Those are the last of us,” Liliana added. “Whom wasted precious magic on you. They’ll get a talking to.”

It was just… too much.

“What happens if I put down my wand?” Harry asked. Eyes on Liliana.

“I will lead you to a room we have had prepared for you. You remember it, right? The bath?” Liliana slowly straightened up and flipped her knife so that she held it reversed in her hand. Her knees were still slightly bent, ever ready to spring back if needed.

With the phrase ‘the bath’, a mental image came to mind. A large stone room with sweeping windows. A cover for the stone bath… “A sensory deprivation chamber?” Harry frowned.

“The last great feat of Aunt Hermione,” James offered with a quirk of his lips.

“And what, I take a bath?” Harry wrinkled his nose.

Albus was the one that spoke then, having not retreated any further from the room despite being right next to the exit. “It’s a solution I’ve devised to see if you’ve had any physical tampering. Any skin contact potions. It happens frequently.”

“… I’ve done this… every other week?” Harry asked, eyes drifting past James to Albus.

Albus nodded, “yeah… Mafioso and wizards… Dad, you’ve always been easy to find. It’s just the matter of keeping you as whole as possible.”

Harry’s hands shook.

If he let his wand go, then he would be vulnerable. Because while he could still do magic, he was infinitely more skilled with a wand. Even just having it in his sleeve left him fully armed and more dangerous than most.

“Dad, we don’t know where you got the death stick—but you have to put it down.” Lily added, a bit more pale faced than normal.

“It’s not…” Harry looked to his wand.

It was his holly wand. Right? It looked like it. It felt like it.

“Please dad.” James murmured. “Please…”

(I can trust my children—Harry repeated in his head. He repeated it again and again and again—)

Harry peeled off his fingers one by one as he shifted and held his wand over the table side. Each finger he peeled off with the intent to put it down—his heart started to rocket. His breath shuddered and he alternated between burning and cold.

“Please,” his children echoed, and Harry blinked and watched the death stick drop.

It clattered on the table, and Harry dropped his hand to his side, glad that Oodako shot out and wrapped himself around Harry’s entire right hand. Harry took a shuddering breath and took a few steps to the left, stepping away from the table and putting some distance between himself and the table. Harry brought up his right hand and cradled Oodako to his chest, rocking the octopus that grew heavier as it grew larger at will. Its legs soon sprawling out of his arms before slowly wrapping around Harry in a loose hug.

His heart was racing, and his breath whistled.

“Harry… Harry!” Liliana was there, in front of his face. And he focused on her calm. She didn’t crack a smile, “you’ve done good. Thank you. Come, let’s get you in the solution. And in to the bath.” Harry took a shuddering breath and raised his eyes. Lily and Albus were gone. The only one that remained was James, who had his rapier in a sheath at his hip. Paired with the dark casual business suit.

Harry wobbled slightly, “looking sharp, son…” Harry tried to smile, reaching one of his hands out as Oodako transferred his wait to attaching himself to Harry’s chest. James smiled and reached out for Harry’s hand, before he froze and caught a look to the rune burned in to Harry’s palm.

“Blood magic?” James asked softly, finally closing the distance between their hands and turning Harry’s palm over so the chandelier above could illuminate the design.

James swiftly traced the design with his finger, and Harry let out a breath as the burning in his palms eased upon the contact. He hadn’t even noticed the burning sensation until it had eased. Harry brought up his other palm once he was sure that Oodako could support himself, and father and son watched as the burn scars bubbled, burst, and then peeled away to reveal fresh, healthy skin. James lightly picked at it, before he murmured, “I didn’t recognize the whole of it—did it lead you here?”

“Yes… I meant to find Albus…” Harry trailed off.

James quirked a smile, “well, it’s good that we were all in a place you could reach. The goblins will build up the wards again, so a small shattering is fine.”

“Goblins?” Harry rubbed his hands together, watched the peeling skin fall and disappear before it hit the ground.

“Yes, we provided sanctuary to the British goblins with a few… concessions,” Liliana tapped her knife against her cheek, “Goblin steel is superior to any metal that a man can make, after all.” James let out a huff and quietly told the girl to please put away her toys.

“What happened to the goblins?” Harry asked, because the ‘great goblin galumph’ was something that existed in the back of his mind, bubbling forward now that the topic was mentioned. James tucked Harry’s arm in to his elbow and quietly led them on toward the deprivation chamber. All of the hallways were made out of nice, old stone. Practically dripping with magic.

James was silent for a moment before he spoke, “well… you did, dad. I believe you were… thirty-three—when the unspeakables got a hold of you after your…” James trailed off.

Liliana filled in the gap, “fifth time slipping from unspeakable control.”

“Seems about right,” James murmured. Harry pressed his lips together and looked out of the windows of the hall to see the morning light was now decently illuminating the acreage around the Carcassa villa. In fact, Harry slowed down and squinted outside. Was that a centaur? James tugged on Harry’s arm, and they continued on.

“Those were not good times. We were able to get a forewarning to the Goblins, which brokered us the deal. But some Goblins had to be left behind to die. There were volunteers, but even then they are bitter over the whole event. Britain is not their favorite place at the moment,” James spoke solemnly. “We lost a lot of people, bringing you back from that…”

Harry’s fingers tingled. He focused on taking deep breaths. Up ahead was the room that contained the ‘medicinal bath’ that Harry-as-Skull had constantly used. Hadn’t someone sold the idea to him as meditative skin care once?

“Who… who died?” For me? It was silent, but the sentiment rang in the air all the same. They paused on the threshold of the room that held the deprivation chamber.

“Dad… let’s get you settled first. Then we can start from the beginning. We never… we never thought you’d be you again,” James reached out and brushed a thumb near Harry’s eye. Harry reached out and caught the hand, pressed it against his cheek.

Even though James’ words made so much sense. Logically… well, Harry hated the idea. He wanted to know now! Now! NOWNOWNOW—

Harry took a shuddering breath. “I’ll trust you.”

“Do you remember what to do?” Liliana asked, eyes ahead.

“… Just strip and go in, right?” Harry wrapped his arms around Oodako once more.

“More or less. No earrings. No clothes. When you get out, don’t touch anything you’ve been wearing before. We’ll have to scan them and decontaminate.” James reached out and brushed back Harry’s hair. “There will be a cloth set of sleep wear on a chair. Put that on, okay?”

Harry was stamping down the need to run as much as he could.

Of course, that reminded him… “my memory vials, could they handle a search?”

“Memories?” The word came out sharp and Harry stepped back automatically.

(If you can’t trust family, the wheel will only come full circle. And Harry was here.)

Harry slowly reached in to his pocket and withdrew the bracelet. A twist of his wrist and it was full formed again. The long belt and many, many clusters. James reached out slowly, and while watching Harry’s face, tentatively took it in to his own hands.

“Whose memories are these?” James whispered.

“Mine… as Skull.” Harry answered, whispering in kind.

Liliana and James glanced to each other. “Where is your pensive?” James asked instead. And Harry let his answer speak for itself. James grimaced, “you’ve been directly inputting them… I’ll have a Goblin give it a quick look over, and have Lily retrieve the pensive. Out of all of us, Lily is the best in this field.”

Harry’s hand shot out and clamped down on the best, his glove creaking.

“.. I.. don’t know why I did that.” Harry murmured.

“Let go dad. Please.” James didn’t tug away, and waited Harry out. Slowly, just as with the wand, Harry uncurled each finger and pulled back. James and Liliana stepped away. Harry turned to the threshold of stone that was here before him. There was a simple wall in front of him just past the doorway. With an opening left and right. Harry motioned to the left, looking over his shoulder to James and Liliana. James nodded, and Harry looked forward again. He stepped forward.

The stones around and above him lit up with a golden shimmer. Two steps in and Harry felt a great big yank on his chest. Two steps—and he stumbled over and in to the wall, planting.

And feeling so light—like he was floating.

“Compulsion charms, I believe,” James quirked a helpless smile, watching the shimmering stones. “Goblin magic, very handy.” Harry nodded, even as the helpless, constant anger he had been burdened under melted away. The paranoia, the rage, the need to burn everything and stomp the unworthy—

Harry took a shaky breath. “Right… right…” Harry rubbed his eyes and staggered to the left. He quietly followed the hallway and after a moment, stumbled in to the cozy chamber. The windows here were clouded for privacy, stretching from floor to ceiling. Harry saw candles and matches, but forewent them considering that the morning light was strong enough.

The center of the room had a stone bath. Every inch of it, inside and outside of it—runes. Beautifully handcrafted runes. Harry had never learned too much of runes. Sure, he could use them in a pinch, the simplest and most effective ones for Aurors. But deconstructing an entire paragraph of runic work? That was not his forte. Harry stepped to the tub and eyes and pale orange of the half-filled tub.

Harry tried to calm his heart with meditative breathing.

Trust in family. Trust in family.

Harry reached for Oodako, and gently placed the octopus on a comfortable chair in the corner, on top of the pale blue and white striped pajamas. Harry squinted at them, because that pajama set was eerily familiar. But he couldn’t put his finger on it. Harry backed away and took a moment to place everything in his pockets on top of the small wooden table tucked to the side.

The motorcycle. The microSD chip. The big of change and small wad of cash he hadn’t realized was there. The magic shoebox, and the trunk necklace. Harry eyed his ‘treasures’, and itched to hide them all away once more. He added his motorcycle keys to it, and made himself look away. He stripped out of everything and dropped it to the floor.

The coolness of the room—it was soothing. It calmed him.

“I’m safe here.” Harry murmured. And perhaps if he said it enough, he’d believe it.

Harry eyed the pale orange mixture. It looked like melted orange sherbet ice cream. It looked thick, too. Harry gagged slightly as he stuck his foot in. And immediately he shivered, it was cold like ice! Harry took several quick, sharp breaths as he stuck his other foot in, and eased himself in to sitting. Quickly, before he could think too hard over it, he laid down.

Just as he remembered, the sides of the tub stretched up and over his head. Stretching until both sides touched and sealed him in to a bubble of dark. Harry closed his eyes and focused on deep breathing. Everything tingled. It was a familiar sensation, actually.

Slowly, the liquid warmed up in to something pleasant.

Harry relaxed, and drifted.

Trust in family. Trust in James. Trust in Albus. Trust in Lily.

And if he ever saw Frank again, he would destroy him.

Harry doesn’t know how long he drifted, but eventually the tingling stopped. And the sides of the stone bathtub slowly retreated and lowered back in to its’ original state. Harry slowly sat up.

All of his scars were a bright orange. Harry stared for a moment before he placidly rubbed the heel of his palm over one of his more prominent chest scars. In fact… there was a huge swath of angry orange over his stomach, palms, and inner arms, a different color from the mild pale orange of his scars

This had never happened to him before. Or so he thought. Harry eased himself out of the liquid, which was more like a gel now. Harry eyed the shape his body left behind, wrapping his arms over his chest as he shivered in place. The light coming in through the clouded windows was noon bright, and it illuminated the room. Harry padded over to the lounging Oodako, and quickly stuck his strangely dry body in to the pajama set.

Once dressed, Harry reached for Oodako before he paused.

James said… not to bring anything back that he was wearing. Oodako was included with that, wasn’t he. Harry shivered and forced himself to step back. Oodako eyed him and gave him a lazy wave.

“Make sure my things are okay while I’m gone, alright?” Harry asked with a shaky smile. Oodako looked relaxed, so Harry would trust in that. Oodako wiggled slightly, before wrapping himself around the chair and settling in.

Harry took several deep breaths before he padded out of the room, barefoot.

Lily was waiting for him on the other side of the threshold. The stones didn’t glow this time around.

Lily did theatrically wince when she saw him, though. “Right. I’ll take you directly to Albus. He’ll sort out what’s been applied.” She explained, and wrapped her arms together in front of herself. Clutching at her own elbows to stop the temptation of reaching out to Harry. Lily had always been a big hand holder.

“How old are you, Lily?” Harry asked. Because he needed to focus on something else.

Lily chuckled, “well, that’s a familiar question. You always pestered me about that—when you were Skull. Always showering me with compliments. ‘You look so young, my Lady!’” Lily pitched her voice low in a terrible immigration of Harry’s natural voice, but a very accurate representation of Harry’s voice when he pitched it high to be annoying.

Harry grimaced. And Lily grinned at his face. Eventually, the smile wore away and she let out a breath, “I’m 86, years old.” She paused, then added, “I was eight, the last I saw you.”

Harry rubbed at his face. He thought… he remembered her there, at the Hogwarts express.

“I never went to Hogwarts. Shortly before I turned eleven… the plague hit.” Lily looked to Harry then, her fingers clenching hard on the sleeves of her pink cardigan.

“Plague?” Harry drew to a stop, and Lily stopped with him.

She nodded, before she shrugged and looked away. “Well, it wasn’t really a plague. Not in a sense that most would understand. I got sick, a really bad fever. And when the fever broke… I was a squib. A lot of witches and wizards were. Everyone under five. I was some strange… freak accident.” She shrugged her shoulders hard, but her voice was soft with old hurt.

Harry reached out to touch her shoulder, to draw her in for a hug.

“Don’t! … you’ll get contaminated. Albus has to look at you first… and then… then, I’d really like a hug,” Lily had stepped away, her smile forced and blinking hard to get rid of the sheen of tears.

“I.. I am so sorry.” Harry murmured.

She shrugged, “well, you don’t have to have a lot of magic to work with creatures. Or potions… or mind magics. I had just enough—but not enough to qualify for Hogwarts. Of course, even then…” She trailed off and shook her head. Resolutely she marched on, and Harry followed after, arms folded as well.

“I got in to raising magic familiars. And it worked out for me. Cats and owls, and... more exotic beings.” She smiled to herself, and Harry recognized their path as going to the villa’s medical ‘wing’, although it was a rather small space considering that the Carcassa famiglia didn’t house more than a hundred members.

“I even raised Oodako. I didn’t expect him to cling to you, like he did…” She trailed off. “With your magic in the wrecked state it was at the time…”

“Is that why he can change size when he feels like it?” Harry asked, surprised yet not about this revelation.

Lily laughed, “that, and much more! The dear thing, I think at one point you trained him to do massages… We have a large tank for him to relax in, once we make sure he is decontaminated.”

“Decontaminated…?” Harry prodded.

“Ah, just a quick scan though an arch, much like the one that leads to the bath. It should remove any charms or curses that could be there.

Harry nodded along. “So.. Lily, how old are you?”

Lily quirked a helpless smile at Harry. “old enough, daddy, where you shouldn’t ask a lady her age.” She breathed a sigh, “I’m eighty-six. It’s… been a long time, since I’ve seen you as you are. Mum was the one that figured out that your memories as Harry Potter were actually physically removed, rather than just blocked in your head. That had been… disheartening to discover, in all honesty.

“… how did Ginny find me?” Harry asked quietly. Even as he scrubbed through his head for some kind of identifying memory.

Lily looked to Harry as they came to full stop before the warm wooden doors of the medical wing. “Mum… had Kingsley and the remains of the order that swore oaths on their magic—they helped her infiltrate the unspeakables. Long enough for her to… set a way to track you.”

Harry’s stomach churned. His head felt like it was on fire.

“How…?” He murmured, faint.

“… Albus would be best, to explain.” Lily concluded, hand raised as if to touch Harry’s face, before she quickly brought her hand to the door and pushed it open.

The face looked above him. Holding strips of Chris’ flesh in front of his eyes. “My, I think this helps.” That was Chris’ face! It was his face! The world had tunneled and all Chris could see was the stick that could cut coming to the corner of his mouth and—

“Warbeck! Come over here and finish the insertion.” A pause, “now!” The man ripped open the side of Chris’ mouth. And Chris hadn’t thought he could feel even more pain. But the scream that ripped out of him was animalistic at best.

A man and woman shuffled over as Chris’ torturer stood and left his limited field of vision.

The colors were washed out and wrong. But the face was familiar in shape. As if Chris had seen it hundreds of times before. Tears were pouring out of her eyes, and she had hundreds of little stones hovering in the air over his body.

“It’s alright, Gertie.” The man whispered. But Chris couldn’t look away from her face.

“I’m so sorry, Harry…”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Raising his hands and hiding his face as he choked. He choked on tears and air. His knees were on the ground and he really couldn’t… he just… couldn’t.

It had been Ginny! She had been there! Her colors might have been altered. And her hair… but Harry could recognize the curve of her cheek. The shape or her nose and brows.

“Dad..” Murmured a voice next to Harry. Harry heaved—phantom pain in his face.

Stones. Stones pushed in to the wounds left behind. The slow push and insertion of the stones—

Harry heaved again.

“Dad, look up.” The male voice begged.

Slowly, Harry complied.

There was Albus, kneeled on the floor across from him. Hands splayed out harmlessly and eyes begging.

“There you are…” Albus murmured, voice cracking.

Harry raised his eyes beyond Albus, to Lily, who was wringing her hands and pacing to the side. She was actually in tears. Albus made a soothing noise, and that gathered Harry’s attention.

“Dad. We need.. I need you to drink several counter potions. I just… need to rub some paper over the afflicted areas to find out what you’ve been dosed with. I need you to stand… on your own, and get yourself to a table. Can you do that?” Albus bit his bottom lip, the whites of his eyes so prominent.

“Albus…” Harry choked.

“Come on dad, you can do it. There are no dragons here.” Albus murmured, shifting to slowly stand. He moved so slow, Harry thought he heard the creaks and pops of old bones.

Harry shuddered and lurched to his feet.

The bed was close. That was fine.

Between blinks, he was sitting, and Albus was decked in a full medical coat and blue gloves. He had a paper that he was rubbing over Harry’s mouth, making a soothing noise every time Harry flinched when Albus touched the large facial scars.

Albus pulled the paper back. It was the same angry orange as on his hands, and stomach. Apparently it was over his face as well.

“..what is that?” Harry slurred.

“The vestige of a long lasting mind altering potion,” Albus murmured as he brought the paper to several clear vials off to the side. Methodically, Albus peeled strips of the paper away and inserted them in to the vials. The papers dissolved in to the clear liquid. One turned violent pink.

“Do you know what it is?” Harry used his sleeve and rubbed at his face. Wiping away tears.

“… unfortunately, yes.” Albus held up the pink solution with a grimace.

“… what is it?” Harry needed to know.

“Well, there was never an official name for it—outside of generally calling it ‘the dragon taming potion’, invented by Charlie Weasley. Created for direct application to the hides of dragon infants to foster feelings of love and compliance so as to make the care of orphaned dragons easier…” Albus swirled the potion before going to the closed wooden doors of a large cabinet. Albus opened it, and started to search through it as he continued to talk. “Some tosser in the twenties adjusted it for human application. It’s been a menace since then. Directly apply it to the skin, it has a three day waiting period to soak in. And once instant of the afflicted feeling safe with someone and bam—instant loyalty.”

“It needs the three day gestation period to completely permeate all the cells of the human body. From there, it can induce pain if the afflicted try to shift their loyalties, think of going to someone other than the one that the potion has latched on to—and of course, afflict retaliation pain.” Lily murmured, hovering close. “It lingers in the body for up to five years.”

Harry felt cold.

So… so when he thought of Longwei…? Harry let out a sigh, his tense muscles relaxing.

Albus and Lily shared a look, and Harry punched the bed with his fist.

“Counter-potion?” Harry ground the word out.

“Do-able,” Albus stated, pulling out several vials and jars and placing them on a large work station.

“Don’t drink anything yet,” James stated as he pushed the doors open. “We’ve got a maggot infestation.”

“.. Maggot?” Lily frowned.

James glanced to Harry, before he sighed and drew in close. James held up one of the vials of memories and shook it. “Maggots. Tiny things. They’ve been placed inside the vials—dad’s been shoving them in to his head.”

“Maggots!” Lily sounded much more alarmed. “Memory or brain infesting?”

“Wait, what?” Harry hissed out, on his feet.

“Mum always said if you don’t know who made it, don’t consume it!” James pointed at the vial accusingly.

And that was true. That was very much true. It stemmed from the diary that Ginny had fallen in to step with a long time ago. The long ago statement of Mr. Weasley wobbled in to place, ‘Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.’

It’s always the unknowns.

Harry groaned and dropped his face in to his hands.

“Maggots first. Now. Everything else comes second to that,” James insisted. Lily and Albus murmured their agreement as Lily went to the cabinets.

“Daddy, lay down. I’ll get something whipped up,” Lily insisted, pointing to the bed that Harry had left.

Harry hesitated, “my memories… are they…”

“We’ll have a mind healing session after. We’ll see what we can do, okay?” Lily offered, quickly turning on a Bunsen burner and setting a glass vial on top. Water. Powders. Glass spoon.

James came in to Harry’s field of vision, “dad, who gave you the vials?”

Harry, irrationally, remembered Reborn asking the same question. But here, the answer slipped out. “Frank Longbottom did.”

James stared for a moment before his face twisted with anger, even as he paled.

Albus’ head swiveled to stare. “The turncoat?” He whispered. It echoed.

James’ face was grim. “Is this true?”

“Y… yeah…” Harry murmured.

“Dad, tell us everything. From the start. Please.” James’ hands came up in a familiar begging motion. Harry felt sensation leave his legs, and he dropped heavily on top of the bed.

Information was give and take. His children were sharing as much as they could while still making sense. They were helping him. Family could be trusted.

So Harry opened his mouth and recalled what he could. Feeling the gaping holes in his memories as he scrambled to go over everything said to him. Everything he saw. How Harry came to consciousness in the ministry of magic, under the eyes of Frank Longbottom.

How later, in the department of mysteries, Frank had him unconscious for an unknowable amount of time. Hidden next to the veil of death.

The fight and burning of Grimmauld Place.

The… the time lapses. Everything. He could think of.

Lily pushed a mug in his hands. Creamy white and thin liquid inside.

“It’ll get rid of the maggots. I’ve added a sleeping agent. You’ll be burning pretty hot, but we have you. Okay daddy?” Lily murmured.

Harry stared at the cup. Then to his children.

“This is the safest place on the planet, made just for you.” James insisted, and Albus nodded.

“… Ginny made this, didn’t she?” Harry asked.

Lily nodded, since his eyes landed on her. “Mum was boss. Until she passed. Liliana is going to be the next boss. We’re all… a little too old.”

“Focus on getting better, dad. Everything else. That’ll be in time. Okay?” Albus spoke, motioning to the mug.

Harry took a deep breath, checked the temperature, and downed the tasteless concoction in one go.

It hit his stomach, and churned angrily. Harry lurched, hand going to his mouth even as Lily collected the mug. For one moment, Harry was afraid that he had been duped. That he had been betrayed. But then it calmed down. Slowly he eased himself down and closed his eyes.

“I’ll stay with dad. Work on the counter potion,” Harry heard Albus speak, even as someone drew a blanket over him. “Lils, go talk to the centaurs, see if they’ve seen anything in the stars…”

Harry heard James murmur, “Lily, please make something we can use to kill off the rest of the maggots… the vials need to be viewed.”

Harry cracked his eyes open briefly, and watched his children drift away from his bed. He closed his eyes, one moment feeling terribly awake.

And the next, nothing.

Harry woke up screaming—a face twisted and burned by fire above him, and twisted hands on his shoulders. Everything was on fire. The heat, it swelled over his face in waves and he thrashed. The demon lost its hold and fell away. Harry jumped, scrambling up and to his feet. The blanket twisted around him and he slapped wetly to the floor.

“Dad… dad! … st… hal…”

Albus… that was Albus! He sounded so far away.

There. Harry stared at the demon. It was looking at him! Its face blackened and cracking and it opened its mouth and spoke with Albus’ voice, “…. Just…. Hallucination! Dad!”

Harry dry heaved.

The fire burned hotter.

Cold water was dumped on his head. Harry jumped—and the fire was gone. It felt like he had been running. His chest heaving as the cool water kept coming. There was a young boy, with a hose from the little hand sink pointed at Harry. Harry groaned and dropped his head till his forehead touched the floor. An answering groan came from Albus, who slowly creaked to his hands and knees.

“Bit too rough, dad…” Albus wheezed.

Harry laughed weakly. “It’s… its hot…”

The water stopped. The boy was there, a hand laid gently over the back of Harry’s neck.

“He is really hot, sir.” The young voice murmured.

“It’s alright. Let’s get some ice packs…” Harry was soon settled in and tucked with some ice. Albus leaned over Harry, and Harry blearily watched his son.

“Dad… I need to check something. I hate to do it… but I need to make an incision.” Albus had his gloves on, and scalpel in hand.

Harry cringed away. The last time someone loomed over him with a weapon, as far as he could remember—there had been a lot of blood and pain. “What. Why?”

“It’s just… the tears, I need to make sure they’re still active!” Albus hurried, already reaching for Harry’s arm.

Harry choked on the fear, eyes on the knife. “What tears? H..hey!”

The boy was at Harry’s elbow, stilling his arm.

“The phoenix tears. The tears and venom never really left your system, you know…” Albus trailed off and made such a quick incision, Harry hardly felt it. A hiss of air contact, a small wisp of near invisible smoke, and the cut bubbled and healed over with nary a smear of blood.

“Okay, okay—it’s all still active. Lily’s potion must have triggered it. You’re burning out everything in your system. We’ll keep the ice on you so you don’t cook alive. You’re in good hands, I swear…” The hands on his arm pulled back, and Harry cradled it to his chest.

“Please… make it stop…” Harry murmured, the fire in his head felt so heavy, he gagged.

An ice bag was laid over his chest. And two were tucked around his neck.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. We have you…” Albus murmured. Black spots raced though Harry’s vision.

A few blinks, and then… darkness.

Harry shivered, cold as he woke up to the darkness. The window was open wide, and the moon was only a little less than full outside.

“Harry Potter…” A male voice murmured, and Harry startled slightly before he turned to the right.

“… Firenze.” Harry choked, recognizing the aged face of the centaur that was sitting on the ground next to his bed. Firenze hummed, eyes still fixated out of the window to the moon outside.

“The moon smiles upon you. Good fortunes.” His quiet voice was like a pin drop to the room.

“Rest, Harry Potter. You are where you’re needed.” Harry watched the withered hand come out, and let Firenze gently closed his eyes. “Rest, you will need it.”

Harry surrendered, and slept.