Carry On

Harry opened his eyes when the air stopped roaring in his ears. When his stomach stopped squeezing, he lifted his face away from where it was pressed against the back of Liliana’s neck. The bike trailed to stop—they were only a minute away from the Arcobaleno mansion when Liliana turned the bike away from the gravel road and in to the woods around the beaten path.

A few feet in, they came to a stop next to a stone that, at any other moment, Harry would have considered inconspicuous and a non-threat. Harry numbly watched Liliana kick out with her own steel toed boot to a divot in the rock. Instead of a thud-scuff, Harry heard a chime and click—and the ground ahead of them, the mulch and dead leaves and dirt… sank down like a ramp to an underground garage.

Liliana rolled them forward and in to the mouth of the earth.

The earth swallowed them. The night disappearing behind them as the earth groaned and made itself whole. They were in the pressing dark before swaths of torches hissed to life on both sides of the tunnel they were in. Harry squeezed his eyes shut briefly before he blinked them open, the sting of sudden light after complete darkness had faded swiftly and left him able to clearly see the fine details of the tunnel walls. It wasn’t packed dirt like he had first assumed… but carved stone.

Harry narrowed his eyes, focusing on the carvings as Liliana let them drift forward a bit longer.

“Liliana,” a masculine voice spoke, and Harry’s eyes darted from the stone carvings holding the torches to the waiting figure that quickly stepped over. A tall, leggy man stepped away from the wall. Decorated in a purple jumpsuit that matched the one that Liliana wore. Harry shivered, and through his numbness he could feel the tingle of the enchantments that radiated off of Liliana and this new man. It was a cloying sensation that Harry couldn’t quite put a finger on, but registered all the same.

This man had the same familiar-but-not sensation that all of the children of his friends gave him.

A man with Weasley red hair. And swarms of freckles.

“Fab,” Liliana responded in kind as she pushed out the kickstand of Harry’s bike and turned off the vehicle. Liliana tilted and looked over her shoulder to Harry. She didn’t have to open her mouth before Harry unlocked his arms. She nodded and stood, slipping away from the driver’s seat to move and stand before ‘Fab’.

Fab reached out and pressed a hand on top of Liliana’s head.

“I’m not hurt,” Liliana murmured, and Harry looked away. This moment felt… intimate. Harry’s eyes caught the bloodstain of his pants and he quickly followed it. There was a significant amount of jeans missing, considering that it was one bullet wound to the leg. Harry reached out and paused.

He turned his hand over, palm up.

The whole underside of his glove was missing. Just the pale flesh of his scarred skin. Harry blinked. And then pressed his still gloved hand to the cold blood on his thigh. He counted to ten and then raised his hand. The glove was still intact… with a bit of cooling wet on it.

“The effect is temporary,” Liliana murmured, and Harry looked up to where she was standing at his shoulder, with Fab standing behind her back.

“… I’ve never noticed it…” Harry murmured.

… this could only be the ‘aberration’ that he had been called. Harry clenched and unclenched his hands before shaking out the tingles. There was no longer a bullet hole in his thigh, and only the memory of what transpired remained.

Harry willfully turned his thoughts away.

Arcobaleno no more.

Skull no more.

Harry had burned his bridges.

“Do you have a bike?” Harry asked, his attention back on the two. Fab gave one big nod and Liliana looked to the side where, parked next to the wall of the tunnel, sat a darkly purple bike. Harry recognized it… but at the same time he couldn’t claim to have ever seen it before.

Harry focused his eyes on the tunnel. “… what is this place?”

“This is the result of The Underground project. Great grand-mum started it a long time ago. It was the first multi-race project that the Carcassa did. A series of tunnels spread throughout the underground of Italy. Reinforced and hidden through Goblin magic.” Liliana’s voice echoed against the black. The torches only lit up their small section. Everything else was a maw of black.

“… why would the Goblins…?” The back of Harry’s neck prickled, and he slowly looked over his shoulder in to the black of the tunnel behind himself. Harry couldn’t see it… but something was watching him. Liliana followed Harry’s gaze and stared in to the black as well.

“… it’s for the betterment of all. When the last of magic fades from us humans…. Who would be left but the Goblins and other magical beasts?” Liliana lowered her eyes before she shifted her weight. “… the Carcassa has access to all, but the control of it will remain with those who created it. We are safe here. We insured it.” She added for good measure before she turned and moved to sit astride her own bike. Fab slid in to place behind her.

“Come along now. We have a potion waiting.” Liliana glanced down to the hands around her middle, checking to make sure Fab was in place.

Harry spoke before she could ignite her bike.

“Albus said I had to take a dose every five hours….” Harry remembered that.

“Yes. They’re spaced. The potion can’t stay on the burner… and the magical qualities of the potion starts to degrade and become useless five hours after taken off the flame… but if overcooked, it just becomes a poison.” Liliana gave a little shrug, “ironically the potion that causes the enslavement is more of a gel with a shelf life that hasn’t been fully measured.”

“Why did you come?” Harry wanted to leave, the burn of multiple eyes was starting to make his adrenaline run. But he needed to know, why did Liliana come for him? Why did she come to the Arcobaleno home? “… How did you…? Why is this…?” Harryh reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, to try and brush away the tenseness.

All he got was sticky smears of his own cold blood.

Liliana shifted so that she was more firmly facing Harry. The Weasley behind her followed along in facing Harry.

“Well… for how? We kind of… regularly track you. The Carcassa usually has some kind of device in your bike—that one is currently broken. Along with a tracker in your electrics. Such as phones. That’s how we normally know where you are…” Liliana looked away, her hands off the handles of the bike and drumming on her thighs. Looking anywhere but at Harry now.

She took a breath, “as for the tunnels going here…? I dunno about that. Great-Grandmum planned the whole system with the Goblins. This was just… the closest one to you. The tunnels are enchanted for faster travel. So…”

She took another fortifying breath and looked up again.

Finally locked eyes.

“… I prefer it, when you’re in full control of your own facilities. I don’t want anyone but you, controlling you. So let’s get your system flushed. Grandma also mentioned that it’s time to shove all of your memories back in to place.” Liliana gave a nod, turned and roared her bike to life.

Harry let out a slow breath, having been holding it throughout Liliana’s answer. He looked down to where his hands were clutching his handlebars. He loosened his fingers, and then turned the key.

The feeling of silent eyes on him didn’t leave until they came out of the tunnels and in to a parking garage. It was a very familiar place, but even then Harry couldn’t say one way or another if he had ever been here before. This aching feeling of familiarity-yet-not was starting to burn thickly in Harry’s chest, where he couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset, was starting to get annoying. Harry parked next to Liliana, and once their engines were turned off, silence rang in the garage. Harry sighed and learned forward until he could press his forehead against a handle bar.

The world was just…

… Harry was tired. He ached. He felt so stretched thin and weak.

“… Grandpa is waiting. And then Grandma Giglio should have set up by then.” Liliana’s voice was soft-loud, and Harry just nodded. After a moment, Harry shifted and slid off the bike and to his feet. He glanced down to his still bloody thigh.

… to vanish or not to vanish?

(The growing, spiteful little part of Harry wanted it to remain. Look at what Reborn had done! …. A larger, more mournful part of himself wanted it gone. Wanted to erase what he had done in return.)

Harry tapped his wand to the mess, and the blood was magic’d away.

… the guilt didn’t disappear with the blood.

Harry took off the gloves he had, and shoved them in to a pocket of his jeans. His hands were very much bare to the world now, but it was better than wearing one glove without a palm covering. “Let’s go.” Harry looked to Liliana, and she nodded and turned, and took point of their group. Harry looked to ‘Fab’, who was also looking at Harry. Specifically looking down from his superior height that the Weasley family tended to have.

“… ‘ello.”

“… Ciao.”

Harry nodded, and looked ahead to the back of Liliana’s head. There was truly nothing to say after that, so Harry let the silence thicken. The comforting shifts of Oodako against his stomach was soothing enough. But the movements were getting more agitated the longer they walked, so Harry unzipped his jacket, and Oodako flowed out to come to settle around Harry’s neck. Harry glanced down, and with his fingers he gently petted the top of the octopus’ head.

It was perhaps because the octopus was so different from an owl that Harry hadn’t rebelled at his very presence.

(He had never been able to use an owl again. Mailing letters was something he could always press other people to do. And a bit of charm work had mail that was meant for him to go to a certain location for pick up. Urgent matters were always sent over Patronus anyway…)

The garage was underground, but a quick bit of stairs and they were back under the night sky. Clouds were rolling in, and soon the stars would be blocked from view. Just a big blanket of black around the earth. Harry blinked up to the sky once, before he focused on the earth once more. He had better things to focus on than the sky, no matter how his eyes naturally sought the stars that he had spent years studying.

The walk back to the medical infirmary was swift. And Liliana and ‘Fab’ left him at the doors. Harry watched them walk away until they turned the corner of the hall. Harry stayed still for a little longer before he pushed the door and slipped inside.

There was Albus, hunched over the small desk and writing with a muggle pen. A dip pen, if Harry wasn’t mistaken. Better than a quill, but at the same time similar enough. Albus looked up at Harry’s approach, and he gave a tired smile.

“I’ve also got some scar reduction cream,” Albus added as he set his fancy pen in its designated holder. The old man creaked as he got his legs under himself. “If there is anything you don’t want to get permanently sweat stained, I suggest you take it off.” Harry nodded and turned to the bed that he had previously stayed a night in, and tossed his jacket there, as well as his old, folded jumpsuit that had still been tucked inside.

“… lovely. Thanks.”

“We have a three day regimen. A dosage every five hours. I’ll give you 15 dosages,” Albus was mostly talking to himself as he pulled on leather gloves—the scale pattern looked very much like a Ridgeback—and picked up a glass vial that was sitting in a glass stand.

The potion looked like water. It was clear.

“… what are the side effects?” Harry asked as he took a seat on the bed. Oodako dropped down on to Harry’s discarded jacket and wrapped himself up in the folds until Harry couldn’t even see a hint of red anymore.

“Discolored and staining sweat—it’ll be an unattractive orange.” Albus started, shifting over to stand before Harry. “Nausea. Feverish. Some have reported mild hallucinations.”

“That… sounds terrible.” Harry grimaced.

“It’s worth the end effects.” Albus gave a shrug and then uncorked the vial.

It smelled… like nothing.

Harry accepted the vial—it was still warm—and he downed the half mouthful of potion. Harry silently handed back the vial, and ran his tongue over his teeth. It felt like he hadn’t brushed his teeth in days, everything getting thickly fuzzy. But he wasn’t sure if that was the potion or the fact that he hadn’t been keeping up with dental health exactly.

Albus puttered around for a bit before coming back with a jar. Harry blinked.

“I used that one—it might have been expired.” Harry said, eyes tracing the jar. Albus stilled, and Harry looked up.

“… you used an expired medicine.” Well, that flat tone was familiar, but at the same time it had never been directly at Harry before. Once again, it was the return of that familiar-yet-not sensation.

“…. Yeah.” Harry admitted as Albus easily waited him out with the patience of a father long used to dealing with teenagers.

Albus let out a big sigh, “where is the container?”

“In the trunk… want me to get it?”

“… please.”

Harry paused before he stood. “Um.. how long before the effects of the potion come in to play?” Because the side effects did not sound fun, and traveling while they occurred was doubly not fun sounding.

“Is your stomach empty or full?” Albus asked as he shifted to sit down again.

“Um… not that empty?” Harry offered, and Albus cracked a smile and waved Harry along. Harry hopped forward and took off at a jog. The halls were empty, but it was also night time. The silencing spell on his boots was still in effect, and it was eerie running without the sound of thudding along.

It was why, when Harry drew up to a cracked door spilling light in to the dark of the hall… he slowed down. Paused, and then crept closer.

He trusted his family.

Truly, he did.

Harry peered inside, and spotted Liliana sitting before Lily and James in a cozy looking meeting room.

“—shot him. I mean, I remember great-grandmum talking about the Arcobaleno, but I never thought the stories of them being such dicks would be, well… so accurate.” Liliana grumbled before she blew against the steam of what Harry thought was coffee when he squinted. Harry could see her profile, with Fab leaning against the back of the couch behind her. Lily was in the small couch opposite. And James was in a chair, Harry could only see the back of his head.

“You saw him when he was with Fon, right?” Lily asked.

“Yeah—he seemed nice enough I suppose. Didn’t put hands on great-grandpa or anything.” Liliana said before she took a sip.

“His leg—was it alright?” Lily glanced to James, and then focused on Liliana once more.

“Yes. Although there was that byproduct. It looked like acid burned at his pants, and glove. I have a little deterioration on my jacket as well. Have we figured out why the deterioration effects only occur sometimes?” Liliana leaned forward and set her cup on the coffee table in front of herself. Well, Harry assumed it was a coffee table, considering that James’ head was a bit in the way.

James shook his head, “no… we could talk to dad about it tomorrow… since now he’ll be able to comprehend and work with us to find out the extent of the aberration.”

“Like how when he fell at his motor cross event…” Lily trailed off.

Liliana gave a full body shiver, “that was terrifying. I wish we had gotten our hands on that bike—someone obviously tampered with it.”

“The teams still haven’t located it?” James cocked his head to the side.

“No, all reports are negative. Even the specially trained niffler team hasn’t had any luck. At this point, it’s looking more like Arcobaleno work than the other Mafioso.” Liliana reached up and ruffled her hair in a familiar gesture. Harry realized it was familiar as soon as he reached up to ruffle his own.

“Wait, you think—?” Lily was frowning.

“No. The Arcobaleno aren’t interested in tampering with Skull’s bike. It’s just that there was no magic located on the scene outside of a few creatures. But they were interviewed and documented. The beast masters infiltrated most of the other Mafioso famiglia and have located nothing so far. I poked around at the Arcobaleno mansion to look for it—didn’t find it. But I didn’t really get a chance to explore.” Liliana drummed her fingers on her knees.

They really were talking about him. And surprisingly… it wasn’t causing a terrible feeling in Harry’s stomach. No, they were talking about his health. His care. And were going to talk to him about it tomorrow. They were probably very used to speaking about him like this, considering his years where he was technically incapacitated as a wizard…

That did raise the question of what happened to his wrecked bike, though.

But if the other Arcobaleno had it… did it really matter? He was here and now.

Liliana had gone in to the Arcobaleno house, though? Harry paused, and blithely remembered that he had left his motorcycle keys in his bowl. She must have grabbed them. Harry reached for his jacket pocket, and remembered that he had left his jacket with Albus. And Oodako. He should probably get going. Harry took a step back.

What he heard made him pause.

“Liliana, have you had any contact with Frank?” James’ voice was as clinically clear of emotion as possible. And it swiftly made Harry hesitate to leave.

“… why would you ask me that?” Harry could barely hear Liliana’s voice. Harry shifted and stepped forward again. Hovering close to the door to peer inside. Liliana had sunk low on the couch, arms firmly crossed over her chest.

“You know why. Tell us,” Lily’s voice was certainly harder.

Liliana’s face twisted, a hand raising up as if to grab on to her necklace, “no,” she bit out. Her voice deepening darkly as she lifted her lips to flash her teeth. “No, he hasn’t done a thing.”

“Good. You know the protocol.”

The protocol?

“… I do.”

What was this?

“Amazing. We wouldn’t want another slip up, after all. Thank you for your hard work, sweetie. Finish your drink before you go to bed. I’m going to go visit dad, now.” Lily smiled kindly at Liliana as she stood up. James nodded, raising a hand toward Lily in farewell. Liliana didn’t sit up, and merely squinted her eyes at the cup Harry couldn’t see from the crack in the door.

Lily was moving toward the door.

…. Harry could reveal himself. Demand what was going on. Harry shivered.

He would talk to Liliana, tomorrow.

He would… ask her if she had gone inside the mansion. And see if she would be truthful. And from there… maybe find out more about the current state of things.

(Do I really know my children?)

Harry hopped back and sprinted down the hall and out of sight. He arrived soon to his room, finding it exactly as he left it. Hovering in the doorway, however, Harry paused briefly before he pulled out his wand. Well, the Elder wand. A few spells found nothing dangerous. But Harry hadn’t set down detection wards before he had left, either.

He took a moment to set up those wards now. To make this a safe space. It took less than five minutes. He snatched up the still shrunken trunk and left.

Stepping in to the medical room again found Albus and Lily chatting side by side in matching chairs.

“Dad, what took you so long?” Albus asked, although he had yet to pull himself to his feet.

Harry gave a small shrug and looked down at his pants—and lied.

“I considered getting a change… but you mentioned staining sweat—so I just came back.” Harry juggled the trunk between his hands to hide the small shake he felt run thought his arms.

Albus gave a sympathetic nod. “I’m sure we can find some scrubs? Let’s see the scar reduction.” Albus gestured to the trunk before starting his slower process of standing up from his chair. Lily merely spread the blanket firmly over her legs and remained sitting.

“I’m glad you’re home, daddy.” Lily added.

Harry gave a smile—but he felt disconnected. Looking at Lily’s pleasantly smiling face… she seemed like a kindly old lady. But before, back at the tables outside… and even at that meeting room with Liliana—it struck Harry hard that his children really were Mafioso. More so than he could recall himself being as Skull. These were the people that… well…

Harry set the trunk on the ground and expanded it with a tap of his wand. It took but a moment before he had the jar in his hands and held it out to Albus. Albus pulled on some rubber examination gloves before he held out his hands.

Harry paused and didn’t hand the jar over.

“… why are you…?”

“… I have a suspicion, dad.” Albus admitted, and shuffled a little closer. Harry set the jar in to Albus’ waiting hands, and he watched his son open the jar and peer inside. It looked the same to Harry, the same as any old scar reduction cream. Albus didn’t allow for skin contact as he squinted, wafted and sniffed and held the jar up to the light. Eventually he brought the jar to the desk. Harry glanced once to Lily, but only got a shrug from her.

Harry peered over Albus shoulder and watched his son rub a paper along the inside of the jar, and then place it in an open vial on the desk. From there it was the slow shuffle to the cupboards before Albus came back with a clear jar of colorless liquid. He used a clear glass dropper with a white rubber end to add in some drops.

It only took a second before the paper inside turned the same bright orange that had marked up Harry’s face, hands, and stomach.

…. Face. Hands. Stomach.

Harry hadn’t touched his stomach with the scar reduction cream. But his face and hands…?

“… No.” Harry couldn’t help for that to come out as it finally clicked.

“… Yes.” Albus countered gently as he sealed the jar, and then the vial. He placed them in a glass box to the side and then expertly pulled his gloves off and dropped them in to a hazard bin. “An overdose has never been recorded, but dad… if you weren’t like you are, you probably would have overdosed yourself with that bit.”

Harry couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that he had dosed himself as well as what Frank had obviously done. Had rubbed it in to his own skin with his own hands. Slowly, Harry shifted and sat down on the bed. A second later and Oodako was attached to his neck and hanging down his front.

“It’s all good now, though. We have the counter potion. You’ll be right as rain soon.” Albus added, his hands up in a placating gesture and his voice still oh so soft. Harry took several deep breaths, and looked away from Lily as the realization fully sunk in to her then.

“I noticed that you had a lot of potions in there dad. Were there any you used besides that one?” Albus inquired.

…. Yes. There had been. “Pain potion. Nerve booster. Burn paste… Potter pupil restorer?” Harry hesitated to state that last one.

Albus looked alarmed, “your eyes…?”

“No, not me. Someone else…” Harry interrupted, and watched the alarm swiftly fade. Albus hesitated but nodded, and then gave a small smile. Harry stood with minimal shake and checked inside the trunk. The only jar he could find inside was the Potter Pupil Restorer, and Harry listened as he pulled that out and shrank the trunk once more.

“That was the last intensive potion I made before we realized the toll magic had on our bodies… I’m glad it helped someone. But, have you been monitoring them? The potion can have side effects…” Albus trailed off, and matched Harry’s grimace at Harry’s negative head shake.

“If you get the time, check their blood pressure, vision… if they haven’t equalized out yet and are still getting headaches…” Albus trailed as he shuffled along. And eventually produced another vial. He placed it in Harry’s hand with a smile. “I like to call this a brain booster—common side effect is too perfect vision in humans. And we aren’t made to handle so much details. It can cause migraines. This does a permanent brain change… to bring the brain up to speed with superior eyes. Although if they don’t need it, don’t give it to them.” Albus warned, patted Harry’s hand and eased back a little.

Harry offered the Potter Pupil Restorer and let Albus handle that. Harry nodded his mute agreement, and handed the vial off to Oodako, who dropped and moved to spread out over Harry’s jacket once more. Sliding the vial in to a pocket.

“Dad, would you be up to sorting your memories out now… or taking a rest?” Lily offered from her seat.

…perhaps…

“I think a bit of rest will do me good. I’ll be here for the next three days, won’t I?” Harry asked, looking to Albus.

“You can come and go—just need a dosage every five hours.” Albus reminded Harry as he pulled on a new set of gloves, and a jar from the cupboards was soon in his hands. Albus paused before he opened it and offered Harry to look inside. It was half used. “Scar reduction… the cream you put on was mixed with the dragon potion. Scar reduction cream doesn’t take well to being mixed with anything. It was more… ah, wet, than this.” Albus explained as he scooped a dollop on to his finger and rubbed the mixture. It was grainy. Harry remembered the other one being shiny and more gel like.

“… right…” Harry murmured, and didn’t resist as Albus placed the cream to his face. Albus reached around with his cream free hand and supported the back of Harry’s head before he started even circles of rubbing the reduction cream in to Harry’s face.

“… did you decide if you want the stones removed?” Albus asked, using conversation to ease away the quiet of the room.

“… we didn’t talk about it—but I’d like them gone…” Harry murmured.

A pause, and then Lily spoke up. “… we’d have to entreat some creatures for help, then.”

Harry reached out and paused Albus’ hand, and looked over his son’s shoulder to Lily. At the silent look, Lily spoke again. “… it took an astronomical amount of magic to get them in to you, dad. One of the casters died back then from magical pull. We don’t have nearly the strength for it now. Our best bet would be to go to the Goblins… but they’re not the most accepting when it comes to you.” Lily’s lips twisted down in a deep frown at the end, and Harry couldn’t help but respond in kind, but let Albus continue on.

“… can they be used against me?” Harry whispered.

“… Yes.” Albus answered back.

Then… Harry needed to figure out a way to remove them himself. Harry glanced up to Albus before he closed his eyes. He needed to do it himself, so as to not worry his children. They didn’t need that on their plates right now. Harry could talk to Liliana, he imagined that she would be able and willing to help. Or at least help him along.

She had stated it before—she preferred it when the only person controlling Harry was Harry.

The conversation died, and remained so as Albus spread the reduction cream over Harry’s face. With it evenly spread, Albus pulled back. Harry let out a sigh and laid back, letting his legs dangle off the side of the bed. Harry felt Oodako shift to sit on his stomach, but didn’t bother to open his eyes. Harry hadn’t realized how worn out he felt until—

Harry blinked and then squinted at the morning light. There was a hand on his shoulder. “Here dad, second dose.” A vial was pressed to Harry’s lips, and there was a hand under his neck to elevate his head. Harry opened his mouth, swallowed the potion, and closed his eyes again. He drifted off soon enough.

When Albus woke him up for the third dose… this time, Harry felt very much awake. He sat up and looked around. The infirmary was empty except for him and Albus. Harry downed the small bit of potion and handed the vial back. “I’m going to head out for a bit… be back in five hours?” Harry offered, pulling out his phone to check the battery and time. It was 10 in the morning, he would have to be back 15, then.

The phone had very low battery.

And roughly twenty missed calls.

“Yes… but before you go, dad, I…” Albus paused, took a deep breath and then let it out slow. Albus set the empty vial on the desk, pulled off the gloves, and then dug in to his pocket. “Open your hands…”

Harry shifted and cupped his hands together.

Numbly, Harry watched the resurrection stone drop in to his scarred palms.

“… where did you get this?” Harry whispered.

“Mum gave them to us. The stone. The wand… and the cloak. I was given the stone…” The middle child, the stone. Why did Ginny follow the story? How did she even know about the stone? Where had she even found it? He had never told her where he had left it. That he had ever hair it. He had never…

Harry lifted his eyes from the stone, and stared at his son. “Why… do you have it?”

“… I think it’s because mum knew I’d never try to use it. All of your hollows—they don’t work. Not for any of us.” Albus offered, and Harry noticed that his wrinkles were particularly deep today as they pulled around his eyes.

“Where are the others?” The question pulled out of Harry before he could think otherwise.

“James had the wand… before Longbottom stole it.” Albus glanced to where Harry kept the wand, where it was poking out of his sleeve. “Lily has the cloak.” All of the Potter children had held a hollow.

“But wait… Frank—he is young. Isn’t he a…?”

“Mud? No, a Squib. One of the lucky few for his age.”

“Why the wand…? Why can he use magic now?”

“He is burning the souls and lives of creatures to fuel it. Normal muggles still can’t use such a thing—but those of us who are still witches and wizards and squibs… we can still burn others for our greed.” Albus spoke softly, reaching out and letting his fingers run over the sheet of the bed, straightening it out more as a fidget than as actual work.

Harry clutched the stone in one hand, hiding it in a fist. He didn’t look up, “why are you giving me this?”

“Dad… magic is dead. And no one knows why, not really. We have theories upon theories, but it doesn’t change the fact that magic is dead… Except for you.”  Harry didn’t look up, not even when Albus’s chilled fingers reached out and cupped the side of Harry’s face. A little bit of pressure, and Albus waited.

Harry looked up.

“It seems right to me—and perhaps you can find some use for it?” Albus smiled, thin lips going even paler with the pull of emotion.

“… do you think it’s dead or dying, Albus?” Harry asked.

“It’s like a white rhino. Still technically there, but everyone knows there is no future in sight unless drastic measures are taken.” Albus offered, finding an appropriate metaphor to express himself.

“… is it worth saving?” Harry asked. “If someone found a drastic measure, do you think it’d be worth it?”

“I think… everything has a time, dad.” Albus offered, using both hands to cup Harry’s face when Harry shifted to look away.

“… what about me? When was my time?” It slipped out before Harry could stop it. Something about this situation was wrong. And it was easy for Harry to pinpoint exactly what it was. Harry was Albus’s father. But here they were, an old man and a young man. With the son stopping his father from looking away… and the father looking to the son for his answers. It was all so wrong.

Albus hummed, “well, perhaps it’s not so set in the past? Perhaps your time is now? I think mum would enjoy knowing you’ve made the best of it.” Albus’s wrinkles seemed to lessen, and he leaned in closer.

“… what should I do?” Harry whispered.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Albus smiled, old and wise like his namesake. “You have time. Me, on the other hand… I’m running out. I can feel it. So, dad… please accept this stone and my burden.”

Harry’s arms came up without thought, reaching out and wrapping gently around Albus’ middle and pulling his son in to a firm hug. Harry closed his eyes and breathed. Albus smelled like medicine and hospitals. He was so thin but so big. Harry gave a little squeeze, and imagined himself an old man, holding on to his young son and reveling in old age as he had always planned to.

Harry felt when Albus’ arms came up and wrapped around his shoulders.

“I love you.” Harry choked.

Albus squeezed Harry’s shoulders. “I’ve loved you. Every day.” Albus murmured in return.

Albus leaned back, and Harry let him go. Harry’s nose felt clogged, and his eyes felt tight as he lifted his face and looked up to his son. Albus smiled, leaned down and pressed his dry lips to Harry’s forehead.

“I missed everything.” Harry whispered.

“A lot—but not everything, dad.” Albus offered as he shifted over and sat next to Harry on the bed. He reached out, and Harry took the offered hand with his own empty one. Harry made sure to be gentle with how he held on. Even Albus’ skin felt thin. His bones felt delicate. Albus was like a small bird, feeling light as air with the knowledge that too much pressure would crush him.

“I didn’t get to see you grow old…” The sting of tears burned. “I missed everyone growing old. I’ve been…” I’ve been left behind.

The tears were dripping down, leaving burning trails over his face.

“But didn’t you?” Albus asked, his other hand reaching over and patting the top of Harry’s hand. “You’ve been with us for years… not as you are. But in some form. You’ve watched us age. We’ve had birthday parties together. Not as father and son… but as members of the Carcassa. You’ve been our protector, and we’ve protected you in kind.”

“… I wasn’t there to protect everyone… Teddy…” It still hurt. The files.

Albus’ hand within Harry’s own flexed, relaxed, and then gripped back.

“… He made his choice, dad. He remained behind… we lost him to the unspeakables, as well as his whole squad.” Albus’ voice was soft.

“… His squad?” Harry looked up from the floor and to Albus.

“… Yes. Not all of them were killed, not all were replaced… many were memory charmed and altered if it was compatible. And then there are the dragons…” Albus trailed off in to silence.

“… they have dragons?” Harry asked.

“Dragons? Ah, no. Not as you think. No, the dragon tamers can’t contain them. We have squads of actual dragons under the dragon potion. But most of them have run wild in Russia and China, now. Their intelligence has jumped astronomically, so there haven’t been any problems on that end…” Albus went clearly off tangent, and Harry wondered if his children realized how much they sounded like the International Confederation of Wizards.

So knowledgeable, controlling, and restrictive.

“Albus—if we’re not talking about the beasts… what do you mean when you say ‘dragons’?” Harry’s stomach squeezed.

“… Well, the research on the squibs and muds after magic began to fail… It didn’t produce the results that they wanted. But there were some results. We didn’t realize what was happening… Scorpius was investigating… when he disappeared. They were trying to find a way to combine the souls of beasts with a wizard so as to not burn our own lifespans. The results were…. Horrific.” Albus’s voice started strong, but slowly weakened and became faint near the end. Harry remembered Scorpius.

“… Scorpius was a nice boy.” Harry offered.

“He was a good man… a young man.” It didn’t need to be stated that Scorpius hadn’t gotten much older than that, than being a ‘young man’.  

“They’ve created new creatures—we’ve called them dragons. But they’re more like chimeras.” Albus offered, and then grimaced, “well, ‘chimera’ is a more appropriate name, considered that they are indeed omens for disasters. The way they’ve been enchanted… They’ve all been soaked in the dragon potion—we’ve coded them as ‘dragons’ because of their tendency to be enchanted to produce a flame similar to fiendfyre.”

“So you mean to say… Scorpius was…?” Harry trailed.

“I’ve seen him—the dragon with his face…. And I don’t have the strength to put him to rest.” Albus confessed as his eyes dipped to their hands. “… I want to lay him in a grave, and let him have his peace. But I… I waited too long. I always meant to wrangle myself together and use what magic I could to put him down… but… but…”

But he hadn’t been able to do it.

“But I was too weak. And now I’m too old.” Albus’ twisted bitterly and let out a sigh.

“You’re not weak, Albus.” Harry reached out and wrapped his arms around Albus’ shoulders and held on to his son. Albus shifted, and curled in to Harry and let his father hold him. Harry was glad to take the weight.

“… I accept.” Harry murmured in to Albus’ thin hair. He accepted the stone… and Scorpius.

“I’m sorry.” Albus whispered.

“I’m not.” Harry tipped his head back and closed his eyes—and held on tighter to Albus.

After all, Harry had spent most of his life saving people. What was one more, in the long run?

(It’s always one more. One more person. One more life. One more… and more… and more…)

They stayed there, together, until it was time for Harry’s next dose. After the potion, Harry kissed Albus’s forehead and bid his son to rest. Albus agreed, and they parted. “Be back by 20, okay?” Harry agreed, accepted a bit of tissues and left with Oodako.

Harry carried his jumpsuit and jacket to his room. Harry dropped his jacket on the bed, set Oodako in his aquarium, and focused on the jumpsuit. The fruit of his labor. Harry let his fingers run over the burned shoulder, recalling the hard burn that was there.

…. Wait.

Harry set the suit down and tugged off his own shirt to look at the shoulder that had been burned. Harry poked the flesh there—it didn’t scar. Sure, Harry had other scars, but there was no burn scar. No pull of tissue. Harry frowned at his shoulder and then looked back to his suit.

Well, he’d give this to Liliana, then. Harry shifted through his zippered pockets and any other crevices he could find. Two bullet shells, a few coins, an old gum wrapper and—

Harry hissed and pulled his hand out of his pocket.

Right—the third prophecy. The one that he had put in his pocket. The one that had shattered. Harry checked his fingertips. There were three dots of blood that he wiped away. No cuts. Harry took a deep breath and let it out, then shivered.

Harry used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and wrinkled his nose at the orange tint of his skin.

Harry left the suit on the bed and took a long shower. He let his mind go static and just let the hot water sooth him. All too soon, his skin wrinkled up like unappetizing prunes. He turned the still hot water off and focused on his clean up. Harry left his dirty clothes in the bathroom, and dug around the dresser until he found a ratty shirt and jeans that had obviously been worn to the point of near decay. It would be fine to trash them afterward. (Because looking at the shirt he had already pulled off, there were smears of orange at the armpits and along the small of the back.) As it was, shortly after pulling on the new clothes Harry felt the sweat pooling in the small of his back, and sticking his dark shirt to his skin.

A glance to the clock on the wall showed he still had several hours.

Harry ran his fingers over his face with a frown. The scars didn’t appear to be diminished in any way, despite the application of scar reduction. Was there a time limit of having a scar where it would no longer work? Not only that… but were the stones forcing them there? They were made with magic—would it be like his lightning?

Harry groaned and dropped face first on the bed next to his jumpsuit. He wasn’t vain! He just…

He just… wanted to be Harry. Just Harry.

Not Skull.

Not the boy-who-lived.

Not the man with the Glasgow grin.

Harry’s phone vibrated angrily, clattering loudly on the bedside table. Harry lifted his head and blinked at it. Who would be calling him? He had just seen Albus and it wasn’t time for the next dose.

Maybe… Liliana.

Harry raised a hand, paused, and then stood up. He’d rather not be lazy. He swiftly shuffled to the phone and snatched it up. His eyes ran over the number, paused, and then he did it again. Let his eyes slowly take in the number that blazed across his screen. Harry stayed still and let it ring out.

The screen was dark for only a moment.

And then it flashed again.

And again.

And again.

Harry stared at the screen and watched the continual calls from multiple numbers. He only recognized a handful of them. And the familiar ones popped up the most. Harry slowly moved and sat down on the bed.

… what the fuck did they think they were doing?

What were they thinking they’d accomplish?

When Colonnello’s number popped up, though… Albus’s words flashed to the forefront of his mind (quicker than it would have weeks ago) and Harry selected the ‘accept call’ button without thinking it through. And once he did it, Harry froze. He started at the screen with the accepted call button.

Slowly, Harry brought the phone up to his ear.

“…. So. Have you had any headaches?” Harry popped the question, because he was already this far.

“… What. The. Fuck.” Colonnello hissed.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath and let it out. “… Headaches? Migraines?”

“I can’t even…” An explosive sigh. “How’s the leg?”

“… fine.” Well, this was going to be pleasant. Cue sarcasm.

“You’re at the Carcassa base, right?”

“… No.”

“I’m outside.”

Harry reached up and rubbed his face, “…. Bullshit. I’m hallucinating. This isn’t happening.”

“Why do you think you’re hallucinating?” Colonnello asked, his voice creeping out of the phone in a higher tone. Panicked. Agitated but weary.

Harry blinked his eyes up at the ceiling. He popped to his feet and took his wand in to hand. “You’re a hallucination, figure it out.”

“I’m not a hallucination!” Colonnello yelled. Harry took the phone away with a grimace before he put it back.

“You might as well be! If you’re not having headaches, then GOOD-B—“

“Wait, wait, wait! Migraines! Yes. Me. Don’t go.”

“… you’re lying.” Harry hissed.

“I’m not. I’m not. Don’t hang up.”

“What do you want Colonnello? I cut my ties. I’m not an Arcobaleno.” Harry murmured as he looked around for any slip on shoes and came up with nothing. So he sat down and spelled his boots on.

“… wishful thinking doesn’t make you not an Arcobaleno.” Colonnello said. That was familiar. Harry had heard that sentence before. Perhaps not said in the exact same way, or with the same tone, but the phrasing was familiar. It ached in his bones.

Harry tapped his toes once he was on his feet to settle his shoes, and he strode from his room. “It does now.”

Harry heard the sigh that Colonnello let out. “You’re being such a pain!”

“Because I’m not rolling over and letting you bully me?” Harry flinched at the bitter hiss that came out as. That had been his voice, but the sheer presence of barely repressed rage was shocking even to him.

The silence didn’t stay. “Skull…”

“That’s not me.”

“… what happened to you?”

“Nothing!” Harry didn’t want to yell, but he did. He stopped at the entrance of the home of the Carcassa founders, and yelled at the phone in his hand. “Nothing happened to me!” Which was true yet not true. Everything had happened, but with the absence of the memories it didn’t feel like much at all. Being told what happened, reading about it, it was not the same as having lived it.

No, Harry was as he was. At the core of himself, had he even changed the slightest?

“It did! Whatever those bastards did!” Colonnello yelled back.

“I happened to me.” Harry cut in sharply.

“… what?”

“I happened. Me. The person I was before I was Skull. I’m alive. I was first. The life of Skull does not get to dictate my life! He’s dead! He’s dead and you have to accept it!”

“Skull—wait—“

Harry hadn’t realized this had been eating him up inside. It spontaneously came forth, and like much of his life he kept with it. He needed to get this out. He needed to end this Arcobaleno nonsense. “I am my own master, and I bow to no organization!”

Colonnello was not like Reborn. No, he didn’t lay in wait to counter Harry’s words when given the chance with a superior argument. No, Colonnello yelled right back and did his damn best to yell over Harry.

Too bad Harry yelled right back. He stopped listening and yelled louder as he marched toward the gate.

“I don’t care! I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care! I am not Arcobaleno. I am not Mafioso! I am a police man! I have a wife and children! I have a family, and I don’t need some half baked organization trampling over my life and thinking they can control me!”

“Skull, we’re not—“

“No one but me decides what I do!”

“S-skull…”

“And you! You!” Harry snarled, “you abusive bastard! Some senpai you turned out to be! You…. You are not at the gate.” Harry blinked as he came to a stop in front of the gates of the Carcassa compound. The rage fled like a cold splash of water to the face and Harry was left blinking at the gate, glancing to the lookout, and then back to the gate.

“… Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re fucking not. I’m at the gates now.” Harry hissed.

“… You’re fucking kidding me. No. We’ve tailed you to this compound before!” Harry could swear he was hearing murmuring of other talking voices on the other line.

Harry moved away from the gate. Toward the woods. Toward the grove of trees.

Harry heard voices, faint, and pressed the phone more firmly to his ear. “—can’t track the signal—“ mixed with, “—the compound is empty—“ and Harry felt like destroying the cell phone in his grip.

“… You don’t really have any migraines, do you?” Harry murmured, seconds away from hysteria. The Acrobaleno hadn’t given up, have they? They were gathered as a group, Harry could hear it.

… they never listened to Skull. Why would they listen to Harry?

“… I do.” Colonello murmured back. Harry couldn’t tell if it was a lie.

“.. I’m just hallucinating this…” Harry glanced up the trees as he walked further in.

“You’re not! Skull—!”

“Harry! My name is Harry Potter and I exist!”

“… but do you really? We found the board. In your room. Are you sure you didn’t just make that name up? Did they torture you? Break you? I mean, we all know you’re the weakest—“

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and hung up. And then turned the phone off.

“… You’re such a dick, Colonnello.” Harry sighed. And shoved the phone in to his pocket. “Goodbye. Fuck off.” Harry grumbled to himself as he hurried along. He found the gazebo, and dropped down on to a still useable bench. Harry closed his eyes and let himself relax.

He really was so twisted up about Skull, wasn’t he? Harry opened his eyes and stared up at the battered roof of the gazebo. Harry had a feeling that the twisted up feeling would never really go away. Perhaps Harry should hold a funeral and let the ghost of Skull take a final rest. That man had lived long enough, hadn’t he? Didn’t Harry get a chance?

Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes.

Breath in… breath out…

Harry counted his breaths, and once he got to 20 exhales he opened his eyes and stood up.

Something warm in his hand.

Harry pulled his hands out of his pockets and glanced in to his right hand. Harry opened his fingers and found the resurrection stone.

“Now… how did you get there…” Harry murmured to himself. He leveled both hands and passed the stone back and forth between his hands at a bit of a toss. Harry had never planned to hold the stone again, not since he had dropped it in the Forbidden forest. Not since he saw his parents and said his goodbyes.

But there were questions… questions that the dead could answer.

Even with that, Harry still had his doubts about the stone. Doubts he had never voiced, and only years of living had brought them up. But his doubts had always centered on the words of his family. Not their visage, but the words that they had said.

And the story… had bringing them back to this earth made them suffer, even for the short time?

… but questions. Questions that need answers. So many questions—so many dead to summon.

But should he?

Harry turned the stone over in his fingers.

If he was going to do it… who would he summon?

… just… who…? Someone important. Someone that would have answers about the thick of things. Someone that… Someone that Harry knew would give him the answers that he craved. Perhaps not questions about Frank, or about magic. But the root of this problem. What started it all.

A beast in a checker patterned mask.

The stone burned cold.

Who would know anything about that?

Harry turned the stone over in his fingers—and felt that lurch of OTHER. That gasp of absence.

“Potter.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered open to the voice that resonated through his bones. This was a voice that he should not have forgotten, but it had faded in his memories as time had trudged along until all that was left was white noise. Until that voice sounded again. It struck Harry how much that voice sounded like… home.

It was a voice that was second to his own.

A voice that had stayed with him most of his life. Through his formative years.

The man whose existence bruised Harry’s own. Scarred it.

“Tom,” Harry echoed back.

Tom Riddle stood before Harry with a familiar face—the Tom Riddle of the Diary. Shorter than Harry was now. It was eerie, seeing someone that had been as large as a Basilisk brought down to human height. Harry reached out and ran a thumb over Tom’s cheek, and felt the press of cold flesh.

Fitting. Tom Riddle was the type of person to run cold despite the false flush of life to his cheeks.

Harry watched the corners of Tom’s mouth pull in to something that wasn’t quite a frown, nor a grimace of distaste. Harry waited for a rant or a rebuke, for anything that he had and would have assumed that Tom Riddle would have indulged in. But all he got was eerie silence.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” Harry asked, head tilting to the side, as if by changing his own orientation to the world he could right this slightly off feeling of unmet expectations.

Tom Riddle shifted his head to match, eyes looking beyond Harry with a derisive snort. “I have nothing I would want to say to you. My killer.”

Perhaps if Harry didn’t have so much of Skull in his head, if he hadn’t been the one to burn London, he might have denied that. Might have denied the idea and rebuked with the idea that it was less murder and more like putting down a rabid dog. But it was just semantics, in the end. And in truth, Harry was a killer.

(A firmer, deeper, nameless part of Harry whispered ‘better them than me’…)

“… but you respond when I ask questions. I can touch you.” Harry reached out again, his hand reaching out and pushing on Tom’s shoulder with enough force to send the teen back a step. Tom Riddle’s not-quite frown deepened.

“Yes,” Tom Riddle bit out, eyes focused on Harry now.

Harry stared at the youthful face before him, looking for the familiar signs. Ah, there it was. That maddening rage. Tom really could feel—even if he was unable to feel like a normal person. Even if it had been a long time coming, fighting through a deathly calm.

“Perhaps you’ll be delighted to know that in the end, I didn’t save the Wizarding world. No—magic is dead now. At least for wizards.” Harry quirked an almost-grin, watching Tom’s face (with probably more glee than he should have) as the teen’s eyes widened and Tom’s face went in to expressive slackness. A psychopathic slackness, the kind that Skull had seen more often than not within the mafia. Tom Riddle obviously did not know how to respond to that, and Harry dearly wished that this was not a shade, but the actual soul of Tom Riddle.

(Some too bitter part of Harry wanted Tom Riddle to suffer a horror similar to what Harry had suffered within the shadow of Voldemort.)

… it would be gratifying to know that wherever Tom Riddle went in his afterlife existence… that he knew magic was dead. That everything Tom had ever done—all of his great deeds—was dead as well. The history of Voldemort would die with the Wizarding world. “That’s the problem with secret societies. They’re all bound to eventually fail. Fail, and return to dust,” Harry mused as he shoved his hands in to the pockets of his ratty jeans.

“But I have something to ask you. Did… a man in a checkered mask… ever approach you?” Voldemort was the last person he wished to talk to, but even then this Tom was almost pleasant to deal with. He was familiar in a way that most things were not.

(Because all that Harry was familiar with was dead.)

“… a creature did appear before me, when I was young and gathering power.” Tom Riddle murmured after a time, shifting and moving to circle around Harry.

Tom Riddle did not leave footprints. Nor a shadow.

Harry shifted and copied the shade of a once great man.

“It desired things that ran counter to my grand design.” Tom concluded diplomatically, the corners of his eyes tight and his vision ever fixed on Harry. Harry responded in kind. Could only respond in kind, as he had always done.

“What did he want?” Harry liked to think he requested that, but it was more of a demand than an option.

Tom stilled, and Harry mimicked him, coming to his own stop.

“… My ultimate mission… was to create a world for the worthy. A world where the strong led the weak. All that was magic would remain magic. I could have brought all of wizard kind to such heights…” Tom Riddle sighed, aging minutely before Harry’s eyes until the shade was less teen and more young man. His cheeks were suddenly sharper and less plump, more hollow. But his eyes were filled with the same intensity. Perhaps even more manic now because of it.

“And you took that away!” Tom hissed.

Harry snorted, “if you think that, as you were, you could have ushered in another golden era of wizard kind—then you’ve definitely brought your insanity with you to the other side.”

Tom gave a helpless shrug paired with a charismatic smile.

“So, what did checker face want?” Harry stepped in closer, watching the minute shifts in Tom’s expressions as the man—now of the same height—scrambled for an appropriate facial expression to match the topic and his own thoughts.

“Ah, that…” Tom hummed, delaying briefly as he rolled his shoulders and settled on a face that was somewhere between contrite and righteous. “It promised power, unbelievable power that the world had seen perhaps once or twice before—all in exchange for the future.”

Great, now Voldemort was speaking in riddles.

Harry tapped his toes to the ground in agitation before he ground out the question, “what future?”

Voldemort chuckled, face coy with lowered eyes, curled lips, and arms folded behind his back as he continued on his circle. Harry moved to match the man, and together they walked in a circle on opposite sides. Their eyes locked, and neither unwilling now to break this standoff that they had inevitably fallen in to. This mimic of their life brought to flesh for all the world to see.

“The future, Harry Potter. Come now—how much life have you managed to claw from this world and yet still unable to solve a bit of simple word play?” The coy look remained, paired with a winning and too human smile pasted on Voldemort’s face. Voldemort was handsome in the way that someone of his breeding should have never been allowed to be. Cosmic chance and stardust had led to the recipe that was Voldemort.

“I’m on a bit of a schedule. Tell me,” Harry deepened his voice with order and watched Tom shudder.

“Children, my boy. Children. The future. That thing requested genocide for power… perhaps if that thing had approached me at another time, I might have agreed. But at that one moment in time, I decided that such a thing was not part of my intention for Wizard kind.” Tom’s words were crisp, and as cold as that initial touch. “I rejected the proposition, and never saw the creature again.”

“… and in the end, you performed to his desires anyway.” Harry concluded.

“… in the end, yes.” Tom Riddle sighed, his eyes briefly closing to follow the rest of his face in something that was almost like sorrow.

“Did you ever ask why?” That was the golden question, in the end. Why did Checkface want wizards dead?

“My business with it was brief—what need would I have for the reason for its desires?” The golden question, never to be answered by anyone but Harry it seemed. It was like the Philosopher’s stone all over again. Unhelpful teachers and ultimately running headlong in to danger himself with perhaps a fifty-fifty chance of dying along the way.

“Terrible—but great,” Harry snorted as he looked away, twisting the stone in his hand.

Harry looked back, and the shade was gone.

“I’ll get my answers once I sort out this wizarding mess—Checkface will get what he wants, in the end… and one day I can ask why.” But not today, and perhaps not any time soon.

But eventually.

Harry normally got his answers, eventually.

And with the stone in hand, Harry looked ahead where Voldemort’s existence had last stood upon this earth. There were infinitely better people that Harry could have summoned back from the end. And one named burned on his tongue.

… but Harry refused to utter that name.

As much as he desired to see her—Harry remembered the story of the three brothers too well. Harry didn’t care if Voldemort suffered a little pain by being brought back to the world as a powerless echo of what he once was. But to do that to Ginny?

No.

Ginny could wait for him… just a little bit longer. Until the divide of death no longer separated them.

Harry dropped the stone in to his ratty pocket.

He was on a bit of a schedule.

He needed to speak to Liliana. Finish the potion regime. Clear his system. Accept Albus’ burden.

Frank’s face came to mind. Angry. His words echoed, ‘I didn’t ask you to burn us!’

Well, Frank didn’t ask… no one ever asked for a burning. That’s why the witch hunts didn’t go over so well. It seemed that in his absence the wizarding world had reached an irredeemable level of self-serving obsession.

Everything has a time—and it was time that the wizarding world ended. Ended, and moved on.

“Point me, Liliana.”

The wand spun, paused, and pointed to where Harry wanted to go.

It was more of a walk than expected, finding the garage again. Harry found Liliana sitting on the ground next to her bike surrounded by tools with ‘Fab’ sitting to the side with a book in hand. They both looked up to Harry at the same time. Harry wasn’t wearing the boots of yesterday, and these ones clopped noisily on cement.

“Liliana… I’d like a word, if you don’t mind.” Harry quirked a smile, but he knew it fell flat from the frown that appeared on Liliana’s face. She gave a short nod and came to her feet, briefly cleaning her hands on a rag before stepping over to Harry.

Harry glanced to Fab, and then back to Liliana. “… in private?”

“Fabian is my caporegime… my right hand man. All that I say and do, I can do before him.” Liliana really was a leader, and Harry could feel it resonate in his bones. He shivered.

A test of truthfulness…

“Did you go in to the Arcobaleno mansion last night?” Harry asked.

Liliana nodded.

“Why?”

“Mostly to look for you. And a bit of checking out the competition… and a bit of looking for answers, too. Picked up your keys that way, lucky that I did wasn’t it?” Liliana grinned, but it faded off to her more normal, solemn look.

Truthfulness confirmed. Harry nodded as he glanced to Fabian once more. Fabian looked calm and undisturbed, but if Liliana called this man her ‘right hand man’, then there had to be something considerable about him.

“What’s your connection to Frank Longbottom?” Harry asked.

Liliana flinched, taking several steps back. Her hands clenched in to fists. “… Why… would you ask me this?”

“I eavesdropped, on your conversation last night…. With Lily and James.” Harry confessed. Shameless in the hunt to get his answers. He was old, what need did he have for shame?

“… that’s a bad habit you have there.” Liliana murmured. Voice low, and vaguely wounded.

“… It is.” But he wasn’t sorry. “Tell me who Frank Longbottom is to you.” Harry pressed again.

Liliana raised her hands and rubbed her face. She moved, shifting to start pacing in circles. Fabian had stood as well, hands at his side and ready as he stood next to the bikes. The silence stretched.

“… When did Frank turn against us…?” Harry asked instead. Delaying but not taking back his first question with a new one. Sometimes all one needed with an interrogation was a lead in question. If they answered one question, more were sure to be answered soon.

“… he officially turned from us… two years ago.” Liliana murmured, eyes lowered once she lowered her hands. She crossed her arms over her chest and continued pacing back and forth.

Two years? That was so recent…

“He stole the Elder wand… how did he manage that?”

“… he was trusted.” Liliana bit out.

“… the Longbottom line have not married in… how did they get so trusted?” Harry successfully resisted the urge to pace around her. No, he was not Voldemort and Liliana was not an enemy. Harry looked to the side, shifted, and moved along to his bike, which was still next to the one that Liliana had been providing maintenance on. Harry threw a leg over and sat astride his bike.

Liliana stared for a moment before she walked over and sat upon her bike as well.

“… I have to know, Liliana. He started this. I need to know him as much as I can. Frank Longbottom started this—and I am going to finish it—“ Harry started, but Liliana cut him off.

“You can’t!” Liliana bit off, and then froze in place.

“…. I can’t?” Harry whispered, and ignored the way Fabian was shifting side to side.

“… I’d rather you didn’t.” Liliana murmured, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against her handlebars. Harry decided to use Reborn’s tactic of silence and waited for more information.

It came, in broken bits. “It’s just… that I… Frank…” Liliana tried, stopped, restarted, and eventually ran her fingers through her short hair in frustration. She stomped one foot on the ground and gripped the handlebars hard in her hands.

“Frank was the storm.” Fabian spoke in soft Italian.

Harry didn’t remove his eyes from Liliana’s hunched form.

“… I welcomed him. He was beautiful.” Liliana whispered, closing her eyes and her face. Doing her best to wipe the grief from her features. “… we were going to get married.”

Frank had certainly been trusted. Harry could see how the man had gotten his hand on the wand. And probably much of everything. Harry was just going to have to assume that everything he knew, Frank knew as well. It was better to assume too much rather than too little.

“Harry… I think this is all my fault.” Liliana eventually whispered in to the silence of the parking garage.

“… why would you think that?”

“… Frank.. he… he started to change—we… we got really drunk one night. And I don’t… I don’t remember what I said, but…” Liliana’s voice was thick, and trembled.

“… Liliana spoke about how much she wished magic was still thriving. She swore she’d be an amazing witch. More amazing than you.” Fabian answered, moving to stand at the front of their bikes. Taking the eyes of both of them on his form.

Harry focused on Fabian. “… and Frank started to act strangely after that?”

“Yes… he read a lot. He took many trips off the compound. Spent less time with Liliana. It was disgraceful, an element ignoring his sky. Started rumors, that did.” Fabian’s lips twisted down in such a frown that was more akin to McGonagall than any Weasley that Harry had ever met.

“Fab…” Liliana sighed, weary from a conversation long repeated.

“… you’ve bonded, then?” Harry asked, mind clawing for the information behind bonding, flames, and elements—and coming up relatively blank outside of a blanket response of want aching in his chest.

“Yes… We’re still… connected. The distance hurts.” Liliana quietly admitted.

“… would it hurt him as well?” Harry asked.

“Yes. Him more so than me…”

“Then what he is doing is giving him the strength of will to endure.” Harry added, eyes on Liliana once more. “Any thoughts on what he wants? Since I was obviously part of the plan.” Harry gestured to his body as he spoke.

“… I think he wants to bring magic back.” Liliana murmured.

“It seems the most logical conclusion.” Fabrian softly agreed.

“… the question is now, why would he resurrect me to do such a thing?” Harry murmured, and got no response for it. And in the silence, Harry spoke again, “… if he came to you now, would you accept him back?”

“… no,” Liliana hissed. Her fingers on the handlebars were bone white. “Never.” Liliana took a calming breath. “Family, always.” She murmured with a reverence that Harry had seldom heard within his life.

“Always…?” Harry asked.

Liliana looked over, “.. great grandmum.. your wife—started the motto. It’s the Carcassa law, now. The first one.” Liliana’s face was dry, but a bit of red was creeping in to the corners of her eyes. She looked pinched. And her eyes shined.

“Ah… It’s better than the motto that haunts the Potter line… Gin and I were never really happy with it.” Harry admitted.

“… what was it?” Liliana asked, looking for the distraction from the clusterfuck of their lives.

“… The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.” Harry answered, “rather dramatic.”

“Very dramatic. It suits you.” Liliana managed a semblance of a smile.

“Hey—that was a joke, right?”

Liliana chuckled, and relaxed. Harry smiled and reached out, ruffling her hair until she swatted his hand away. Their eyes locked.

“You do realize that Frank can’t be left alone to do as he pleases.”

“… Yes, I know.”

“I’m going to finish this.”

“… I know…”

“Finish it with me.” Harry insisted. Liliana’s eyes flickered away.

“You don’t mean it—you wouldn’t trust me.” Liliana crossed her arms over her chest, pulling in defensively. As if preparing herself for some physical blow.

More like a verbal one, “I trust you.” Harry murmured. And got her to look to him once more. “We’re not the type of person to let things like that go.” Harry had still struggled with resentment with Ron for a time after the final battle of Hogwarts. It had been slow to resurface, and it had taken more long talks than Harry would ever admit to… but if Ron had sold them out, Harry would have never forgiven him.

Frank had sold Harry out. And if Harry was right about Liliana, then she wouldn’t forgive him either. Because he had turned from her already.

“I’m going to Lily now. I’m going to sort out my memories… and then we can all sit down together and decide our plan of action… get our best foot forward.” Harry shifted and stood up off of his bike.

Liliana nodded, paused, and then spoke, “did you get your suit?”

“Yeah. It’s on my bed.” Harry confirmed.

“… what’s your verdict, then…?” Liliana asked.

Harry smiled, “I’ll stay with you.”

“… no more Arcobaleno?” She asked.

“No. No more of them.” Harry agreed, feeling a little queasy at the thought, but pushing through it all the same. It had been a long time coming from Harry as he was. And from what memories Harry had from Skull… it had been a long time coming.

Liliana nodded, “I’ll see you for evening tea.”

Harry waved as he strolled out of the parking garage. He turned on his phone and ignored the missed calls flooding his inbox. He still had a little bit of time before the next dosage of the potion. So Harry made his way back to his room checked on Oodako, and looked to the glass shards still on his jumpsuit.

“… Reparo.” Harry tapped the shards. It shivered—and a half formed orb melded in to existence. Harry carefully picked it up and inspected it.

There, minuscule, was a name inscribed. Only found from running the pad of a finger over the embossed name. ‘SELENE LOVEGOOD’. Harry blinked and set it down on his bedside table. He set his phone down after placing it on silent. The vibrating was a bit much.

“Point me, Lily Luna Potter.”

He had waited long enough.