Nearly

He’s standing on the shore of the Black Lake, shivering in the cold breeze as he stares out across the blanket of thick mist covering its surface. Suddenly the figure of a man emerges from the depths and as he turns around, Harry can see a pair of scarlet eyes burning in his snake-like face and his heart skips a beat… no… not you… not again…

He tries to back away, to turn around and run — but he can’t move at all. Something is holding him in place, restraining him. He looks down in panic and sees coils of thick rope around his body. Thrashing wildly, he tries to break free of them, but the more he pulls the tighter the ropes coil around him. 

The crack of Apparition can be heard in the near distance and he whips his head around to look in the direction of the sound. Desperate hope wells up inside him… please let it be my dads… or Dumbledore, or anyone…

But soon more cracks are punctuating the silence and hooded figures approach him slowly through the mist. As they get close enough that Harry can see their masked faces, his hope sinks like boulder from his chest and lands heavily in his gut, so heavily it seems to pull his entire body down and he hangs limply from the ropes, like some abandoned puppet… it’s over, he thinks numbly… it’s all over… I’m dead… I’ll never see my dads or Draco again… 

As the Death Eaters begin to form a circle around him and the Dark Lord, the fog clears and he realises that he’s not standing on the shores of the Black Lake at all, in fact he’s not even on Hogwarts grounds. An endless expanse of gravestones stretches out on all sides from them; a landscape of death and sorrow… how fitting…  

Voldemort slowly kills the distance between them until finally, he stands right in front of Harry. His eyes are burning with what Harry can only assume is hatred, because his scar bursts open and his eyes fill with tears. He grinds his teeth together, to keep the screams from escaping, not wanting to give Voldemort the pleasure… 

He just has time to register the wand aimed at his heart, before excruciating pain beyond anything he has ever felt before in his life courses through him… every bone in his body is set aflame inside his skin and he jerks violently inside the restraints of the ropes, slamming his head back against the marble gravestone with a sickening crunch and his head explodes in white light… he must be screaming, because he feels the inside of his throat burn and the muscles around his jaws throb —

Suddenly the pain stops again, although his arms and legs continue to spasm for several long seconds and the ropes restraining him dig into his body painfully. He blinks his eyes open to see Voldemort lowering his wand… except, it’s not Voldemort standing in front of him anymore. It’s Lucius. 

The chuckles and titters from the Death Eaters escalate into roars of laughter as Harry blinks tears from his eyes. Voldemort emerges from the shadows again and walks over to stand by Lucius side, grinning coldly at Harry over the other man’s trembling shoulder. The scarlet eyes shine like burning embers through the gloom as a tinkle of cold laughter trickles out of the lipless mouth, that sends a shiver down Harry’s spine. 

”Very nice… well done, Lucius…” Voldemort says softly, brushing the back of his long, white fingers over the other man’s cheek. ”I’m impressed… now, step aside and let me finish him off…” 

In the next moment, the pain is back and this time it doesn’t stop; it just continues to course through Harry’s body relentlessly, gradually growing in intensity until he can’t think at all. His entire existence is narrowed to a fine point and that point is pain… 

”Harry! Harry!” 

He's shaking violently, the back of his head smashing against the hard surface behind him repeatedly… 

”HARRY!” 

Startling awake, Harry realises the shaking is coming from his daddy’s firm hands on his shoulders. He scrambles up to sitting, gasping for breath even as a tight vice continues to press his ribcage together. 

”It’s okay, you’re okay”, Remus says urgently, his hands continuing to paw at Harry’s arms and shoulders. ”It was just a nightmare, you’re home and you’re safe…"

”Daddy!”

He lurches forward to burrow into his daddy’s chest and begins to cry softly when strong arms lock around him tightly. 

”Shhh… it’s all right, you’re safe… I’m here, pup, I’ve got you…”

Harry melts into his daddy’s embrace, feeling more exhausted than he’s ever felt before in his life… not surprising, considering he’s barely had a wink of undisturbed sleep since his last night at Hogwarts and that was three nights ago now. He remembers the effect of the Dreamless Sleep potion that Professor Snape got him and wishes he had some of it left, so he could get at least a few hours rest without having to relive everything that happened in the graveyard. 

Eventually, he gets his breathing back under control and his tears run out.

”Come on, pup… let’s go make some hot chocolate”, Remus murmurs. 

Harry nods and disentangles himself from the man’s embrace. He pulls his soaked pyjamas off with automatic movements, barely even noticing as his daddy hands him a clean pair, just puts them on and reaches for his glasses on the nightstand. The alarm clock reads 4:30. 

Swallowing a groan, Harry follows Remus out of the room and into the kitchen. The sky is already light outside the windows, even though the sun has yet to climb over the horizon. 

Harry collapses bonelessly into his seat at the table and shoves the glasses onto his head so he can rub at his eyes. The last time he looked at his clock before falling asleep it had been 2:00, so he’s had two and a half hours of sleep — at the most — just like every other night since it happened. 

He can feel Remus’ worried eyes on him and pulls himself together. He’s fine, he tells himself. Tired, but fine. So there’s no reason to worry his daddy.

The chocolate helps a little, as does the kiss that Remus plants on his forehead before he takes the seat opposite and asks Harry if he wants to talk about it. Harry shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk, or even so much as think about it. 

But maybe that’s the problem, he thinks. Maybe that’s why I keep dreaming about it, because I won’t think about it when I’m awake, so when I finally go to sleep, my brain jumps at the opportunity to process everything.

It’s a sound theory, but it doesn’t really matter. Awake or asleep, Harry doesn’t want to remember. So if the key to stop having nightmares is to start consciously reliving the horrors while he’s awake, then what’s the point? 

Either way, he’ll be back in that graveyard. 

”Feeling better?” Remus asks him softly. 

”Yeah, a little”, Harry mumbles. 

”Think you can go back to sleep?”

”No, I’m not tired anymore”, Harry lies. ”You go back to bed, though. I’m fine. Promise.”

Remus looks unconvinced, but he doesn’t outright call Harry on the lie. 

”There you are…” Sirius sleep-gravelly voice says suddenly and Harry turns around in his seat to see his dad leaning against the doorframe behind him. ”Everything alright?”

His sleep-swollen eyes flit from Remus to Harry, eyebrows twitching expectantly. 

”Yeah, fine”, Harry lies again. 

Sirius doesn’t look any more convinced than Remus had done. He pushes away from the doorway and walks over to the kitchen counter and starts making a pot of coffee. 

”Really”, Harry insists. ”You guys can go back to bed.”

”Nah…” Sirius mumbles. ”I’m up now.”

Remus pushes to his feet again and together he and Sirius start preparing breakfast, while Harry sips his hot chocolate. The eggs sizzle enthusiastically as Remus grabs the frying pan with his left hand and gives it a good shake, while twirling his wand with right to levitate two slices of bread over to an empty plate. The slices tumble through the air, darkening steadily as they are toasted from a heating charm before finally dropping to the plate. 

With another flick of his wand, Remus sends the plate flying across the kitchen and it lands gracefully in front of Harry on the table, soon followed by a bowl of butter and a jar of raspberry jam. 

Harry is halfway through the second slice when the mail arrives outside the window, the two owls landing on the window sill, the Northern white-face tapping the glass insistently with its beak while the tired-looking barn owl with a rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet dangling from its mouth waits patiently next to it. 

They both take flight again in a flutter of wings as Sirius opens the window, only to soar inside as the window is pushed all the way open. They land gracefully on the counter and Remus unties the small message from the Northern white-face while Sirius pays the other for the paper before taking it over to the table. Harry tries to get a glimpse of the headline of the front page, but Sirius flattens the paper on the table before he has a chance. The picture had been of some old witch he didn’t recognise though, so the paper is clearly keeping quiet about the Triwizard Tournament and Viktor’s death still. 

”It’s from Dumbledore”, Remus says, indicating the short piece of parchment. ”He says he’ll drop by later…”

Sirius doesn’t reply, seemingly engrossed in an article on the second page, his coffee cooling rapidly in the forgotten cup he’s holding an inch away from his mouth. 

”Anything of interest?” Remus asks him as he resumes his seat opposite Harry at the table.

”Same old rubbish…” Sirius mutters, without tearing his eyes away from the paper. 

If he had, he’d notice his frown mirrored on his husband’s face. Certain that Ms Skeeter has outdone herself and not in the mood to hear about it, Harry quickly stuffs the second slice of toast into his mouth and stands up. 

”At least finish chewing…” Remus mutters at him. ”Are you going back to bed?”

Harry shakes his head firmly. 

”Are you sure? You look exhausted…”

”Walk”, Harry replies, the word muffled by his mouthful of toast.

He washes it down with the dregs of his hot chocolate, before putting the mug in the sink and hurrying out of the kitchen. 

It’s a very special feeling to be walking through a town just before sunrise, when nobody else has begun to stir yet and the streets are completely deserted, but it’s light enough to tell your brain that the day has started, yet everywhere you go it’s deathly silent, because the birds haven’t even started singing yet; you are the only person awake, but for some reason you get the eerie sense that you’re the only person alive, the only person left on earth even. 

And if you haven’t slept, or you’ve slept very little, like Harry has in the past few days, that sense is intensified. It’s like he’s carrying his half-sleep with him wherever he goes, which creates a sort of dreamlike state and when he looks at the world around him, suddenly nothing seems really real anymore. 

And maybe it isn’t. Maybe he’s still in bed, dreaming… or maybe… maybe he’s a ghost in this world and that’s why it doesn’t seem real to him anymore. Maybe he never left the graveyard, but died there after all… and everything that’s happened after — the reverse spell and the lucky escape, returning to Hogwarts unscathed, sleeping curled around Draco safe and sound in his own bed in the Slytherin dorm, then returning home with his dads — maybe that’s all been one long dream, his own personal afterlife… it would explain a lot, Harry thinks. Except the nightmares. It doesn’t explain the nightmares, unless his afterlife is set to be a tortured one, which hardly seems fair —

A sudden movement in Harry’s peripheral interrupts his thoughts and he wheels around, staring at the storefronts wildly as his heart begins to hammer away in his chest. 

But there’s nothing. Just empty shop windows and Closed signs. No Death Eaters or Dark Lords, but… maybe they’re hiding?

What was that?

Harry wheels back around again, fumbling for his wand with shaky fingers as he scans the opposite side of the street, sure he caught the flash of a hex in the corner of his eye… 

But again, nothing. Just the rundown old pub and the massive oak tree… but wait… there… 

Harry’s heart skips a beat as he stares at the long, dark shadow behind the tree, then begins to pound twice as hard. There is someone there, lurking in the shadows; a cloaked figure, half-hidden behind the tree trunk… staring at him… as the figure inches towards the edge of the shadow, something glints scarlet under the hood, like two rubies… 

Harry stumbles backwards with a gasp and aims his wand straight at the figure’s head, nearly dropping it entirely as his fingers go numb around the slippery wood. His heart feels close to bursting, pounding with such force he’s sure his ribs will crack from the impact. 

His vision narrows to a point, until everything around the shadow disappears in a whirl of nothingness. He is standing at the mouth of a tunnel and the only thing he can see at the end of it is death itself, coming for him… no, wait… Voldemort… 

Wasn’t it Voldemort? Didn’t I just see —? 

Harry blinks. But the cloaked figure is gone now. 

Where did he go? I just saw —!

But again, there is nothing there. Just an old oak tree with steadily shrinking shadows around it. A soft gust of wind hits him suddenly and he shivers, becoming aware of the cold sweat coating his skin for the first time. 

Still clutching his wand tightly in one hand, Harry approaches the tree cautiously. But there really is no-one behind it… he sinks down to sit cross-legged in the grass between the tree roots and leans his back against the trunk. I’m going crazy, he thinks numbly. Closing his eyes, he slowly releases his breath and with it, the tensions that had slammed into place the second he imagined seeing the the Dark Lord. 

Letting the silence wrap around his senses like a comfy blanket, he lets himself drift off and is almost asleep when the first twitters of bird song breaks through the blanket and jostles him awake again. 

Blinking his eyes open, Harry stares up at the branches overhead and smiles at the brilliant green of the leaves as the first rays of morning sunlight hits them and makes them look dazzlingly real… I’m awake and I’m alive, Harry thinks firmly.  

Pushing himself to his feet again, Harry rests his palm against the rough bark of the oak and looks up at the hill in the distance, where the highest towers of Hogwarts can be seen poking up. Glancing around, Harry realises he’s been standing in this spot once before… last summer, with Draco, before… before everything, Harry’s birthday party and the World Cup and the Tournament and all the rest of it, when Harry’s worries were still normal teenage ones and they all faded away when Draco pulled him to this spot and captured his lips in a searing kiss…

Two fourteen-year-olds kissing the air out of each other’s lungs hungrily, blood boiling in their veins and hearts hammering happily… only a year ago, and yet they’d been so young, Harry thinks now. So innocent and clueless, thinking the worst they’d ever have to face was the disapproval of Draco’s parents and the prospect of going weeks without contact… he chuckles bitterly at the thought. What he wouldn’t give to be back here a year ago now, with his fingers nestled in Draco’s blonde hair and his kiss-bruised lips throbbing… 

”You need a haircut…” 

”You’re one to talk…”

”Mine doesn’t get in my face and even if it did, no-one would care anyway, because I’m not half as pretty as you…”

”Idiot…”

But he’s not even the same person now. Even if he could time travel back to this spot a year ago, would Draco even recognise him? Would he even be able to kiss Draco so carelessly now? He’d definitely give it his best try, but he doubts he’d be able to keep his emotions at bay. 

After the graveyard, Harry doesn’t think he can do anything without the weight of knowing how close he’d come to never have it again come crashing into it, whatever it is, whether it be a kiss or a cup of coffee… he supposes it will fade away eventually, as life moves on, but right now he can’t help feeling overwhelmingly grateful to just be… knowing how close he came to stop being… 

But it doesn’t matter, he figures. Because he has no way of travelling back in time anyway, and the Draco of now kisses with the same urgency as him, he knows. Because even though the blonde wasn’t literally in that graveyard with him, Harry knows he carries the same weights with him… and as much as Harry wishes they could have just one more carefree kiss, just for the novelty of it, he also knows that kisses only get sweeter and lighter the heavier your heart grows. Because you know what the kiss has cost you, so you know how much it’s worth. 

”Harry?”

He turns around to see Remus standing at the side of the road, watching him calmly. 

”You okay, cub?”

Harry nods and walks over to him. Remus gives him a small smile and combs his fingers through his hair, sweeping it out of his face. 

”You need a haircut…”

Harry smiles at the pang of deja vú in his chest and shakes his head. 

”When I was your age, I used to tell your dad the same thing and he always shook his head at me as well… he was rebelling against his parents”, Remus says. ”Is that what you’re doing, Harry?”

”No, never…” Harry says and bumps his nose against the taller man’s jaw bone, before readjusting his bangs to cover his forehead again. ”I just like it like this…”

Remus eyes shine knowingly at him, but he doesn’t say anything else. Just leans in to brush a gentle kiss against Harry’s scar through the strands of hair now covering it, before looping an arm around his shoulders. 

”Come on, it’s almost seven…”

They make their way through Hogsmeade in comfortable silence, waving at old Mrs. Kettle as pokes her head out of her front door to let out her cat Spangles and she smiles tiredly at them and waves back, before shutting the door again. 

When they get to the train station, the horseless carriages are nowhere to be seen and the Hogwarts Express is huffing and puffing on the tracks. Most of the students have already boarded the old steam engine, but a few are still heaving their trunks onboard. 

Harry spots his friends below the steps to the second carriage and all of them sans trunks, so they must have already carried them onto the train and then returned to the platform to wait for him… for some reason, the thought fills Harry with an overwhelming warmth and a small lump starts to swell in his throat. 

Remus hand tightens on his shoulder before falling away completely.

”I’ll wait for you here”, he says. 

Harry nods and hurries over to his friends, smiling at them all when they notice him approach and try their hardest not to beam, but instead nod coolly at him even as relief floods their eyes. 

Blaise, Seamus and Theo take turns to hug him goodbye, slapping his back unnecessarily hard and muttering half-hearted threats about what hexes they’ll hit him with if he doesn’t stay out of trouble during the summer, before quickly stepping back again. 

Daphne and Pansy also step up to give him one-armed hugs, which surprises him but makes him feel all sorts of good about everything else, and he gives them a pinched smile and waves after them as they board the train with the boys, leaving Draco to say goodbye last. 

An insistent bug keeps flitting around Harry’s head and he swats it away and accidentally catches Granger’s eye briefly over the blonde’s shoulder — the girl stands with one foot in the doorway to the third train carriage, ready to board, but she’s stopped dead and is staring at Harry with slightly unfocused eyes — he frowns uncomfortable and looks away again, focusing on Draco.

Chest tight with want, Harry glances at the other boy’s lips, but holds back. It’s not safe for them to be kissing out in the open, especially now… so instead he gives the other boy a meaningful look that he hopes tells him exactly how much he wants to kiss him. 

Draco stares back intently, his eyes shining with a hard determination and then… taking Harry completely by surprise, he throws his arms around his and presses their lips together passionately. Harry gasps into the kiss, but immediately presses back and pulls the other boy close. Behind them the Hogwarts Express lets out whistle and Draco pulls away slightly again, resting their foreheads together.

”Don’t forget your promise…” 

”I won’t”, Harry says thickly and it somehow feels like a vow and in a way, he guesses, it is.  

Draco opens his eyes again and it’s like he can see right into the core of Harry. Another whistle can be heard from the train behind them and Draco reluctantly pulls away from Harry, taking a few steps back towards the steps leading up to the small doorway. 

”I’ll see you soon”, he says and it’s almost a question, so Harry nods and tells him ”Yeah you will. Of course you will.”

Draco smiles and steps onto the Hogwarts Express, but he pauses in the doorway and turns back. 

”Harry…”

”Yeah?”

”I love you too, you know…”

”I know”, Harry smiles. 

Draco’s smile widens happily and he gives Harry a small little wave, before disappearing inside the train just as it starts to move away from the platform slowly. 

After a moment, Harry feels the weight of Remus hand on his shoulder again but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the shrinking dot that is the Hogwarts Express until it’s disappeared completely in the distance.

”Okay?” Remus asks softly. 

Harry nods, ”Yeah — no — better!”

When they get back to the cottage, they can hear voices talking softly but urgently in the lounge, but they fall silent immediately as the floorboards in the hallway creak under Harry’s and Remus feet. Harry cranes his neck to look into the lounge from behind Remus back and catches his dad and Professor Dumbledore huddled around a tea pot on the coffee table, before sitting up straighter.

”Oh hello, Albus”, Remus says and crosses the room to offer the older wizard his hand. 

”Remus”, Dumbledore says pleasantly and stands up. 

Harry hangs back in the doorway and watches warily as the two men shake hands, before Remus takes a seat next to Sirius on the sofa and receives a quick kiss on the cheek. 

”And Harry”, Dumbledore adds and Harry glances back to the Headmaster again. ”It’s a very nice to see you again, my boy… how are you?”

”Fine”, Harry mumbles, then catches himself and adds a quick Sir, ignoring the way that the pale blue eyes twinkle at him over the rim of the half-moon spectacles. 

”I’m pleased to hear that… well, I shall be going then”, the old man adds briskly. ”Sirius, my boy, I’ll see you again soon?”

”Yes”, Sirius says swiftly and stands up to shake the man’s hand. ”Friday after work would be best for me, I can meet you there, say around four-thirty?”

”Perfect”, Dumbledore says gently. ”I shall see you then… Remus, it was nice to see you again. I’ll see myself out —”

A sudden knock on the front door cuts Dumbledore off and Harry catches his dads exchange a confused, and slightly worried look. 

”Harry, go join Remus on the sofa for a sec…” Sirius says, squeezing past him and walking out into the hall. 

”Harry”, Remus adds urgently. 

”Yeah”, Harry mumbles. 

He shuffles over to the sofa slowly while looking over his shoulder at his dad as he opens the front door, but as Harry moves further into the lounge, the angle makes it impossible to see into the hallway anymore, so he doesn’t see who’s at the other side of the front door. He turns around and looks at his daddy instead, who immediately smiles at him. 

”Hullo Sirius…” a man’s voice says as Harry sinks down on the sofa.

”Dawlish, Williamson… What are you doing here?”

”Official visit, I’m afraid…” another man’s voice says. ”Is Harry home?”

A moment later, Sirius returns to the lounge with two Aurors trailing after him. They remain standing just inside the doorway, even as Sirius and Dumbledore resume their seats around the coffee table, but politely accepts when Remus offers them a cup of tea. He grabs the tea pot and brushes past them out of the room, muttering about being right back and the Aurors nod and smile politely at him, before turning back to stare at Harry seriously. 

”Harry Potter… my name is John Dawlish”, the older of the two Aurors introduces himself. ”And this is my partner, Hubert Williamson.”

”Hello…” Harry mumbles nervously, nodding in greeting. 

”We’re heading the investigation into the… erm, incident… that took place during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament and that, sadly, resulted in the death of Viktor Krum”, the Auror, Dawlish, continues. 

”Oh, okay”, Harry says, mouth suddenly dry. 

”In short, we’re here to get your statement—”

”But… but I’ve already told you everything…” Harry says, looking over at his dad and Dumbledore uncertainly. 

”I have given my statement to the Minister”, Dumbledore cuts in calmly. ”Surely, Harry shouldn’t have to go over everything again?”

”With all due respect, Albus”, Dawlish says, frowning. ”You are the Headmaster of Hogwarts, not a Ministry Official… we need to get Harry’s official statement… should this go to trial—”

”Trial?” Sirius exclaims.

”Of course”, Dawlish snaps, turning his frown on Sirius instead. ”A young man is dead, a Bulgarian citizen and an international Quidditch star no less, has died while on British soil, so it’s imperative that we follow procedure, or we’ll have an international scandal on our hands—!”

”Oh, don’t bore me with politics!” Sirius snaps. 

”Of course, we understand it must have been an accident”, Dawlish continues. ”It’s the Triwizard Tournament, after all —”

”It wasn’t an accident!” Harry blurts out incredulously.

The Aurors turn back to face him, frowning seriously. 

”Mr Potter… please start from the beginning…” Dawlish murmurs. 

”And be aware”, the other Auror adds. ”That should this matter go to trial, the jury is more likely to be understanding if the official statement shows your cooperation from the start…”

”My cooperation?” Harry repeats in confusion. ”I am cooperating! Why wouldn’t I be—?”

”What my colleague means”, Dawlish says patiently. ”Is that a jury is likely to vote in favour of acquitting a minor that accidentally caused the death of another champion whilst competing in the Triwizard Tournament, if that minor has been honest about the accident from the start—”

”What? I didn’t kill him!” Harry exclaims. ”It was Voldemort—!”

The Aurors flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name and Harry feels his own heart skip a beat. When did he start using the Dark Lord’s name so casually? He never used to… he supposes, after years of almost nightly nightmares of a faceless monster, that when that monster finally has a face and Harry has stood more or less straight-backed in front of it and even survived a duel with the figure — no, man — saying his name really isn’t that big of a deal anymore… 

Remus returns with the tea pot and four more cups that he places on the coffee table carefully, while looking between the others in the room. 

”Voldemort killed Krum and he almost killed me too”, Harry repeats stubbornly, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction to see the two Aurors flinch again. ”That’s my ’official statement’…”

The older Auror huffs out an annoyed sigh and looks over at Sirius for support, but the other man just sneers back.

”Did you manage to retrieve Viktor Krum’s wand?” Remus asks casually, puncturing the sudden tension in the room.

”It was found on the body, yes”, Dawlish says, squinting suspiciously at the other man. ”Why do you ask?”

”Did you examine the wand?” Remus insists. 

”Of course—”

”And did you discover the use of any Unforgivables?”

”You know we can’t divulge details of the investigation…”

”Well”, Remus says pleasantly, handing the Aurors a cup of tea each. ”If you didn’t, you’ll know that at least one more person must have been present at the time of the… incident, since Harry was subjected to two Unforgivable curses that night, and if they weren’t conjured with Krum’s wand nor Harry’s own — you’re welcome to check his wand right now — they must have come from a third one, as I’m sure you’ll agree?”

”Er… t-two un… unforgivables?” Dawlish repeats hesitantly, eyes flitting between Remus and Harry uncomfortably. ”That’s… that’s what Harry, erm, says happened, is it…?”

”That’s what Madam Pomfrey says happened after she performed a full diagnostics spell on him”, Remus says swiftly, resuming his seat next to Sirius on the sofa and taking a small sip of tea from his cup before carefully placing it back on its saucer. ”She made a note of the residual magic of both the Imperius and the Cruciatus in Harry when he returned to Hogwarts, as I’m sure she’ll attest once you get her official statement…”

”Right, well…” Dawlish mutters, shifting his weight nervously and glaring a little half-heartedly at the cup of tea in his hand. ”We’ll… we’ll of course look into that…”

”I’m sure you will”, Remus says lightly, then turns to Harry. ”Harry, give them your wand…”

Dawlish hands his colleague his tea cup awkwardly and then takes the wand from Harry when he offers it to him, then casts a quick spell on it with his own before handing it back with a curt nod. 

”Well if there’s nothing else…” he mutters. ”We’ll be… be going… yes…”

”I’ll walk with you”, Dumbledore says. ”I’m heading back to Hogwarts anyway…”

”Er…”

Dawlish and Williamson exchange an uncertain look. 

”Hogwarts?” Dawlish repeats. 

”Certainly. I think you’ll find Poppy still at the castle”, Dumbledore says. ”Remus, Sirius… Harry… I hope I’ll see you again soon. Thank you for the tea… Gentlemen, shall we?” he adds, holding out his arm to indicate the two Aurors walk ahead of him out of the lounge, the many embroidered stars on his robe sleeve glittering in the early morning sunlight.

Harry hides a smile behind his hand as the two Aurors spring into action again, nodding hurriedly to Sirius and Remus, before filing out of the room. The younger of the two men catches himself still holding the two teacups and doubles back and puts them down on the coffee table, looking flustered and flushing a bright red. 

Harry’s amusement is short-lived however, because as soon as they hear the front door shut, both his dads faces fall and they exchange a grim look. 

”What’s wrong?” he asks. ”You think I’ll be put on trial after all?”

”No, no, Harry”, Sirius says immediately. ”Don’t worry about that… there’s enough evidence to clear you.”

”So… what’s—?”

Both his dads sigh heavily, exchanging another quick look and Remus gives Sirius a small nod. 

”The Ministry’s official stand is that Barty Crouch Jr. was a deranged Death Eater who believed he was following You-Know-Who’s orders, but that he was acting of his own accord this whole time”, Sirius tells Harry calmly. 

”What?” Harry gasps. ”But that’s mad—!”

”Yes”, Remus agrees. ”But that’s exactly what fear does, Harry, it twists our minds… and that’s what happening right now. The Minister is scared, so scared of the prospect of You-Know-Who’s return, as are most of the people working at the Ministry, that they rather believe anything else…”

”So what do we do…?”

Remus smiles fondly at him and when Harry glances over at his dad he can detect a flare of pride in his eyes as he smirks at him as well, giving him a subtle wink. 

”You aren’t doing anything, Harry”, Remus says kindly. ”But your dad and I will be helping Dumbledore reinstitute the Order of the Phoenix…”

”Order of the Phoenix, what’s that?” Harry asks curiously, ignoring the twinge at being excluded from everything, like some little kid.

”It’s a secret society that Dumbledore started back in 1970 when You-Know-Who first rose to power, an underground Resistance basically… Your dad and I joined as soon as we’d graduated, as did your p- erm, James and Lily… and Wormtail too…”

”Who else is in the Order? That I know?” 

”Well, there’s the Weasleys”, Remus says thoughtfully. ”And Severus, of course…”

”Professor Snape is in the Order?” Harry says, but even as he says it, his mind flashes back to Dumbledore’s memory that he’d witnessed in the Pensieve. ”He was a spy, wasn’t he? Last time?”

Surprise flickers past his dads faces, but Remus nods. 

”Is he going to spy this time, too? Isn’t that dangerous—?”

”It might not come to that…” Remus reassures him. 

Harry nods, falling silent for a moment as he considers everything his dads have told him. It sounds so serious, all of it, with an underground Resistance movement, and spies… 

Of course he’s always been aware of the war, his own existence directly tied to it as it is to such an extent that all the History books mention him by name, and his dads have always been honest with him about what happened to Lily and James, and how he came to be their son… but they’ve always glossed over the details of the war itself — not surprisingly, he figures, considering he’s been plagued by nightmares for as long as he can remember even without the gory details — and for some reason the war has always been more of a fairytale than anything else, in Harry’s mind… but now… now it feels real… 

Because it is real now, it’s all happening again, he thinks, his stomach flipping over.

”Can I join?” he asks, not really expecting anything other than a sounding no. 

”Absolutely not”, Remus says immediately.

”What about after I graduate, like you guys—?”

”No—”

”Hopefully, it won’t come to that”, Sirius cuts in. ”If we can get Fudge to see sense, and the Ministry gets their act together, there will be no need for a secret Resistance this time around…”

*

Five weeks into summer, Harry has developed something of a routine to help him cope with his nightmares… He’ll get ready for bed around ten or so in the evening, say goodnight to his dads then retreat to his room and crawl into bed and wait for his daddy to poke his head through the door to check and see if he’s asleep, and as soon as he’s sure both his dads have gone to bed, he’ll get out of bed again and sneak out the window… he’ll then spends the whole night flying over Hogsmeade until the sun rises, at which point he’ll head back home and sneak back into his room, before heading out into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. 

If it’s a weekend, his dads might even sleep in and he can sneak a couple of cups into his room and save for later… but usually, at least one of them will hear the kettle and join him in the kitchen before the coffee is done, and they’ll make him some toast and ask him how he’s slept… two out of three mornings he’ll lie and tell them he’s slept fine; those are the mornings when he hasn’t slept at all, and he can almost fool himself into thinking it’s not exactly a lie, since what they really mean is Have you had any nightmares? and it’s true that he hasn’t, just as it’s true that he feels fine. 

But every third morning, he’ll take a nap before heading out into the kitchen to make coffee, and every time he does the graveyard is waiting for him as soon as he closes his eyes… those are the mornings when he tells his dads the truth, that he hasn’t slept that great, mainly because there wouldn’t be any point in lying to them, when the truth is so obvious on him, anyway… in everything from the dark smudges of shadow under his bloodshot eyes to the exhausted slump of his shoulders as he sinks into his seat at the kitchen table. 

Sirius will give him a sympathetic half-smile then, while Remus hugs him tightly from behind and burrows his face into the top of Harry’s head and mutters nonsense into his hair. 

”At least it’s getting better”, Sirius will say. ”It’s not every night anymore…”

Harry will look down at his coffee to avoid meeting his dad’s eyes then, always feeling a twinge of guilt for keeping the truth from the both of them… but it can’t be helped, he tells himself. He can’t bring himself to face the graveyard every night, he just can’t — but what good would it do to worry his dads more than absolutely necessary? — He’s fine… a little tired, sure… but ultimately fine. 

The worst part isn’t the exhaustion though, it’s the hallucinations… and Harry knows they’re just figments of his sleep-deprivation, but that doesn’t make them any less scary when they happen. 

He’ll be on his broom, watching the sun rise behind Hogwarts or strolling down the deserted high street, window-shopping idly, when he’ll suddenly catch a movement in the corner of his eye, just like that first morning at the beginning of the summer… or he’ll see someone standing in the shadow of a building, watching him… and every time it happens, even though he knows by now that it’s all in his head, while it’s happening it feels as real as anything, more real even than most other things; and his heart will start to pound impossibly hard, his chest will grow tight and he’ll struggle to breathe, to the point where he almost passes out. 

One time he actually did… he was fumbling for his wand one minute, then crumpling to the ground and clutching his chest, sure he was having a heart attack… and the next thing he knew, he was on his back in the middle of the street, squinting up at the morning sun. It was after that that he started taking a nap every third morning, just to be safe. 

It’s not a perfect system, but it works… 

Or at least Harry had thought it did. 

Until this Thursday morning of week five, when he clambers through his bedroom window only to find Remus sitting on his bed, waiting for him… Harry hangs his head to avoid his daddy’s eyes and the worry he sees there, stomach coiling uncomfortably.

”Good morning…” Remus murmurs, his voice carefully neutral and Harry’s stomach flips.

”Morning”, he mumbles quietly, fingering the handle of his Nimbus nervously, unable to look up. ”I couldn’t sleep, so I… I just went for a fly…”

”Come on, let’s go make some breakfast”, Remus says, his voice still perfectly neutral, but Harry flinches anyway.

He watches through his lashes as his daddy rises to his feet and walks out of the room. Sighing heavily, he leans the broom against the wall next to the open window and follows him out into the kitchen. Sinking into his seat at the table, Harry watches nervously as Remus moves around with familiar movements, making coffee and toast as a tense silence spreads out between them. 

It’s not until he’s served the breakfast and taken the seat opposite Harry that Remus looks up and meets his eyes again. Harry feels another twinge in his chest and it takes all of his self-control to not look down… the worry in his daddy’s eyes is mixed with disappointment now, and Harry feels awful… angry Remus, as scary as he is, would be so much easier to deal with… 

”I didn’t want to worry you”, Harry mumbles, picking at the crust of his cooling toast. ”I just couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a fly… thought if I tired myself out, I’d be able to sleep after…”

Remus nods calmly, but his eyes bores into Harry and it feels like he can read his every thought… unable to maintain the eye-lock anymore, Harry looks down at his toast finally. 

”I think that sounds like a reasonable idea…” Remus says in a level tone of voice. ”Did it work?”

”What?” Harry mumbles, glancing up at him briefly again. 

”Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

Harry hesitates, then shakes his head. 

”I see…”

”Sorry”, Harry mumbles. ”Didn’t mean to worry you…”

”I appreciate that, Harry… but how do you think I felt when I walked into your room and found your bed empty? And how do you think I would feel if something would have happened to you?”

”Sorry…” Harry mumbles again, voice scratchy suddenly and he swallows thickly past the small lump swelling in his throat. 

”How many times?”

”What—?”

”How many times have you snuck out in the middle of the night?” Remus says, his voice growing a little harder with suppressed anger. 

”I haven’t, I—” Harry begins, but cuts himself off abruptly when Remus pushes to his feet and wheels around to brace himself against the counter. ”Daddy…?”

”Harry…” Remus says, voice strangled with suppressed emotion. ”Don’t lie to me… please…”

”I’m… I’m so—”

Remus wheels back around and pins him with his flashing eyes. Harry flinches and looks down again miserably… he knows… 

”Last night was the third night this week that I went to check on you and you weren’t in your bed”, Remus says with forced calm. ”I want you to tell me the truth, Harry… how many nights have you snuck out?”

Feeling his eyes sting, Harry blinks miserably and hangs his head even heavier, until the back of his neck begins to ache from the strain. 

”Harry…”

”All summer”, Harry mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper, but he can tell his daddy has heard him because the silence that follows feels even heavier than before. 

He hears the heavy sigh that escapes his daddy, but can’t bring himself to look up. A hot tear spills down the side of his face and he quickly bats it away.

”Is it the nightmares?” Remus asks finally, his voice warm and gentle again, the way it should be and Harry nods. ”Okay…”

Remus lowers himself into his seat and sighs again. 

”Okay… we’ll have to find a way to deal with them, then…”

Harry’s eyes flit up to his daddy’s face in surprise, hardly daring to hope. 

”Really?” he says in a small voice. 

”You can’t go on like this, Harry”, Remus replies sternly. ”It’s extremely dangerous to deprive yourself of sleep, especially on a regular basis like you’ve been doing — it stops now, is that clear?”

”Yeah, a-alright…” 

”We’ll have to get you some Dreamless Sleep. But I want to talk to a professional first, see if we can get some help to devise a schedule… I don’t want you to get immune or addicted…”

”Hey…” Sirius sleep-gravelly voice pipes up behind Harry suddenly and he turns around to see the man leaning against the doorframe, hair all over the place and eyes swollen. ”You two are up early… did you have another nightmare, Harry?”

Harry turns back to Remus, who gives him an expectant look. Harry sighs, feeling his earlier relief and excitement deflate again.

”I didn’t sleep…”

”Again…” Sirius mutters, moving into the kitchen and grabbing a coffee cup from the drying rack next to the sink. ”Do we have a plan?”

He drops into his usual seat at the table and reaches for the coffee. Harry looks between him and Remus in surprise. 

”Yes”, Remus says simply, giving Harry a small smile. ”No more sneaking out of the house for a start, right Harry?”

Harry nods hurriedly. 

”And I am going to talk to Severus about setting up schedule for Harry to have Dreamless Sleep”, Remus continues. 

Sirius pulls a face, but doesn’t protest. Harry realises they must have discussed this already, before confronting him about it. 

”I’ll bring it up after the meeting today, if he makes it…”

”Still don’t see why it’s got to be him”, Sirius mutters. ”He’s not a mediwizard…”

”No, but he’s one of the best Potions Masters in Britain”, Remus says slowly, frowning when Sirius snorts. ”And he’s Harry’s Head of House, which means he’ll be able to make sure Harry continues following the schedule while at Hogwarts…”

Sirius hmphs noncommittally at that, but his defiant frown smoothes out slightly and he proceeds to sip his coffee silently afterwards. 

”You’re going to another Order meeting today?” Harry asks carefully. 

In the past three weeks, the Order of the Phoenix has begun to operate seriously, having meetings at least once and sometimes twice a week, but Harry’s dads have been very vague about what exactly the meetings have been about and what the Order is actually doing. 

All he knows is that Sirius has allowed them the use of his childhood home in central London as Headquarters and no matter how much Harry has nagged him about it, he refuses to let Harry come along to any of the meetings, saying he doesn’t want Harry to see the place where he grew up or what kind of people his parents were or have to come face to face with his mother, whatever he means by that… both of Sirius parents are dead, after all, so Harry doesn’t understand in what way he’d be forced to face them if he went to the house now… 

The mail arrives in a flurry of movement outside the window and Harry’s stomach flutters in excitement when he sees the third owl, next to the usual two with the Daily Prophet and the day’s batch of hate letters, and he scrambles to his feet in a hurry to open the window and let the birds inside. 

He eagerly unties the rather thick roll of parchment from the third owl’s leg and feels his stomach flutter again as the familiar handwriting confirms his suspicion… then to his surprise, the regular post owl with the handful of letters that he’d assumed would addressed to his parents, avoids Remus outstretched hand and plops down on Harry’s other arm instead and proceeds to prod him in the chest with the small bunch of letters clamped in its beak. 

Bemused, Harry takes the letters from the owl and watches as it takes flight again and soars back out of the window. 

”Harry, give them to me…” Remus says calmly and holds out his hand. 

”What? Why?” he asks. ”What are they?”

”Just more rubbish, probably…” Remus says, making an insistent claw gesture with his hand. 

Harry looks between the letters and the roll of parchment from Draco and decides he’s more eager to read Draco’s message than find out what’s in the letters, so he hands them over to his daddy without a fuss. 

”Is that from Draco?” Remus asks lightly, clearly intending to distract Harry from the fact that he hides the other letters at the bottom of the small pile of old Prophets at the end of the counter. 

”Yeah”, Harry says, unrolling the parchment eagerly and glancing at the top-right corner where the blonde has dated his message. ”It’s four days old, they must be in France still…”

Draco had gone to spend the summer with his mother in France, as usual. But unlike previous summers, when they’d usually spend the first four weeks at the manor, they’d gone the very same day as Draco left Hogwarts and it seems like they’re not about to return to Britain any time soon… Harry scans the message quickly, for any sign of bad news and when he finds none, he rolls up the parchment again and tucks it away in his pyjama bottoms’ pocket to read more carefully later. 

”Can I have some more coffee, please?” he asks carefully. 

”Sure…” Remus murmurs, grabbing the cafetiere as he gets to his feet and sets about making some more. 

”Are you going to open the letters?” Harry asks after a moment. ”Might be important…”

”They’re not”, Remus mutters. 

”How do you know?”

”Harry, leave it…” Sirius mumbles tiredly. 

”They’re addressed to me though, aren’t they?” Harry insists. 

”Yes, but you don’t want to read them”, Remus says firmly. 

”How do you know—?”

Sirius huffs and rubs his hands over his face, ”Let him have them, if he wants…”

”Have there been others—?” Harry asks, looking between his dads warily. 

”Fine”, Remus mutters and snatches the small bunch of letters from beneath the old papers and tosses them onto the table. ”Here…”

Harry stares at the letters, feeling a sinking sensation in his belly. He doesn’t want to read them, not really. He just wants to know what’s going on and there’s clearly something his dads aren’t telling him… 

”You might as well read the Prophets as well”, Sirius says heavily. 

”I have been…” Harry says, frowning in confusion. 

”Have you?” Sirius says, raising an eyebrow at him. 

”Well… the headlines, anyway”, Harry mumbles. ”But if there would be anything about the Death Eaters, it would be front page news, wouldn’t it—?”

Sirius snorts humourlessly and shakes his head. 

”The Prophet isn’t reporting on the Death Eater’s or V-Voldemort’s return, Harry…” Remus says quietly, resuming his seat at the table and refilling Harry’s coffee cup. ”They’re following the Ministry’s directives, and you know the Ministry’s stand on this matter is…”

”Yeah…” Harry mutters bitterly. ”So what d’you mean about reading the Prophet, then?”

”They’re not just omitting news concerning Death Eater activities”, Remus says darkly. ”All summer they’ve gone to great lengths to undermine Dumbledore and… well, you Harry…”

”Me? How do you mean?”

”Just small things. Small, snide comments slipped into articles about other things…”

”Like what?”

”Like this one…” mutters Sirius, who’s been flicking through today’s edition of the Prophet while Harry and Remus have been talking, and he smoothes it out on top of the table, turning it so that Harry can read the article. 

”…’Gudgeon thwarted by bumblebee’?” Harry reads the headline out loud and shakes his head in confusion. ”What’s that got to do with—?”

”Further down…” Sirius says, pointing to a sentence in the last paragraph of the article. 

Ragmar Dorkins, manager and spokesperson for Chudley Cannons, claims that Gudgeon is healing fast in a closed ward of St. Mungos and is expected to resume his position as Seeker on the team in time for next month’s match against the Appleby Arrows… We can only hope that the fall off his broom hasn’t left Galvin Gudgeon with any permanent damage, such as any lasting scars, or we’ll be expected to worship him next…

 

”…What”, Harry mumbles, staring at the words but not really comprehending them. ”I don’t… I don’t understand… what are they trying to say? I don’t expect to be worshipped—!”

”Of course not, cub…” Remus says heavily. ”But that’s the point. They’ve turned you into a… a long-standing joke, essentially…”

”But why?” Harry exclaims. 

”Because by weaving in these little digs at you and Dumbledore in their articles, they’ve made you and — more importantly — your claims about V-Voldemort returning, into… well, a joke, as well…”

”So what, now everyone thinks I’m… I’m… some attention-seeking… joke?” Harry splutters. 

”They’ll learn the truth soon enough”, Sirius mutters, but it hardly makes Harry feel any better. 

As if sensing Harry’s unease — or maybe it’s right there in his face, plain for anyone to read, but whatever the reason — Remus reaches out and smoothers Harry’s clenched fist with his own, warm hand. It’s a small comfort, but enough to make Harry relax a little… 

”Why don’t you go lie down for a bit, Harry?” Remus suggests kindly. ”Read Draco’s letter?”

”Yeah, all right…” Harry murmurs and pushes to his feet. 

As he goes to slide his bedroom door shut, he can hear his dads muffled voices begin to talk softly out in the kitchen again, but he can’t make out the words. He shuts the door with a click and walks over to his desk. He eyes his bed longingly, feeling his exhaustion claw at him, but he decides not to risk it and sinks down in his desk chair instead. His daddy will purchase some Dreamless Sleep potion for him later and then he’ll finally get some proper rest; he can wait until then…

He turns to face his desk and carefully unrolls the piece of parchment and smoothes it out on top of the desktop, smiling at the slightly swirly handwriting that he’s come to know so well by now… as per his habit, Draco starts his letter with a sweet greeting — he has taken to calling Harry all sorts of sickly sweet pet names throughout the summer (such as Petal and Sugar cube), each one sillier than the last — and this one is definitely the silliest yet, Harry thinks fondly as he reads the words: ”Dearest Dew Drop”

He snorts in amusement and shakes his head. 

”The temperature here in Quiberon continues to climb and at the time of writing it has reached an unbearable 32 degrees…” Draco continues and if Harry closes his eyes he can just picture his haughty look on the other boy’s face as he complains about it in his driest voice. ”If it wasn’t for the sea breeze I’m sure I would have perished from heatstroke ages ago… of course, the downside to the harsh wind is that it dries out my skin terribly — you won’t believe how many bottles of moisturising creme I’ve gone through already (now, get your mind out of the gutter!)”

Harry chuckles, even as a light blush blooms in his cheeks at the subtle but unmistakable reference… 

The rest of the letter continues in much the same fashion, offering him a detailed and effortlessly witty recount of the Malfoys’ uneventful last four days, without divulging any real information, and Harry can’t help but to wonder if Draco is keeping his letters light-hearted in case they get intercepted, or if it’s simply for Harry’s benefit… to counter-act everything else that is going on… not that it really matters, Harry thinks. Whether it’s intentional or not, it does make him feel better. 

”Mother tells me that we’re travelling to a Medieval village called Pomas in the next few days, where apparently there is a specialist store for magical artefacts, that she would like to visit, disguised as a rather charming seashell museum for the local muggles, I’m told… (honestly!) And after that we’ll move on to the Pyrenees, before we head back home… what she’s hoping to accomplish with that detour, I dread to think… but if she wants me to transfer to Beauxbatons she has another thing coming!…” 

Harry frowns, feeling his heart pinch at the mere mention of Draco transferring schools. Surely they wouldn’t do that? he thinks worriedly. 

He knows Lucius always wanted Draco to attend Durmstrang, but that Narcissa had put her foot down and insisted he attend Hogwarts instead, because she wanted him closer to home… but what if the witch has now changed her mind? What if she plans to make the move to France permanent, to get Draco out of harm’s way now that Voldemort is returned?

No, Harry thinks firmly. France isn’t any safer than Britain, so that doesn’t make any sense. Draco isn’t going anywhere…

”Anyway, she’s calling me now, so I’d better round this up; there is quaint little café down by the docks that she wants to try — I’ve tried telling her it’s a muggle establishment, but she refuses to listen, so this should be interesting!” Draco continues to write. ”I’m thinking about you (like, constantly — it’s a problem!) and I miss you awfully. I’m counting down the days until the start of school, when I get to see (and other things with) you again! 

Love you, 

D”

All of Harry’s insides seem to squirming and fluttering, as he stares at the last two words… he still daydreams, almost obsessively, about that moment in Hogsmeade Station when Draco spoke the words for the first and, so far, only time… this is the first time he has put the words into writing… 

Heart hammering excitedly in his chest, Harry starts digging through the mess in his desk drawers until he finds a blank piece of parchment and then fumbles with a quill, eager to start his reply so that he can tell the blonde that he loves him too… but as soon as he puts the quill to the paper, he suddenly doesn’t know what to write… I can’t start with I love you, can I? he thinks uncertainly. 

A soft knock on his door interrupts him and he twists around in his chair to see Remus stick his his head through the open door. 

”Hey…” he murmurs gently. ”Did you manage to get any sleep?”

Harry considers telling him he has, but then decides he’s done enough lying for one summer and shakes his head with a pinched smile instead. Remus doesn’t look the least bit surprised and mirrors the smile sympathetically. 

”How is Draco?” he asks instead. 

Harry feels his cheeks heat up slightly, his smile widening automatically. 

”Good?” Remus guesses, his mouth twitching with amusement. 

”Yeah… or, well… the same, I guess…”

Remus nods. 

”Your dad and I are heading to London for the Order meeting now, we won’t stay for lunch, but I don’t know how long the meeting will take, so if you get hungry before we—”

”Can’t I come?” Harry asks hopefully. 

”You know your dad doesn’t want—”

Harry huffs and slouches down in his chair, glaring petulantly at the ink blot on top of the parchment in front of him. He can hear Remus sigh behind him and soon feels the man’s big hands knead his shoulders gently, before planting a kiss on the top of his head. 

”You would be bored out of your mind within minutes…”

”So? I’m bored here, all alone…” Harry grouses, even though it’s not strictly true and he feels kind of bad for making his daddy feel guilty. 

”We won’t be long, I promise…” 

”Whatever…” Harry mutters, shrugging the man’s hands off. 

”If you do get hungry—”

”Whatever!” Harry snaps again. ”Just go!”

He immediately regrets snapping at his daddy, as soon as he hears his bedroom door click shut behind him. But his pride prevents him from running after the man to apologise. Instead dips his quill in the ink well again and starts writing: ”My sweetest Pink Coconut Icicle…”

Pausing with his quill perched on the next line, Harry reads back what he’s just written and snorts a little to himself… if Draco interprets that as a reference to his sun tan, he’ll kill me… 

Harry finishes his letter — a lot shorter than Draco’s had been, but Harry doesn’t possess Draco’s eloquence or ability to write inches upon inches about absolutely nothing, either — and by the time he’s rolled it up and tied it to Hedwig’s leg, his stomach has started growling. 

”Try and get this to Draco as quickly as possible”, Harry tells Hedwig. ”Then you can enjoy some french mice, okay?”

She hoots lightly and nips at his finger playfully. 

”All right, off you go…” Harry says and opens the window for her. 

After she’s fluttered off in the distance, Harry walks out into the kitchen and discovers a plate of food under a Stasis Charm, waiting for him on the table and he feels another twinge of guilt about his behaviour earlier. Sinking into his seat, he decides to make it up to his daddy after he’s eaten… I’ll clean my room and do the laundry, he thinks. That will keep me busy until they get home as well.

But by the time Harry has finished hanging the damp clothes to dry on the washing line outside, there still wasn’t any sign of either of his dads… worry flares up in Harry’s chest as he checks his watch and realises it’s already three o’clock, but he pushes it down firmly and tells himself it’s the first Order meeting in over a week, so they obviously must have a lot to go over, that’s all… 

Not wanting to sit around and wait, Harry decides to go for a walk to keep himself busy. He would really love to go for another fly, but being as weak as he is from exhaustion right now, he knows it would be extremely reckless… 

As the air outside is even balmier than inside the cottage, Harry takes off his thin jumper and tosses it through his open bedroom window and walks out of the gate in just his t-shirt and Gladrags short trousers, relishing the sensation of the warm summer breeze across his naked skin as he walks, and picks up the pace until he’s almost jogging down the main street. 

Spangles, the neighbour’s cat, watches him with a decidedly unimpressed look from her rolled-up position below the steps to Spintwitches Sporting Needs, obviously not seeing the point of moving at all unless you’re chasing a mouse… Smirking, Harry picks up his pace further and runs all the way to Zonko’s at the far end of town, before turning around and running all the way back again. 

He finally stops next to the old oak tree, his new favourite spot in the town, and sinks down in the grass to catch his breath. 

After a moment, as his heartbeat has slowed down and he begins to cool down again, the air seems to cool as well. In fact, one particularly cold breeze hits him and he shivers violently, hugging himself. Blinking his eyes open again, he looks around warily… the sun seems to have been smothered by an unusually thick blanket of clouds; if Harry’s watch wasn’t showing a quarter past four in the afternoon, he would have sworn the it had set already… sitting up, Harry hugs himself against the cold again and looks around, feeling an uncomfortable weight push on his chest… something is wrong… 

Clambering to his feet, Harry walks out from behind the oak tree and squints down the street, but he can barely make anything out, it’s that dark… the air is freezing cold now, Harry rubs his bare arms swiftly to get the blood circulating, feeling the goose bumps on his skin… what is going on?

As though the sun has been extinguished like a torch, all of Hogsmeade has been bathed in darkness… but it’s not like any darkness Harry has ever experienced before, not like the night when he’s out flying to escape sleep, because at least then there’s the moon and stars to break up the dark, but not now… now there is nothing, just a pitch black fog that covers everything and Harry imagines he can feel it inside his lungs when he breathes in, like the air itself has turned to darkness… ice cold darkness… 

”Daddy…” he whispers, voice trembling with an instinctive fear that doesn’t even make sense to him. 

And then he hears it… he hears it before he sees it… a low wheezing, like someone breathing… heart jumping into his throat, Harry wheels around in panic and stares unseeingly into the darkness… the noise draws closer and closer to him… it’s definitely someone — or something — moving quietly closer, its rattling breaths the only thing giving them away… 

Then he sees it; a hooded figure, darker than the darkness around it, emerging from the shadows in front of Harry. 

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Harry fumbles for his wand, but his fingers are numb with cold now and he drops it to the ground. 

It’s not real, he tells himself. It’s just in your head —

The figure is only metres away from him now, towering over him and with another rattling breath, it seems to suck the very air out of Harry’s lungs and before he knows what’s happened, his knees have buckled under him and he’s crumpled on the ground, with his own breath caught in his chest… the cold has seeped into his bones now, into his very core… he’s drowning in it… gasping on lungfuls of stinging, ice cold air… it seems to be rushing in his ears as well, it’s all he can hear…

No, he thinks faintly. There’s something else too, something underneath the creature’s breath and the rushing of wind in his ears… someone screaming… a woman…

Please, not Harry, please!

Harry’s heart sinks like a stone; he knows those screams, knows exactly who they belong to… He feels himself falling — no, drowning — 

Not Harry! PLEASE, NO!

Then, just before the darkness claims him, a faint light breaks through the darkness in the distance, drawing steadily closer to him… it almost looks like an animal running towards him… like an animal made of light…