Sirius ran a hand through his tangled hair, frustration clear in his stormy grey eyes. "So let me get this straight... Not only was I thrown into Azkaban without a trial, but my grandfather tried multiple times to get me a retrial?"
Grimbok nodded, his expression carefully neutral. "Yes. Arcturus Black petitioned the Wizengamot on three separate occasions for a formal trial regarding your alleged crimes. The first two attempts were ignored outright. The third was blocked under the reasoning that 'the case had already been tried, and a guilty verdict reached'—which, given the complete lack of an actual trial, was nothing more than a bureaucratic lie."
Sirius scoffed, slumping back into his chair. "I always thought the old bastard despised me. He let Walburga burn my face off the family tree and never spoke to me again after I left."
"That was mostly for show," Grimbok said. "You were still legally part of the Black family, even if he removed you from the line of succession. He may have disapproved of your choices, but you were still the last legitimate heir of the Black line. Despite his prejudices, Arcturus valued family legacy above all else. His efforts to get you a trial suggest that, at the very least, he didn't want the last true-born Black to be thrown away so carelessly. If he really despised you, then he certainly wouldn't have kept your godson as the legal heir."
Harry leaned forward, tapping his fingers against the table. "This means that if I take up the Black lordship, I could petition for a trial, right?"
"Yes," Grimbok confirmed, his sharp gaze meeting Harry's. "As Lord Black, you would have the right to demand justice for a member of your House. Combined with the evidence of Pettigrew's survival and confession, this would force the Wizengamot to grant Sirius a trial."
"But that comes with problems," Sirius interjected, his tone grim. "If Harry takes up his lordships now, it'll expose him to Dumbledore. That old man will pull every string to regain control over him."
Grimbok inclined his head. "That is the primary concern. Dumbledore has gone to great lengths to maintain legal control over you. If he finds out you are trying to be legally independent, he may attempt to use his political influence to seize control over your assets or undermine your legal standing. Right now, we are still gathering evidence of his thefts and manipulations. If we act too soon, he may move to cover his tracks before we can use it against him. You need to gain your Lordships without him knowing."
Harry clenched his fists. "Then we need more time."
"A few months at least," Grimbok agreed. "I am still tracking where all the stolen money and heirlooms have been sent. Dumbledore has taken great care to spread out his thefts, moving artifacts and funds across multiple accounts. Some of the grimoires stolen from your vaults have disappeared entirely, meaning they have either been placed under the Fidelius Charm or hidden within personal vaults belonging to his allies."
Sirius growled, gripping the armrest of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. "If I ever get my hands on him..."
"You will get your justice," Grimbok said evenly. "But we must be careful. The best course of action right now is to continue gathering evidence while preparing to secure Harry's emancipation."
"What's the best way to go about that?" Harry asked, shifting in his seat.
"The most straightforward method is through the Wizengamot," Grimbok explained. "A formal petition for early adulthood could be filed, but given Dumbledore's control over the Wizengamot, this would likely fail before it even begins."
Harry frowned. "So what's the alternative?"
"A declaration of adulthood from two high ministry officials," Grimbok said. "According to old laws, if two separate high-ranking ministry officials verbally acknowledge a minor as an adult, the declaration becomes legally binding. It is rarely used, but it remains on the books."
Sirius sat up straighter. "So if we can convince two ministry officials to declare Harry an adult, Dumbledore can't challenge it?"
"Correct," Grimbok confirmed. "Even the Wizengamot cannot overturn an official declaration of magical adulthood unless it is proven to have been given under duress."
Harry sighed. "And where exactly do we find two ministry officials willing to do that?"
"I will look into it," Grimbok promised. "There are a few people who may be sympathetic to your situation. It may take time, but if we approach the right individuals, we could have your emancipation secured before the end of the year. The problem would be finding Officials with a high enough position."
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "I can wait a few months if it means Dumbledore gets what's coming to him."
Harry nodded. "Then that's the plan. We lay low for now. Keep gathering evidence, find the right ministry officials, and when the time is right, we strike."
"And Pettigrew?" Sirius asked, his voice tight with barely contained hatred. "We can't keep him in that box forever."
"I know," Harry muttered. "We need to hand him over in a way that forces the Ministry to acknowledge his existence. If we send the evidence to Madam Bones and arrange a public handover—maybe in front of reporters and Aurors—they won't be able to deny the truth."
"Risky," Grimbok noted. "But effective. Fudge would likely try to cover it up, but if there's too much public exposure, he'll have no choice but to act."
"Then we'll plan for that once we secure my emancipation," Harry decided.
Grimbok studied Harry for a moment, then gave a rare nod of approval. "A solid strategy."
Sirius grinned. "I like this plan. It ends with me free, Dumbledore exposed, and Pettigrew rotting in a cell where he belongs."
Harry exhaled slowly. "Now we just have to pull it off."
As the discussion wound down, Harry stretched his arms, feeling the tension begin to ease from his shoulders.
"I'll walk you out," he said to Grimbok, standing up.
Grimbok gave a subtle sigh of relief, clearly eager to get outside after being in a room with a massive dragon lurking nearby.
Harry chuckled, moving toward the door and froze mid-step.
A giant, golden eye was peering through the window.
Sirius yelped. "BLOODY HELL!"
Harry groaned, already knowing what was coming.
Grimbok, meanwhile, went absolutely still. His hand instinctively reached for his axe, his goblin reflexes primed for fight-or-flight.
"She's doing it again," Harry muttered under his breath.
With excruciating slowness, Grimbok turned his head toward the window, coming face-to-face with a massive dragon staring right at him.
Nox tilted her head, her sharp teeth barely visible between her slightly open jaws.
Then—
She let out a slow, deep, ominous hiss.
Grimbok didn't move.
Harry sighed. "Nox... Stop trying to scare him."
Nox let out a chuffing noise, her version of a laugh. "But it's fun, Mother!"
Grimbok turned to Harry with a deadpan expression. "I hate everything about this."
Harry grinned. "You'll get used to her."
Grimbok gave him a long look, then muttered something in Gobbledegook.
Nox, meanwhile, was still chuckling to herself, clearly pleased with herself.
~
Harry ran a hand through his hair, his eyes fixed on the open journal spread across his desk. His fingers traced the elegant, looping script of the centuries-old Peverell ancestor, carefully deciphering the Latin as he made notes in a separate notebook.
The journal had yet to reveal the precise location of the Peverell Keep, but it did confirm that the author had lived near it. Mentions of wild plants native to Wales and creatures he encountered near his abode made Harry confident that the keep had to be somewhere in North Wales.
A thrill of excitement ran through him.
This was real progress.
Before he could continue translating, the fireplace in the sitting room flared green, signalling an incoming visitor.
Harry pushed back his chair and stood, stepping into the room just as a blur of blonde came flying out of the fireplace.
"Luna—!"
She launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his waist, nearly knocking him off balance.
"Harry!" she breathed, squeezing him tight. "The wrackspurts told me you were up to something again! But I missed you too much to let them tell me more!"
Harry laughed, hugging her back. "I missed you too, Luna."
Before he could say more, Neville stepped through, dusting himself off.
Harry clapped him on the back. "Neville. Happy birthday, mate. How's your birthday been?"
Neville grinned. "About to be better now that we finally get to see what you've been hiding for the past two years."
Before Harry could respond, the floo flared again.
Theo and Blaise stepped out, both looking mildly disgruntled from the floo travel.
"I hate floo powder," Theo grumbled, brushing soot off his sleeves.
"At least we made it in one piece," Blaise muttered, shaking his robes.
Harry smirked, shutting the floo behind them. "Well, if it makes you feel better, you're going to have bigger things to worry about than soot in a few minutes."
"Oh?" Theo arched a brow.
Harry tilted his head knowingly. "Remember what I said about Nox?"
"The dragon who thinks she's terrifying now?" Blaise asked dryly.
"Yeah, about that," Harry cleared his throat. "She's got it in her head that she has to be scary, especially after Sirius reacted so dramatically when he first met her."
Theo and Blaise exchanged uneasy looks.
"She's pretending," Harry reassured them, grinning. "Not actually aggressive. Just... don't run. She'll think it's a game."
"Wonderful," Theo deadpanned. "We're going to get eaten."
"Not if we keep Luna between us," Blaise muttered, causing Luna to giggle.
Before they could say more, a large black dog bounded into the room.
"Pup!" Sirius transformed mid-stride, catching Luna in his arms and spinning her around, laughing. "Little Moon! You get weirder every day!"
"And you get smellier," Luna replied serenely, patting his cheek.
Sirius chuckled, setting her down and grinning at the others. "Alright, are you lot ready to meet the overgrown lizard?"
"Dragon," Harry corrected, motioning for them to follow him outside.
The warm summer air greeted them as they stepped outside, the sound of waves crashing against the shore filling the space. The cove was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, a breathtaking sight—one that did nothing to ease the nervous tension in Blaise and Theo's shoulders.
Harry cupped his hands around his mouth.
"Nox!"
The response was instant.
A powerful roar shook the cliffs, the sound vibrating through their chests.
A massive shadow detached itself from the cliffside cave, wings unfurling with a deafening snap.
Theo and Blaise froze.
Neville let out a low whistle.
Luna clapped excitedly.
With a thunderous landing, Nox soared into view, the sheer force of her arrival kicking up sand as she landed a few feet away.
Her golden eyes gleamed, sharp teeth flashing as she roared into the sky, spitting fire in a dramatic display.
Blaise and Theo didn't move a muscle.
Luna? She laughed and clapped. "That was brilliant, Nox!"
Harry groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Nox, we talked about this."
Nox tilted her massive head, eyes glittering with amusement. "I did good, yes? I was very scary."
"Terrifying," Harry deadpanned, while Sirius snorted behind him. "Now stop trying to give them heart attacks."
"I was protecting the nest!" Nox huffed, clearly proud of herself.
"It doesn't need protecting," Harry grumbled, but Nox ignored him.
Neville, who had been watching in open fascination, finally spoke. "She's... incredible."
Theo exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath. "I cannot believe you've been hiding a bloody dragon from us."
"I didn't hide her," Harry protested, grinning. "I just didn't tell you."
"That's the same thing," Blaise argued, eyes still locked on the massive dragon.
Sirius grinned, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Welcome to life with Pup. Full of secrets, surprises, and the occasional near-death experience."
"I heard that," Harry muttered, but he was grinning too.
After the initial shock wore off, they started exploring the cove, listening to Sirius tell dramatic stories about his time living in the cove, and watching as Nox continued to playfully mess with the boys.
Luna, of course, had no fear at all, walking right up to Nox and patting her snout as if she were a common house pet.
Blaise and Theo slowly warmed up, though they still jumped every time Nox moved suddenly.
Neville, on the other hand, was completely enamoured by the dragon, asking endless questions about her diet, growth rate, and temperament.
The air around the bonfire crackled with warmth, the golden glow flickering across their faces as laughter and cheerful chatter filled the cove. The scent of salt air mixed with the rich aroma of cake as they gathered to celebrate Neville's 14th birthday.
Neville, face red from embarrassment, tried for the hundredth time to downplay the attention, but Luna was having none of it.
"Neville," she declared, tapping a spoon against her cup as if making a grand announcement. "You are officially another year older, which means you are another year wiser, another year stronger, and another year closer to discovering the secrets of the universe!"
Neville groaned, hiding his face in his hands while the others laughed. "It's just a birthday, Luna!"
"Yes, but it's yours," Harry pointed out, smirking as he slid a small wooden box across the table toward him. "And that means we get to spoil you a little."
Neville hesitated before carefully opening the box, his eyes widening in shock when he saw what was inside.
"Harry…" he whispered, his fingers running over the thriving, green plant inside—one that had been extinct for over five centuries. "This is… Moonshade Ivy?"
Harry grinned. "Found some seeds in the vault, thought you'd like it."
Neville gawked at him. "This plant has been extinct since the 1500s! The last recorded sighting was in an old Herbology journal! How did you—?"
"Does it matter?" Blaise interrupted smoothly, smirking. "It's yours now."
Neville blinked rapidly, clearly overwhelmed, before looking at Harry with earnest gratitude. "Thank you. This is… amazing."
Harry shrugged, grinning. "Happy birthday, Nev."
Luna, Theo, and Blaise followed with their own gifts—a finely crafted wand holster enchanted to resist Summoning Charms from Theo, a rare Herbology book from Luna, and a small, intricately carved dagger from Blaise.
"For protection," Blaise explained, smirking. "You never know when you'll need it."
Neville rolled his eyes fondly, but the smile on his face was undeniable.
The night passed far too quickly, filled with stories, jokes, and easy camaraderie.
He sat next to Nox, absentmindedly running his fingers along the smooth scales on her snout as she rested her massive head beside him.
As the stars sparkled overhead, the group started whispering between themselves.
Harry narrowed his eyes, but before he could question them further, Luna suddenly jumped to her feet, eyes shining.
"Ten… Nine… Eight…"
Everyone joined in, their voices rising as they reached—
"Three… Two… One…"
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!"
Harry froze, his mind blanking for a moment.
Then, a warm crooning rumbled beside him, and Nox lifted her head, tilting it slightly. "Happy hatchday, mother."
Harry felt his face heat up, his ears burning. "Wait—this was for me? But—but it's Neville's birthday—"
"It was Neville's birthday," Theo corrected smugly, crossing his arms. "Now it's yours."
Neville laughed. "I already got my turn. It's your turn to suffer now."
Harry groaned, running a hand through his hair, but the embarrassment in his chest was quickly overshadowed by warmth. Truthfully, he had completely forgotten about his own birthday, caught up in trying to celebrate Neville's.
Before he could get too emotional, Blaise clapped his hands together. "Alright, presents!"
Harry blinked. "You got me presents?"
"Of course we did," Theo rolled his eyes. "We actually planned ahead, unlike Sirius over there."
Sirius grinned unrepentantly, leaning back on his hands. "I have an excuse. I was in a cave."
"And yet," Luna said cheerfully, pulling out a sleek black envelope, "we managed just fine."
She passed it to Harry, and he opened it curiously, his breath catching as he saw what was inside.
Six golden tickets shimmered under the moonlight.
"Are these—?"
"Quidditch World Cup tickets," Neville confirmed, grinning. "Top box."
Harry gaped at them. "But—how?"
"We all chipped in," Theo said smugly. "And convinced Xeno to be our 'responsible guardian.'"
"That was my idea," Luna added proudly, nodding. "Daddy was happy to help, though he did ask if we could search for heliopaths while we're there."
"And of course," Theo smirked, "Blaise wouldn't accept anything less than the best seats in the stadium."
Blaise sniffed dramatically. "Obviously. I have standards."
Harry shook his head, laughing. "You guys are ridiculous."
"And yet," Theo said, grinning, "you're excited, aren't you?"
Harry grinned back. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."
Sirius watched the exchange with a fond smile, but after a moment, his expression shifted—becoming almost hesitant.
Clearing his throat, he reached into his pocket.
"I, uh… didn't have time to get you something," he admitted, voice slightly hoarse. "But I did ask Grimbok to retrieve something from my personal vault."
He pulled out a well-worn leather photo album and passed it to Harry.
Harry hesitated, his breath caught in his throat.
The first image was of his parents.
James and Lily Potter stood in front of a large fountain, laughing as James spun Lily around, her red hair fanning out behind her.
Another image showed them at their wedding, James grinning like an idiot as he dipped Lily into a dramatic kiss.
A picture of his parents holding baby Harry, his tiny hands waving in excitement as James bounced him gently.
Harry felt something in his chest tighten, his throat closing up.
"I didn't know if you had any photos," Sirius said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "But I thought… you should have these."
Harry swallowed, his fingers tightening on the album. "I… I don't…"
Sirius pulled him into a hug. "You look just like him, you know." His voice wavered slightly. "But you have Lily's eyes. Same warmth. Same kindness."
Harry clenched his jaw, trying to push down the lump in his throat.
They stayed like that for a moment—just two lost souls, clinging to a memory of a family they once had.
Despite the emotions, Harry thought this was the best birthday he ever celebrated.
~
The second week of August brought an unexpected blessing—Mrs. Figg was gone on holiday.
She had been so furious over one of her cats being killed by Dudley's pellet gun that she sent the others to a shelter before storming off on a last-minute trip, leaving no one to spy on Harry.
He had a real chance to leave without anyone knowing for at least a couple of weeks.
Vernon and Dudley had left the house an hour ago, likely gorging themselves at some greasy diner while Petunia stayed behind, furiously scrubbing non-existent dirt from the kitchen counters.
Harry watched her silently, the pen and parchment in his hands feeling heavier than they should.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and placed them on the table.
"I need you to sign this," he said, keeping his voice calm and level. "It's a letter of permission, saying I can spend the rest of the summer with my friend Luna and her father."
Petunia froze, her thin shoulders stiffening before she turned to him, her pinched face twisting into a sneer.
"And why," she asked, voice dripping with thinly veiled hostility, "should I do that?"
Harry met her gaze, feeling a strange, detached sense of calm.
"Because if you do," he said slowly, "I won't ever come back."
A sharp silence filled the room.
For the first time, Petunia really looked at him—not with contempt, not with resentment, but with something… different.
Harry wasn't a defenceless child anymore.
He was taller, stronger, his presence unshakable in a way that hadn't been before.
And, for the first time, she knew she had no power over him.
Her jaw clenched, her knuckles white as she snatched up the pen.
"Fine!" she snapped, scrawling her name onto the parchment with sharp, angry strokes.
She slammed the pen down on the table and shoved the letter toward him. "There. Take it. And don't you dare come back."
Harry took the letter, folded it carefully, and slipped it into his pocket.
Then, he looked her dead in the eye.
"I hope I never see you again."
Petunia's lips thinned, but she didn't say a word.
She just turned away, picking up the same damn cloth and scrubbing the same spot on the counter over and over.
Harry lingered for only a second before turning on his heel and walking away.
No more cold glares, no more locked cupboards, no more hushed whispers about 'freakishness' behind closed doors.
He was free.
And yet…
As he passed by the small, narrow cupboard under the stairs, his feet slowed.
His fingers hovered over the handle.
For a brief moment, he was eight years old again, curled up in the dark, listening to the sound of laughter and television from the other side of the door, wondering what he had done to deserve this.
His hand tightened.
Then—
He let go.
He didn't need to open it.
He didn't need to look inside.
That part of his life was over.
With a deep breath, Harry turned away and walked up the stairs—never looking back.
Everything he owned, everything that actually mattered, had to fit in this trunk.
Everything was ready.
He took one last look around the small, miserable room that had been his for the past twelve years.
Lifting his hand he deactivated all the wards and erased all of the runes and enchantments etched into the door.
Harry exhaled slowly, then whispered, "Tilly."
With a soft pop, his faithful elf appeared, her big eyes blinking up at him. "Young Master is ready?"
"Yeah," Harry said, voice firm. "Take me home."
Tilly smiled. "As you wish, Master Harry."
With one last glance at the place that had been his prison, Harry grabbed his trunk—
And vanished.
~
The cottage was silent, the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore the only thing filling the air.
Harry sat on the edge of his bed, listening for any movement from the room next door.
Sirius had fallen asleep hours ago, exhausted after spending the evening laughing and reminiscing about James and Lily.
This was the first time in years Sirius had slept without constantly jerking awake, his instincts dulled by months of peace at the cove.
Which meant Harry had time.
Keeping his movements silent, he grabbed a bag of raw basilisk meat from his enchanted trunk and whispered, "Tilly."
With a pop, the little elf appeared, her big eyes shining in the moonlight. "Young Master is ready?"
"Yeah," Harry said softly, pulling his veil over both of them. "Take me to the dragon."
The rush of magical transport faded as they appeared in the deep, cavernous tunnels of Gringotts, the air damp and stale.
The familiar scent of soot and cold iron filled his nose as Harry took a step forward, his magic reaching out instinctively.
The cavern was empty, just as it always was—no goblins patrolling this deep, no carts coming down at this hour.
Still, Harry checked.
Stretching his magic outward, he felt only the presence of the dragon.
The heavy chains clinked as the massive figure stirred, nostrils flaring as it picked up Harry's scent.
A low, wary croon filled the space.
"It's me," Harry called softly, stepping into the dim light cast by the glowing crystals embedded in the cavern walls. "I brought food." Unlike Nox, this dragon hasn't been around spoken English constantly. Parseltongue was the only communication it understood instinctively.
The dragon shifted, its enormous head turning toward him, half-blind eyes blinking slowly.
The first few visits, the creature had been wary, nervous, reacting to any movement with tension and unease.
But now, it relaxed at the sound of Harry's voice, no longer pulling at its chains in fear.
Harry slowly approached, setting the bag of basilisk meat down on the stone floor.
"Go on," he encouraged gently, stepping back to give the dragon space.
With a grateful huff, the dragon reached forward, its long tongue curling around the meat, devouring it quickly.
Harry watched quietly, his heart heavy as he noted the bony ridges along its spine, the unnatural paleness of its scales, and the deep wounds where the chains dug into its flesh.
As the dragon ate, Harry sat cross-legged on the ground, leaning back on his hands, looking up at the cavern ceiling.
"You would like the sky," he murmured, watching as the dragon perked up slightly. "It's endless, you know. Vast and full of stars."
The dragon paused, chewing slower. "The sky..." it whispered, its voice rough and unused.
"Yeah," Harry said, smiling softly. "Nox loves the sky. She flies faster than I can blink sometimes. I think she'd like you."
The dragon let out a soft, longing sound, shifting its massive body, trying to get comfortable despite the weight of its chains.
"She must be... happy," it said after a long pause. "To fly."
Harry swallowed thickly, his chest tightening. "Yeah... she is."
There was a long silence before the dragon spoke again, this time, its voice quieter—almost... shy.
"Can you tell me... about it?"
Harry blinked, a bit surprised. "About the sky?"
A slow nod.
Harry's smile softened as he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Alright. But I warn you, once I start talking, I might not stop."
The dragon let out something that almost sounded like a huff of amusement, curling its tail around itself as it settled in to listen.
And so, Harry told stories.
Stories of blue skies stretching forever, of golden sunrises and pink-streaked sunsets, of the way the wind felt against your skin, and how the moon reflected on the ocean like a path to the stars.
As the dragon listened, Harry let his magic drift outward, checking the cavern's surroundings, making sure no goblins were coming down.
But as his magic spread, something... strange happened.
A familiar pull tugged at the edges of his awareness. Dark magic.
And not just any dark magic, this felt familiar. Like a whisper of something he had already faced.
His stomach twisted.
He turned his head sharply, his eyes locking onto the massive Lestrange vault.
The magic was coming from inside.
His breath hitched, a sinking feeling settling in his gut.
It felt like...
The diary.
Like Tom.
His heart pounded painfully, and for a moment, he felt a sharp ache of grief.
He couldn't see inside the vault. He couldn't confirm what it was. But...
Something dark was locked away in there.
A sudden, warm puff of air against his face broke his trance.
Harry's eyes snapped open.
The dragon's face was close—closer than ever before.
Its half-blind eyes searched his expression, its nostrils flaring slightly, taking in his scent, his magic, his emotions.
Harry blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected trust.
"...Can I touch you?" he asked softly.
The dragon was silent for a moment.
Then, it exhaled, long and slow, the warm air ruffling Harry's hair.
Harry reached out cautiously, fingers brushing against the cool scales of the dragon's snout.
It flinched, just barely.
Then, it stilled, allowing his touch.
Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry this happened to you," he murmured, his magic humming softly beneath his skin, instinctively sending a gentle pulse of warmth and comfort into the creature.
The dragon was quiet, unmoving beneath his touch.
Then, in a voice softer than before, it whispered, "It's how it has always been."
Harry's fingers clenched slightly.
Because that was the saddest thing he'd ever heard.
And then the dragon shifted, hesitated... then spoke again.
"Can you... be my mother too? Like your Nox?"
Harry's breath caught in his throat and his vision blurred with tears.
A shaky breath left him. "Yes."
The dragon exhaled, as if it had been holding its breath, and slowly lowered its head, pressing its snout gently against Harry's shoulder.
"Of course I will."
For the next couple of hours, they talked in whispers, Harry describing the sky, the stars, the world beyond the cavern, and the dragon listening, asking quiet questions.
But then his magic flared.
Someone was coming.
He turned his head sharply, senses stretching outward—a cart was moving.
Quickly, Harry leaned forward, pressing his palm against the dragon's scales. "I have to go," he whispered. "But I'll be back."
The dragon made a low, almost pleading sound, but it nodded.
"Warmth," it murmured softly.
Understanding, Harry called forth his fire magic, letting it spread gently over the dragon's scales, warming instead of burning.
The dragon huffed contentedly, curling in on itself, tail wrapping around its body.
Harry smiled faintly. "Goodnight, hatchling."
With one last glance, he turned to Tilly. "Take me home, please."
With a final, quiet pop, Harry was gone.
~
That night Harry dreamt of an elderly man eavesdropping, a voice hidden by the large back of a chair and someone opening the door, exposing the muggle, allowing for that familiar voice to kill him with a sickening green light. He suddenly woke up to a searing pain in his scar.
He didn't fall back asleep.
~
The morning air was crisp, the sky tinged with the soft hues of dawn as Harry stood on the cliffs of the cove, watching the waves crash against the rocks below.
It was the 25th of August, and after spending the past few weeks finally free from the Dursleys, it was time to meet up with his friends and head to the Quidditch World Cup.
Sirius emerged from the cottage then, stretching and ruffling his hair.
"Alright, pup, ready to go?" he asked, smirking. "Or do you need another emotional goodbye with your overgrown fire-breathing daughter?"
Nox snorted, the force sending a gust of hot air toward Sirius, making him stumble back with a laugh.
"Oi!" Sirius grinned. "At least wait until I insult you properly before trying to roast me alive."
Harry shook his head in amusement before stepping forward and pulling Sirius into a quick hug.
"Try not to drive Tilly mad while I'm gone, yeah?"
Sirius pulled back with a mock-wounded expression. "Excuse you, I am a delight to be around."
"You keep leaving your clothes on the kitchen table," Harry deadpanned.
"...Fine. Tilly might be a little mad at me."
Harry laughed before placing a hand on Nox's snout one last time. "I'll be back soon, I promise."
She crooned softly, nuzzling into his touch, before stepping back as Harry grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder and stepped into the fireplace.
"The Rookery!"
As soon as he arrived, Harry stepped out of the Lovegood's fireplace, dusting soot off his travel robes.
Xeno was standing nearby, watching Harry with his usual dreamy expression.
But there was something... sheepish in his gaze.
Harry sighed. "Morning, Mr. Lovegood."
Xeno perked up. "Good morning, Harry! I trust the Nargles didn't try to interfere with your travel?"
Harry chuckled. "Nope, I think I managed to avoid them."
Xeno nodded sagely. "Very good, very good."
The man hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat. "And... I know I haven't been the most present father at times, but... I truly am grateful that Luna has such a good friend in you, Harry."
Harry blinked, caught off guard.
After everything that happened last year—Luna's worsening visions, her breakdown after the Dementor attack, the stress of the time-turner's interference—Xeno had been making an effort to be more present.
And while Harry still had reservations, he could admit the man was trying.
So, instead of brushing it off, Harry simply gave him a small smile.
"You've been doing better," he said honestly. "And that's what matters."
Xeno's shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. "Thank you, Harry."
Before the conversation could continue, the fireplace flared again, and soon Neville, Blaise, and Theo stepped out one by one.
"Alright, Potter, let's get moving," Theo smirked, adjusting his travel cloak. "We've got a portkey to catch."
The group set off across the rolling hills, heading toward the designated portkey site.
It was about a mile away, and while most of them were used to long walks, Neville kept stopping every few minutes to admire the local fauna, his fingers twitching toward his herbology kit.
"Neville, no!" Luna giggled, grabbing his arm and pulling him along.
"But that's a—"
"You can study it later, we're going to miss the portkey!"
Blaise, on the other hand, was not handling the walk well.
"Someone of my station shouldn't have to sweat," he whined dramatically, leaning against Harry. "Potter, carry me, would you?"
Harry shoved him away, laughing. "You're taller than me, you idiot."
Blaise smirked. "Oh, right. Guess that means you're too short to be useful."
Harry rolled his eyes and shoved him again, making Theo snort in amusement.
They continued walking, the atmosphere light and playful—until they were suddenly intercepted.
Arthur Weasley and his brood of redheads were approaching with Amos and Cedric Diggory, heading toward their own portkey site.
The moment Ron spotted Harry, his face twisted in anger.
"Are we not good enough for you, then?" he sneered.
Harry blinked in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
Arthur coughed awkwardly. "Er, well, we sent you a ticket through the Muggle post, inviting you to the World Cup with us."
Harry frowned. "I never got a letter. I haven't been at the house for a while."
"Probably got lost," Theo muttered under his breath, eyes sharp.
Harry's gaze hardened. "And why would you invite me? I specifically asked for Ron to be kept away from me."
Arthur looked uncomfortable, glancing at Ron, who was glaring daggers at Harry.
"We were hoping you'd stay at the Burrow for the rest of the summer," Arthur admitted. "Dumbledore said it was alright, and we thought we could mend some—"
"Dumbledore is my headmaster, not my guardian," Harry interrupted coldly, hoping they didn't know otherwise. "My aunt already signed a letter giving me permission to stay with the Lovegoods. Thank you for the offer, but I won't be held hostage by Ron and Molly at the Burrow."
Xeno, who had been watching silently, suddenly stepped forward.
"Harry is in my care, and I won't have anyone trying to take him elsewhere," he said, his usual dreamy demeanour gone, replaced by steely determination.
Arthur sighed, defeated. "I understand. I apologise for overstepping."
Harry gave Xeno a grateful look, and the man simply patted his shoulder. "You're always welcome here, Harry. You know that."
The tension dissipated as the two groups finally parted ways, heading toward their respective portkeys.
Just before they separated, Cedric offered Harry a beaming smile. "See you later, Harry."
Harry nodded back. "Yeah, see you."
"Alright, we really must go," Theo said quickly, grabbing Harry's arm and steering him toward their portkey.
Harry raised an eyebrow at him but didn't question it.
They reached the old boot sitting on the hill, and at the same time, Xeno counted down.
"Three… two… one—"
And the world spun away.
The moment the Portkey dropped them onto the ground, Harry staggered, barely catching himself before he hit the dirt.
"Alright, never getting used to that," Theo muttered, straightening his robes with a sigh.
"At least no one landed face-first this time," Neville pointed out, grinning.
They had arrived at the campsite, surrounded by the buzz of excited wizards from all over the world, the air alive with magic and anticipation for the Quidditch World Cup final.
Xeno led them to their designated tent spot, and as they started setting up, Harry couldn't help but feel giddy.
The tent, courtesy of Xeno, was far from ordinary—it had strange charms causing the fabric to shimmer in different colours, and at one point, it tilted slightly on its own before fixing itself.
"I told the Nargles to stay out of the frame this time," Xeno said proudly. "But I can't guarantee they listened."
Theo just sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "This is going to be a long weekend."
Just as they were finishing up, Neville groaned, looking to the side.
"Tell me that's not what I think it is," he said, already sounding defeated.
Harry followed his gaze.
Not ten feet away, the Weasleys were setting up their own tents.
"This is torture," Theo grumbled. "There's an entire bloody field, and they have to be right next to us?"
"Could be worse," Blaise said, stretching. "Ron could try to talk to you."
As if on cue, Ron turned and spotted them. His expression twisted into a sneer.
"Following us, Potter?" he snapped, voice loud enough to turn a few heads nearby.
Harry sighed heavily. "We got here first, Weasley."
Arthur Weasley stepped forward, looking sheepish. "Ron, why don't you go find Seamus and Dean. Take your sister with you."
But before he could reply, Ginny interjected.
"Dad, I don't want to go with Ron—" she said, her gaze fixated on Harry with a hopeful look. "I can stay here, right?"
Arthur firmly shook his head. "No, Ginny. You're going with Ron."
Ginny pouted but didn't argue, sending Harry one last longing glance before following Ron toward Seamus and Dean.
Once back in their tent, the group settled into the cosy space, their belongings scattered around the enchanted living room.
Theo crossed his arms, looking serious. "I need to tell you all something."
That got everyone's attention.
"Before I left, my father was... acting strange," Theo admitted, voice low. "There were people in the manor—old friends of his. I could tell something was being planned, but I had to leave before I could overhear what it was."
Blaise narrowed his eyes. "Old friends?"
Theo nodded. "His old crowd. The ones who stuck with the Dark Lord until the very end. Something is happening, but I don't know what yet."
Luna, sitting cross-legged on one of the floating cushions, tilted her head. "The pieces are already falling into place," she murmured. "Everything is already set in motion."
Harry exchanged glances with the others before sighing. "Then all we can do is stay alert."
Later that morning, Harry was walking back to the tent when he was suddenly blocked by two tall, broad-shouldered figures.
Before he could react, Fred and George popped up behind them.
"Oi, don't scare him," Fred said, grinning. "Harry, meet our dear elder brothers—"
"Bill," said the taller, ponytailed redhead, giving Harry an easy going smile.
"And Charlie," said the stockier, slightly shorter one with strong arms and a smirk that screamed trouble.
Harry blinked up at them.
Bill looked every bit the cool, rogue curse-breaker, his dragon fang earring catching the light, while Charlie exuded the kind of rough-and-tumble energy that made him seem like he belonged in a dragon's den more than a wizard's home.
"So, you're the famous Harry Potter," Bill said, eyes twinkling. "We've heard loads about you."
"All bad things, of course," Charlie added. "Mostly from Mum and Ron."
Harry, who had been completely fine dealing with life-threatening situations, found himself feeling slightly shy.
"You're a curse-breaker," he said, looking at Bill with interest. "I wanted to be an archaeologist when I was younger—curse-breaking is basically the magical version, right?"
Bill chuckled. "You'd be surprised how much digging we actually do."
Harry turned to Charlie, eyes lighting up. "And you work with dragons."
Charlie grinned. "That I do."
That was all it took for Harry to launch into a flurry of questions.
"Do you work with Norwegian Ridgebacks? Have there ever been cases of dragons showing magical abilities beyond their natural fire-breathing? What about healing blindness in dragons, ones that have been held in captivity? Say a Ukranian Ironbelly?"
Charlie stared at him for a moment, then broke into a huge grin. "Merlin's beard, you actually know your stuff!"
Luna, who had been listening with an amused smile, clapped her hands together. "You should come into our tent! We can talk all about dragons."
The twins, clearly not interested in academic discussions, gave exaggerated sighs.
"You lost us at Ironbellies," George muttered.
"We'll leave you nerds to it," Fred added, dragging his twin away. "We've got mischief to make."
Inside the Lovegood tent, the discussion continued.
"You know," Bill said, watching Harry carefully. "Your questions were awfully specific. Have you ever been deep inside Gringotts?"
Harry tensed slightly but kept his expression neutral. "I've seen a dragon from the cart before," he admitted. "I heard its voice... it was hungry, and in pain. When I got closer, I saw its eyes were milky white."
Charlie's expression darkened immediately. "They're keeping an abused dragon in the bank?"
Bill rubbed his face, sighing. "It's more complicated than that. The goblins don't take kindly to wizards meddling in their affairs, and that dragon technically belongs to Gringotts as a vault guardian. There's nothing we can do."
"That's not good enough," Charlie growled. "If I'd known—"
"We can't just storm in and take it," Bill interrupted. "It would start a war."
Harry hesitated before saying softly, "I already talked to a goblin about it. The clan in charge of the dragon is dangerous. They don't care about its suffering."
Charlie looked furious, but after a moment, he sighed. "Damn it."
Then, as if only just processing something, his expression changed.
"Wait—you said you heard its voice?"
Harry nodded. "Parseltongue is close enough to communicate with dragons."
Charlie practically vibrated with excitement. "You can talk to dragons?"
He scooted closer, eyes wide. "Tell me everything."
Blaise smirked, watching from the side. "I don't think I've ever seen someone match Harry's enthusiasm about dragons before."
This was going to be a very interesting World Cup.
~
The excitement buzzed through the air as Harry and the others made their way to the Top Box. The entire stadium was a marvel of magical construction, towering stands held together with invisible enchantments, banners rippling in the wind, and thousands of wizards from all over the world cheering and chanting in anticipation.
"This is insane," Theo murmured, taking in the massive stadium with an impressed look. "Even the Colosseum didn't seat this many people."
"I can practically feel the magic in the air," Neville added, adjusting his omnioculars. "This is going to be incredible."
"And loud," Luna said dreamily. "But the Wrackspurts are particularly excited about the game. I think they like the Irish team's colours."
Harry grinned, shaking his head.
As they made their way to their seats, a familiar drawling voice rang out.
"Well, if it isn't Potter and his little band of misfits," Draco sneered, standing near his father. "Tell me, how does it feel to have a seat in the Top Box thanks to the charity."
Harry didn't even slow his stride, barely giving Draco a glance. "Oh, were you talking? I tend to tune out background noise."
Theo and Blaise smirked, while Neville rolled his eyes.
Draco's face twisted in irritation. "Honestly, Zabini, Nott—I'd have thought you had more self-respect than to lower yourselves by associating with the likes of him."
Blaise snorted. "Draco, I'm shocked. You think I care about what you think?"
"And yet," Theo added lazily, "we're the ones enjoying our evening while you're over here, sulking because your father keeps you on a leash."
Draco flushed red, looking to Lucius for backup.
The elder Malfoy regarded Harry with sharp, assessing eyes, his lip curling slightly in disdain. "Potter, always such an interesting character. I was surprised to see you here, given your... limited social connections."
Harry gave Lucius a slow, unimpressed look. "And yet here we are, Lord Malfoy. Both in the same place. You must be beside yourself with embarrassment."
Theo coughed, barely hiding his laugh, while Blaise outright grinned.
Lucius' expression turned cold, but before he could say anything else, Fudge came bounding over, greeting him with excessive enthusiasm.
"Ah, Lucius, my dear friend! So good to see you—oh, and young Draco!"
Harry took full advantage of the distraction, smirking as he turned away. "Enjoy the game, Draco. Try not to choke on your family's disappointment."
Lucius shot him a venomous glare, but Harry was already walking away, enjoying the way Draco fumed silently.
The Top Box was filling up quickly, with figures like Ludo Bagman and the Bulgarian Minister taking their places.
As Harry and the others settled into their seats, his attention was drawn to a peculiar scene.
A house-elf, dressed in a ragged tea towel, was wringing her hands anxiously, standing in front of a single empty seat. Every time someone tried to sit down, she would panic and usher them away.
"Strange," Harry murmured, watching as a particularly pushy wizard stormed up to her.
"Do not speak to me, elf!" the wizard barked at the trembling Winky, about to grab her. "That seat is empty, and I will sit where I please!"
Before he could push his way in, Harry stood up and walked over.
"That seat was paid for," he said coldly, fixing the man with a hard stare. "You're not entitled to it just because you want it. Now, leave." Flaring his magic around the man.
The wizard stammered, caught off guard, then glared at Harry before stalking away.
Winky looked up at him, wide-eyed. "M-Master is very kind to help Winky!"
Harry offered her a small smile but then frowned.
Something felt off.
His magic was sensing something in the seat next to her, a subtle but distinct presence. Someone was sitting there.
But there was nothing visible.
He wasn't going to pry, so he just gave Winky a reassuring nod. "It's no trouble. Just try not to let anyone push you around."
As he returned to his seat, he noticed Luna staring intently at the same spot, her usually dreamy expression oddly focused.
"Luna?" Harry asked, nudging her.
She blinked and looked at him, seeming a little dazed. "There was something there... but now it's gone."
Harry glanced back at the seat, then sighed. "Not the weirdest thing I've seen."
The pre-match festivities kicked off with a dazzling display from the Veelas, Bulgaria's mascots.
The moment they stepped onto the field, a wave of unnatural beauty and allure spread over the crowd.
Harry felt nothing.
But when he turned to his friends—
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," he muttered.
Blaise, Theo, and Neville were entranced, their eyes glazed over as they leaned forward, looking like they were about to fling themselves off the edge of the box.
"Sit down," Harry hissed, grabbing Theo and Blaise's robes before they could stand.
Luna, unbothered as always, helped drag Neville back. "Honestly, boys, it's like you've never seen a Veela before," she said serenely.
Harry glanced sideways at Blaise, who was staring at him intently, his dark eyes sharp.
It took half a second for Harry to realise why.
Veela don't affect people who aren't attracted to women.
Blaise knew that.
Catching Harry's mildly horrified look, Blaise grinned knowingly but—thankfully—said nothing.
Instead, he simply adjusted his robes and smirked. "Well, that was an experience," he drawled, watching the retreating Veela with detached amusement. "Harry, do you ever get affected by anything?"
"Not easily," Harry muttered, avoiding his eyes.
Luna hummed, looking between them. "The Wrackspurts tell me that Harry's magic is very selective about who it reacts to," she mused. "Or perhaps it's just his heart that is."
Harry flushed slightly and decided he was very interested in the game starting now.
The announcers finally called out the teams, and the atmosphere erupted.
"AND HERE COME THE IRISH TEAM!"
The entire stadium exploded into cheers, emerald banners flashing as the players soared onto the field in a blur of green and gold.
"AND NOW—THE BULGARIAN NATIONAL TEAM!"
A roar of approval greeted the Bulgarian players, though most eyes immediately landed on one player—
"KRUM!"
The excitement was infectious, and Harry found himself grinning widely as the game began.
Theo, now fully recovered from the Veela incident, adjusted his omnioculars. "Well, if we don't get murdered by mind-controlling creatures, this is already shaping up to be a brilliant night."
"You mean besides the fact that Malfoy is two rows behind us glaring daggers at you?" Neville said dryly.
"Oh, that just makes it better," Theo replied smugly.
Harry just shook his head, settling in for what promised to be one of the best Quidditch games in history.
~
The game had been nothing short of spectacular. The Irish Chasers were a force of nature, passing the Quaffle between them so seamlessly that the Bulgarian Beaters could barely keep up. Krum, as expected, was a master in the air, and had the entire stadium on the edge of their seats.
But in the end, despite Krum catching the Snitch, Ireland took the victory due to their overwhelming lead in points.
The stadium erupted in cheers, with fireworks bursting overhead in brilliant greens and golds as the Irish team soared through the air in triumph.
Harry had never seen anything so exhilarating in his life.
Back at the campsite, the atmosphere was electric. Bonfires roared, people laughed, and the scent of roasted meats and butterbeer filled the air. Wizards of all ages danced and celebrated, with even goblins and other magical creatures mingling among the crowd.
Harry sat with his friends, a soft smile on his face. He looked around at them—Luna, Theo, Blaise, and Neville—his family by choice, and felt immensely grateful.
"Thank you," he said suddenly, making the others pause. "For the tickets."
Luna tilted her head, smiling. "There's nothing to thank us for, Harry. We wanted to share this with you."
"Besides," Blaise added smoothly, "we needed to see the look on your face when Krum did that Wronski Feint. It was worth every Galleon."
Harry huffed a laugh, shaking his head.
As they sat around the bonfire, Charlie Weasley appeared, grinning widely as he took a seat next to Harry.
"Alright, Harry," Charlie said eagerly. "I've been thinking—do you think you could teach me some Parseltongue?"
Theo and Blaise exchanged looks, while Luna just watched with curiosity.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why? Planning to sweet-talk a dragon?"
Charlie grinned shamelessly. "You never know when it might come in handy."
Harry considered for a moment before nodding. "Alright. Try saying 'calm' in Parseltongue."
Charlie attempted the phrase, but the sounds came out mangled.
Harry burst into laughter, shaking his head. "Not bad, but you just told the dragon that its round."
Charlie groaned. "Damn. Let me try again."
He kept trying, failing miserably, but his enthusiasm never wavered.
"Do you mind if I tell the other dragon keepers about this?" Charlie asked between attempts.
Harry shrugged. "Go ahead. But good luck getting them to say anything that doesn't sound absurd."
Charlie just laughed, determined to keep practicing.
The night was shattered by a sudden, piercing scream.
Harry shot up instantly, his heart hammering.
"What was that?" Neville asked, eyes wide.
More screams erupted, followed by the thundering sound of running footsteps.
Theo cursed under his breath. "Something's wrong."
They turned as Xenophilius Lovegood came running toward them, his normally serene face lined with panic.
"You need to get to the woods—now!" he panted. "Anti-Apparition wards have been raised. The camp is under attack!"
Harry grabbed Luna's arm instinctively, pulling her close. "Who?"
Theo's face paled, his fists clenched. "It's the Death Eaters," he said grimly. "I knew my father was planning something. If he's here, I'm dead if he sees me."
Harry's stomach twisted, but he forced himself to stay focused.
"Grab your things. Now," he ordered.
Charlie, looking horrified, turned to Harry. "I should go back to my family."
Harry nodded quickly. "Go. Be safe."
Charlie disappeared into the chaos, while Harry and the others ran toward the woods, ducking between tents as masked figures in black robes marched through the camp, casting spells and setting things ablaze.
As they moved, Harry suddenly froze, his eyes locking onto a horrific sight.
A Muggle family—a father, mother, and two children—were levitated into the air, tossed around like ragdolls, their terrified screams piercing the night as the Death Eaters mocked and laughed.
Harry's hands clenched into fists, his magic coiling inside of him, begging to be unleashed.
"Harry, don't," Theo said urgently, grabbing his arm. "We have to keep moving."
His chest ached. His hands shook.
He had the power to stop it.
But his friends came first.
With a heavy heart, Harry turned away, forcing himself to keep running.
They reached the edge of the woods, hidden from view, when Luna suddenly grabbed Harry's hands, her normally distant gaze teary and pleading.
"You can't let them suffer, Harry," she whispered. "Please."
His heart clenched painfully.
He looked back at the camp, the Muggles still screaming. Looking around to make sure no one was watching.
Harry took a deep breath, then shoved his hands into the earth.
Power surged through him, racing through the soil.
Across the field, vines exploded from the ground, snaking toward the Death Eater tormenting the Muggles.
The masked man let out a startled yell as the vines wrapped around his body, dragging him down into the dirt until only his head and shoulders were visible.
Several other Death Eaters turned, eyes widening in horror before they fled, abandoning their trapped comrade.
It was satisfying, but Harry felt no joy in it.
"Harry, we need to go!" Neville pulled at his arm. "Now!"
Harry nodded, his body tense, his heart still aching.
As they turned to leave, one figure remained behind, hidden in the shadows—
Watching.
And he had just witnessed everything.
~
"TILLY! KIP! MARBY!"
The house-elf popped into existence immediately, her large eyes filled with worry.
"Master Harry!"
"Get everyone out of here," Harry ordered quickly. "We're splitting up—two per elf!" Xeno now caught up to them.
Two more Potter elves appeared—Kip and Marby, their ears twitching in nervousness.
"Take them to the Rookery. Now!"
There was no hesitation.
Each elf grabbed a pair of them, and with a loud crack, they disappeared from the chaos, only to land safely back at the Rookery.
For a moment, no one moved, the weight of what had happened settling over them.
Theo was the first to speak, his voice quiet and shaken.
"I guess we know what my father and his old friends were planning now," he whispered.
Harry closed his eyes briefly, his jaw tightening.
They had been prepared for this.
But seeing it firsthand?
It was only the beginning.
~
Despite the chaos at the Quidditch World Cup, the rest of Harry's summer had been surprisingly peaceful.
He spent as much time as possible at the cove, soaring through the skies with Nox, the sea air whipping through his hair as she dived and played, testing her ever-growing strength.
"Look at me, Mother!" Nox would croon proudly, twisting in the air with effortless grace, her scales catching the light in a way that made her look as if she had been carved from the night sky itself.
Harry would laugh, praising her, feeling pride swell within him. She was growing so fast.
He wasn't sure how much bigger she would get.
Sirius had settled well into life at the cove.
There was colour in his face again, a mischievous spark in his eyes, and he spent his time lounging on the beach, running as Padfoot across the sand, and plotting ways to annoy Harry.
"You know," Sirius had grinned one afternoon, tossing a stone into the waves, "it's not fair that I'm still a wanted man. Maybe I should make a dramatic appearance at Hogwarts? Crash the Welcoming Feast?"
"Absolutely not," Harry had deadpanned. "I already have enough people stalking me, thanks."
Sirius had laughed, but then sobering slightly, he had placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"I'll find a way to be free, pup," he had promised. "And then I'm never letting you out of my sight again."
Harry had smiled, but said nothing.
While he wasn't flying with Nox or spending time with Sirius, Harry had continued his secret visits to Gringotts.
The Ironbelly was still shackled in the darkness, but his body had grown less tense with each visit.
At first, he had been wary, still reluctant to accept the gentleness Harry offered.
But each time Harry came, bringing warm food, telling him stories of the sky, the dragon's hesitance slowly faded.
One evening, as Harry pressed a soothing hand against the dragon's snout, the massive creature let out a soft sigh.
"Mother," he whispered hesitantly.
Harry's breath caught.
It wasn't the first time the dragon had said the word, but it was the first time he had said it with certainty.
Guilt twisted in Harry's stomach.
He still hadn't figured out how to free him.
But he would.
He had to.
Theo had spent the remainder of the summer with Blaise instead of his own home.
"It's just in case my father knows I was at the World Cup with you," Theo had explained, his voice carefully neutral. "I told him I was staying with Blaise instead."
Harry didn't miss the way Theo fidgeted slightly, fingers tightening at his sleeves.
He knew that Theo's father was not a kind man, and if he knew the truth, there would be consequences.
"You could stay here instead," Harry had offered.
Theo had shaken his head. "I'd rather him assume I'm still under his thumb. If he starts questioning me, that's when I'll have to worry."
Harry had hated it—but he understood.
The last morning of summer came far too quickly.
Harry stood at the edge of the cove, Nox's large head resting heavily against his shoulder, her golden eyes dim with sadness.
"I don't want you to go," she murmured.
Harry pressed a hand against her snout, feeling her warmth through his palm.
"I'll visit as often as I can," he promised. "Tilly will bring me, and Sirius will be here with you."
Nox huffed. "He is loud."
Harry laughed, rubbing her scales. "Yes. Yes, he is."
Sirius, standing a few feet away, crossed his arms in mock offense. "I can hear you, you know."
Harry turned, grinning. "Good. I wasn't trying to be subtle."
Sirius snorted, then pulled him into a tight hug. "Take care, pup. And keep your head down."
Harry, smiling softly, nodded. "I will."
~
Harry stepped out of the Floo at King's Cross. The station was buzzing with energy, filled with students and families saying their goodbyes.
He found Luna first, who immediately flung herself at him.
"Harry!" she beamed. "I had a dream last night. We were all in a cave filled with dancing lights. It was lovely."
Harry chuckled, used to her whimsical statements. "That sounds... nice?"
Theo, Neville, and Blaise arrived moments later, smirking as they approached.
"I see you survived the summer," Theo drawled, his eyes sweeping over Harry as if assessing him for damage.
"Barely," Harry deadpanned.
Hopefully this year would be a peaceful one, he thought.