Harry—
That paper was brilliant! Honestly I was a bit overwhelmed with the sheer concept, but going over it in depth and hearing your theories about what's possible, I can only be excited! If you forgive the reminiscing for a moment, your father was undoubtedly brilliant, particularly with Transfiguration, but let me tell you now that you've left him in the dust with this for sure. Your mother and I were the bookworms of our year to a point, but mainly for the desire to do well in school inspired by inherent love of learning and magic in general; never would I have thought to even try for something like this and I highly doubt I'd have even succeeded. Your mother definitely would've had the ingenuity for something so out of the box, but even probably not until she was a full adult! You likely outshine us all with this talent and passion of yours and since I've only had a couple letters and a few memories of you as a child, I confess I was still imagining you as your parents' son. Let me tell you I'm far more blown away with the individual you actually are, and I am not at all put out by it; I'm more just thrilled at the person you're undoubtedly going to grow to be.
I have no qualms with your other plans either; in fact I support them entirely for perhaps selfish reasons. As I said, do not let me ever get in your way. I'm honored you want to push for such a lofty goal on my behalf, but I do hope it was already a dream of yours that I perhaps contributed to at most. This Transfiguration discovery of yours proves you have the ability to do whatever you want in life and I do hope you choose to do that, to your full potential. It promises to be extremely interesting!
I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear about the map too. You've said this parchment is protected somehow so I think I'll risk sharing a little more detail if you'd like; it sounds like the Weasley twins have a much better use of it at the moment but if you do end up borrowing it I can explain a bit. As you figured, I was Moony and what I'm sure you're very interested in is the fact that James was Prongs. I think the origin of the others' nicknames it's maybe a conversation safer had in person no matter if I do trust your enchanted parchment… the map could get you into some trouble at school, but to be blunt, that story could probably get you into legal trouble too. Not that it matters too much with the three involved being removed from us currently. Let's just say that James' favorite animal was a deer and we teased him greatly for it.
Also, given you may be a Transfiguration prodigy I do not want to give you any ideas; I can practically feel McGonagall's wrath already. Remind me when you start your fifth year and I'll come clean, promise.
Speaking of school, I know you had asked about me being in the muggle world which I didn't really address in my previous letter. I think you understand that giving too much information on my current whereabouts is less than ideal since my mail is very much constantly monitored, but if this letter is safe I can explain a bit more. Honestly it's not that big of difference living in the muggle world, as I still visit Diagon and St. Mungos freely, and I use magic within my home but not in the muggle public as all wizards do. You grew up in the muggle world, so you'd know the jobs are very much normal muggle jobs; currently I work in a shop and occasionally tutor. I do not have a muggle teaching certificate so it's very unofficial but I had always had an interest in learning and teaching. Most times it's A-level prep as well so I did go back to get my own muggle schooling certifications after graduating Hogwarts and not having much luck there so far as jobs go. I needed to know the muggle subjects I'd need to be tutoring people on at least! Of course I take off a couple days every month which, without proper explanation or a muggle doctor's note, normal jobs don't appreciate so I do tend to move around roles quite often. I think my favorite is always local run bookstores; they have so much character to them.
You're clearly a driven young man, but did you have any interests outside of being Minister one day then? How is school going in general? I admit I am also pretty interested in any recent pranks the twins might have pulled; if you wanted to get involved I could perhaps give a suggestion or two… of the old marauders I was the one who never got caught, or at least never got a detention for it, since it sounds like you're not quite as reckless with it as maybe James would've been. For example there was this incident with a grindylow that I maintain to this day I have no idea how it got into Flitwick's office…
…
Remus had a very particular way of writing letters, Harry found. He was always so composed and the pages long, filled with tales and this polite language Harry knew he himself didn't use very often. He liked to talk, but writing long letters wasn't exactly his thing; the journals he had with Draco were one thing as it was a live conversation almost, but writing five pages of correspondence was rough on his hand and his attention span.
He didn't know what Remus looked like but he imagined this faceless man sitting at a table and patiently writing all this out, so intent and tolerant as he took the chunk of time to sit down, draft and write an eloquent letter several pages long. Harry was almost annoyed by how little of a reaction he had to any of the harsh topics Harry had struggled so hard to write down the first time… or maybe Remus did struggle and was simply a professional at hiding it in letter form.
Harry considered himself much better at reading people rather than letters, and he did wonder what Remus would be like in person considering everything he'd learned thus far.
Remus was very diligent in responding quickly, and if ever there was a delay he was apologetic. Most of the times he gave an answer but one time he did not… Harry would've wondered if he didn't already know he'd sent his own letter the day of a full moon, and the fact it took Remus almost four days to respond back wasn't exactly unexpected. The timing sort of was though, since Harry clearly knew he'd be indisposed maybe the day of or before it for whatever preparations he did, but wondered what could be happening in the days afterwards. Maybe, as he said, his current job wasn't pleased with his absence, and he had to focus on that for a time.
Before Harry knew it they were exchanging quite a lot of letters, and while he still felt he was holding a lot back, he also found himself being honest in ways he normally wasn't. Remus seemed like a solid Gryffindor with maybe a few keen Ravenclaw habits here and there, but he was a genuinely good guy who was very like-minded with the Weasleys in his own, shier way. As a werewolf people already hated him on the most part so he too could be free to be open and accepting to others like the Weasley clan was, without fearing his reputation could somehow get worse.
That meant though, that Harry hadn't quite spoken too much on say, his finances or the fact he'd read his parents will or anything else he as a twelve-year-old Gryffindor probably shouldn't have done on his own… Remus was his godfather and while the man was, so far, totally hands off in not dictating what he did with his life, Harry still sensed that Remus would be one of those adults who might be a bit too overly concerned with him operating on his own. Like McGonagall—he trusted her a lot, but he didn't exactly go to her when he needed to go to Gringotts for a bloodline test; she'd be way too involved.
He absolutely did not even hint at the topic of Sirius Black. He knew Remus would be heavily invested at one point with the way Harry's plans were going, but the man very pointedly tip-toed around saying the supposed convict's name in his writings even when he was cheerfully recounting some tale from his days at Hogwarts. He was clearly trying to share a part of himself, trying to give Harry his own memories of his father, and the unchangeable fact was that in each and every one of those memories Sirius Black had been right there. Every prank and quidditch match and failed date with his mother, Harry knew when Remus talked about James Potter's adventures that Sirius Black had been right beside him, an invisible part of the story that was being told. Unmentioned but irrefutably there, though it seemed Remus was purposefully trying to erase him from the way the tales were recounted.
Harry could've been angry that Remus was heavily redacting stories meant to bring him closer to the man his father had once been, but he wasn't. Somehow… like he'd been blessed with a moment of skill in divination, he could almost feel Remus' pain. How each carefully tailored story stepped around Sirius Black and the cutting and editing caused him near physical pain to do so. How it hurt the werewolf to remember the past in the first place but was making an effort so Harry could hear more about his father.
It was easy to believe Remus just didn't want to burden him with the tale of what Sirius Black had supposedly done and didn't want to broach the topic at all right now, with Harry being this young. Not over letter at least.
It was even easier to believe that Remus still felt pain over losing everyone in one night and was avoiding needing to have that horrifically agonizing conversation with someone he'd held as a babe.
Harry knew a thing or two about running away. He couldn't exactly hold it against the man.
So, Harry was definitely holding back and he felt some amount of guilt over it. Turnabout's fair play though as Harry knew Remus was holding back too… not just about Sirius Black but also when he talked about what he was doing with his life and some of his highly underplayed summaries, like when he said things like 'last minute trips to the ministry' or 'wasn't able to pick up that potion ingredient' or whatever else it was he was doing when talking about his days. Harry knew from Daphne that the ministry occasionally 'arrested' werewolves just to interrogate them and make sure they knew they were being watched before kicking them out the door again, harassing them essentially because no one thought that was an asshole thing to do and dismissed it as "keeping an eye on dangerous creatures" or some bullshit. He also knew most stores in Diagon refused to sell to dark creatures so when Remus casually mentioned he struggled to get something to complete whatever project he was working on, Harry could fill in the blanks about what store had refused him service and what might've been said.
Over time he developed a low-key hatred of Diagon Alley to be honest. He didn't know which stores were on his shit list as Remus was far too vague, but he had a very Lucius Malfoy-like urge to become Minister with all haste and levy some unreasonable taxes on some certain people someday. Actually, he didn't even know if that was a power the Minister of Magic had…
I should probably look into that, he thought in chagrin.
For as much as they didn't say to each other in this weird dance they did to keep their letters an even, warm-hearted correspondence, Harry was really taken off guard by how much he did end up saying. Using Nick's very graciously provided parchment that was protected from prying eyes even if they knew Remus' mail was 100% being monitored, Harry found himself in conversations he never in a hundred years would've thought he was ready to talk about.
First, Remus was a lot like McGonagall in how he treated Harry's intellect as that of an equal, not a child to talk down to or explain things to in a condescending way. He did have some really good explanations for things, even better than McGonagall on some topics as apparently he'd been a very good student once, but he was not a Transfiguration teacher nor even an expert or anything like that. There was a ton of topics he was no authority on, and in fact had either forgotten since it'd been over a decade since his last test on the subject or had never learned in the first place given how deep into the topic Harry himself was—far beyond what the Hogwarts curriculum dictated, that's for sure. In that case Remus turned into an excellent brain-storming partner, creating his own wild theories in response to Harry's own, and even if Harry went about trying and failing to make progress with them, his eagerness and creativity to spitball some crazy ideas of his own as suggestions for Harry's work was actually a ton of fun.
Some part of Harry recognized Remus as a teacher or mentor of sorts… but on Transfiguration at least he never claimed to be better or a figure of authority on the subject compared to Harry himself. In fact many times he simply asked for more detail or explanation on things Harry was talking about, and quickly came around to just deferring to his expertise rather than claiming he, as the "adult", should know more or some nonsense. He was a very gracious 'teacher' in that sense at least.
But what really caught Harry's attention was how up-to-date Remus was on muggle topics too, since his side gig was to tutor privately. Rather selfishly Harry zeroed in on the potential of that, wondering if Remus could help him take his own muggle A-levels in the future, given having options in both worlds was simply good planning—you never knew what you'd need and despite it not being his favorite subject he was pretty sure that math was critically important to be a functioning adult. And for some reason it was only taught optionally at the UK's "premier" wizarding school once you turned thirteen.
Remus was very deflective when talking about his work and Harry already knew he undersold himself quite a lot. He didn't outright say it but he did ask curiously after certain topics which Remus was happy to help with, and Harry started dropping hints and compliments about his teaching skills, hoping he'd either get the idea or be inspired himself. He very much didn't want to push though as Remus seemed… well, like a pushover honestly, and Harry wasn't about to actually go trampling on him since pretty much everyone else already seemed happy to do that. If he didn't acknowledge the hints then Harry knew he didn't want to talk about it and was fine to leave it at that.
Maybe he'd pick up a copy of a muggle curriculum somewhere and then just ask Remus specific questions about it as he went.
He felt a lot less motivation to do that compared to his Transfiguration work though, which was more of a hobby at this point. Extra school work had no appeal to him despite him logically knowing it was important; he didn't know if he'd actually do it without a teacher holding him accountable, honestly. He was already thinking he had too much going on this year to focus on it but some part of him recognized he'd always find a way to procrastinate if he didn't actually want to do it… which he didn't really. He just knew it was important is all.
Aside from academic work though, Remus was also a surprisingly sympathetic ear. He'd asked after any friends Harry had made, and before he knew it Harry was spilling pretty much his entire stream of consciousness about everyone he knew. It hadn't started off that way but something about Remus was just… open, and unrealistically easy to confide in, so that before he really realized what he was doing, he'd already told Remus everything.
Meeting Hagrid for the first time, his troubles with Ron, how Dean and Seamus started the football club with him and had had his back pretty much since day one, how Neville was literally a ball of squishy sunshine, all about the Weasley twins which Remus clearly had a preference to hear more about, Hannah and his suspicions of her gossiping hard behind his back, how Susan had given him bruises on his shins in a pick-up football game the other day, Lu and Luna and Ginny and Colin and…
And eventually he actually confessed his Slytherin friends too. All about Daphne being his snake-tutor, his victory in winning Theo over, him trying to survive Blaise in general, how weird Melinda was, how he was trying to win Tracy over… and then Draco.
There was this genuine worry he had that Remus would hate Slytherins like all Gryffindors did. Even Neville wanted little to do with them, and given how similar the Marauders and the Weasley twins acted, and how a lot of Remus' stories were about pranks specifically targeted towards Slytherins… well, Harry had some valid concerns.
His suspicion was proven right thankfully, when Remus only asked after them more, wanting to hear more stories of them as people instead of commenting on Harry's very eclectic choice of friends—he never commented on them actually, he only ever wanted to hear more about who they were to Harry himself. He didn't even hint that he thought it odd or weird that his arch enemy happened to live in the same dorm room as him while his best friend was actually the most Slytherin-y a Slytherin as you could get. He didn't even bat an eye when Harry let slip in retelling his latest trouble with Blaise that the event had happened in the Slytherin common room… meaning he was allowed into the Slytherin common room which was definitely a brand-new concept to an old-school Gryffindor. He didn't even comment on Theo who… given some rather large hints dropped in the past, came from one of the darkest Slytherin families out there, but instead just praised Harry for winning over the tough nut to crack and wanted to know more about how they were getting on this year too.
It seemed, for all intents and purposes, that Remus was not at all phased by his Slytherin adventures; something Harry had a suspected but was very happy to confirm for himself.
What startled him to his core though, was when instead of simply accepting it and moving on, out of nowhere it seemed, Remus suddenly confessed his mother's best friend when starting Hogwarts had been a Slytherin too.
When he'd immediately asked for details, Remus had simply deflected again and said they hadn't worked out. But he reassured him that Harry was his own person, and this friendship was his to keep or break, whatever he chose to do with it in the end. Lily Evans had had the same right and she'd done what she'd needed to.
Which was an incredibly vague thing to say, but Harry knew what he was trying to do. He didn't want to poison his and Draco's friendship with tales of all the ways a Gryffindor/Slytherin friendship had failed in the past, being yet another voice of dissent that it was a bad idea on all accounts. Because it'd never happened before so clearly it meant it couldn't ever happen, right?
But today was different. Him and Draco were their own people, they weren't their parents or anyone else, and it was their decision on how to move forward alone.
In a way, Harry honestly appreciated not being told the truth outright. It was probably for the best, once he'd thought about it a bit more.
But it was very reassuring to hear he had one more thing in common with his mother though, just as it was also comforting to hear someone understand from the start that just because he had this in common with her, didn't mean he was her. He was still Harry, through and through. His mother's son for sure, but still his own person.
Remus had won many points in Harry's book for navigating that minefield near perfectly, being an open, unjudgmental ear while still being 'adult-like' enough not to comment on people like a friend or like he knew them. Remus was still more of an adult than Harry really knew how to handle, since Hagrid barely counted and teachers, even McGonagall, were always strictly business… which meant he really didn't talk to adults about his actual life much.
Or… uh, ever.
Had that ever happened?
He couldn't recall.
Given every adult he could name had either proven themselves untrustworthy or he'd never even given them the chance to show they could be trusted in the first place, he figured Remus was kind of it.
An adult ally, huh? He mused, thinking over Draco's advice. The problem being that despite Remus being someone Harry probably could trust, he was also unfortunately not a good ally to have for most of his current problems. As a werewolf he couldn't adopt children, he was watched constantly so he couldn't really act on Harry's behalf without the entire Ministry knowing immediately, and honestly the man already seemed to have more than enough troubles going on in his life without Harry burdening him with more. Even if Harry asked him to get some books he didn't want people knowing he was reading, like say some Alchemy texts, chances were Remus would try but would get kicked out of the store before he could buy anything… then not only would he feel like shit for being treated like shit but then also feel like he'd let Harry down and…
And yeah. Harry wanted to trust Remus but unfortunately the poor werewolf was a bit too limited in what he could do.
Actually, that didn't mean he couldn't trust Remus, it just meant he couldn't really ask the man to help too much. He did believe Remus would, if he could, it's just… well, that was why Harry was going to be Minister someday. Then maybe things would get better, he hoped.
The real turning point though, Harry almost missed.
In fact, it was so subtle he wasn't quite sure he was imagining it until he sat and tried to recall what he'd written in his last letter… because Remus had randomly brought up his second Christmas at Hogwarts, in which his father had sent him a necklace.
Weird.
Okay, not too weird once Harry remembered in his last letter he'd spoken in depth about his own Christmas last year, mainly by way of explaining how he was working out how to tell the twins apart and him getting them different gifts. Each gift had been important, particularly Draco's Transfiguration textbook (that he dropped a few hints at being less than light although Remus either hadn't noticed or decided not to comment on it). Then there was his love of sweets, Mrs. Weasley's sweater and Percy's kind reaction to it, even the Slytherins' gifts before they acknowledged him as a real friend and how much fun it was figuring out what each meant, politically at least.
The big one though, was him slyly mentioning he'd received a very beautiful cloak from his father. Since the Marauders had been wild pranksters, there was no way on earth Remus didn't know about the cloak, and he thought that would be what got the biggest reaction. He was a little disappointed when Remus didn't even acknowledge the cloak, and instead told him about his necklace.
Harry couldn't even think the necklace was that important though, when it was clear from the tone that Remus had hated the damn thing to the pits of hell.
James was seething the entire day about it. Pomfrey almost stunned him, which was an omen back then as she did in fact ending up stunning him several times before we graduated from him making scenes in the Hospital Wing.
Harry had finished the letter like he always did but had to go back to that part later because… something just didn't line up.
Why was my Dad mad about it? Remus clearly didn't like it, but he didn't sound mad…
Well, Remus never sounded mad. Even when telling very edited stories in which Harry knew he'd been trampled on by the bigoted world around him, the kind werewolf never seemed mad… just a tiny bit sad sometimes. Resigned even.
That was probably what happened to you when you were treated poorly your whole life though. You didn't get mad unless you knew your self-worth and were enraged that someone would dare—
Harry paused.
He re-read that portion of the letter again.
Remus hadn't commented on anyone—not the twins who he clearly enjoyed hearing about, not Draco's questionable reading material despite Harry's hints, Mrs. Weasley's kindness, and certainly not his dad's cloak which Harry knew should've been a highlight. But the man didn't say a word about any of it, he only recounted his own tale and then moved on like that hadn't happened, changing the topic back to quidditch.
There was something there, but Remus was far too subtle for Harry to figure out just what the heck he was trying to do… like how he'd put the map's words into one of his letters, but somehow even more obscure. Harry suspected this was somehow another kind of clue he just… didn't know what he was trying to say. Especially since this was a protected parchment and he should've been able to speak freely, which implied there was another reason he couldn't just out and say it.
Remus liked to share as much as he could in response to Harry's own honestness, but that was the first time he'd ever mentioned his own parents and he didn't do it again.
It wasn't until two full days later when Harry was getting ready for the day in the bathroom, brushing his hair out in the talking mirror and deciding to wear the necklace the twins had got him last year. He's just finished clipping it on and adjusting it in the mirror, hands deeply scarred as they adjusted where it lay…
He felt himself stutter a bit, as if his whole mind and body had skipped a beat. It left him off balance for a brief moment.
…oh.
Suddenly not very hungry, he turned around and decided to walk around the lake instead of attending breakfast that day, the necklace around his throat burning him like he was a werewolf too from how hyperaware he was of it.
Pure metals were easier to come by in the wizarding world… probably because of Transfiguration being how a lot of stuff was made, since it was a thousand times easier and probably didn't require as much cost or labor as it would in the muggle world. That meant normal stuff in the muggle world was typically aluminum or stainless steel or something more "common", and I mean there was little reason not to use that stuff in the wizarding world except for this attitude everyone had about 'pure silver' being the best metal for any application.
With a wave of your wand you could spin a sliver chain and clasp any old trinket to it when you had magic. Pure silver was a lot easier to come by in this world; it wasn't nearly as expensive or rare or difficult to make with magic and so a ton of things were made of it because of that "purity" attitude people had… but it was most particularly used for jewelry. Purebloods has this thing: they wouldn't even bother wearing it if it weren't real precious metals because otherwise was just too 'pedestrian' (read:muggle), but honestly that wasn't a big deal. Harry knew the necklace he was wearing was real silver, even with the Weasleys being pretty well known for being strapped for cash—it wasn't weird or exorbitant to get someone a silver necklace in this world at all. He'd barely even given it a thought when wearing it in the past year.
So… what were the chances that the necklace Remus' father had given him was also a silver necklace?
Probably pretty high, actually.
It would also explain why James Potter was causing enough of a scene in the hospital wing on Christmas day for Pomfrey to get mad at him for it.
Harry wondered a few moments on why… why had he brought that up out of nowhere…
But he also realized the gaping holes in his own life. How he wrote pages and pages about friends and teachers, about Draco and the Slytherins when it was clear he was hesitant about sharing those relationships with anyone, writing about his muggle school in an attempt to convince Remus to be a teacher in a roundabout way, writing about quidditch and football, about how he was still getting used to the wizarding world but wouldn't give up his muggle clothes, his school work and his plans for the future, how the twins gave him an open invitation to their house over breaks…
Not once had Harry mentioned his relatives. The people who supposedly "raised" him.
Not unlike how Remus purposefully didn't mention people that Harry knew for a fact were supposed to be there in the story he was telling, but were very pointedly not.
It wasn't like Harry just didn't want to talk about the muggle world, he clearly did—he had, in depth even. He hadn't realized he'd been so obvious in not talking about a part of his life, to the point Remus could read all the things he wasn't saying by choosing not to write them down when asked what was important to him.
Harry had told Remus almost everything he did care about, and he thought he'd been so careful in withholding the things he didn't want an "adult" catching onto… he'd completely forgotten to even mention his relatives because… well fuck them honestly.
He should've mentioned them in one way or another, said they sent him a book for Christmas or lied that Petunia had ever hung his homework on the fridge not just to humiliate him in that it was worse than Dudley's. If Remus had been friends with his mother then he probably knew Petunia; if he didn't know her that well he could still probably guess that she didn't care about magic at least, so it wouldn't be weird to mention maybe that they had no interest in owl mail or anything so he hadn't talked to them in a while. He could've lied to ensure it wasn't so obvious he was avoiding talking about them.
But he hadn't done it on purpose. He'd spilled a lot to Remus and was a bit unnerved how… true most of it was.
Gryffindor or not, he had a very snake-like apprehension of things like truth.
Or maybe Blaise's lecture on poison had gotten to him more than he'd thought it did.
Either way, he would've been way more concerned if he wasn't also still struggling to figure out what exactly Remus was after with this. It was such a subtle hint, Harry's own experiences might've just skewed the implication into thinking Remus' father was anything like the thrice-damned Dursleys… but he had this uneasiness that he was dead on with this assumption.
Just because it makes sense doesn't make it true, that's what Theo had said and Harry had been looking for an excuse to use that logic, but his instincts were telling him to just shut up and keep it simple.
He wasn't overthinking this, Remus was telling him without stepping on his toes about it. Like he didn't comment on his choice of friends or career plans or anything else—they'd only been writing a couple of weeks but Harry already knew that he wasn't commenting on Harry. He wasn't trying to do anything.
He was showing him something by not saying it outright, even on an enchanted protected parchment where no one else would see it.
But what was it?
He watched the giant squid surface out in the middle of the lake, one long tentacle curling up then flopping back down into the murky depths below, the surface slowly returning back to its deceptively calm surface.
It doesn't change anything.
He thought, not necessarily happy about it. Not necessarily sad either just… conflicted.
All it means is that Remus knows not to talk about it either. Good.
And in a way it's convenient… I should've lied to throw him off the trail but I forgot to, and now he suspects but he won't do anything, cause he gets it. Which is good… I don't have to lie, we can just move on.
All the better, he could keep writing his letters to Remus and not worry he'd slip up about the damn Dursleys. That was good. Comforting even.
He watched the ripples out in the middle of the lake until it got late enough that he really needed to head in for class, only some very testy toddler mandrakes threatening his hearing finally refocusing him from the odd start to his day.
000
"You're kidding!"
Neville groaned, curling up into a smaller ball on the lounge he was currently wallowing in, Dean and Seamus nodding their heads a bit too vigorously on the couch across from him. The Gryffindor common room was blissfully warm after a particularly brutal quidditch practice, since October had been nothing but rain so far. Angelica had been kind enough to teach him a drying-off spell but he wasn't quite good enough at it to not set his robes on fire just yet so his hair was still damp and he had a chill that the roaring fire was only just staring to ward off. He'd come down from changing to see a very morose Neville trying to become one with his chair while Seamus and Dean were talking strategy as intently as if the topic were sports, however when he sat down to hear exactly what they were talking about he'd been a bit thrown.
"I guess it makes sense, if not a bit morbid. Living people celebrate birthdays and dead people celebrate death-days. I remember Nick telling me about that club of his; bunch of pricks if you ask me."
"Exclusive pricks apparently." Seamus snorted. "He's asked Neville to pretend to be suitably terrified of him to increase his credibility or something with the other ghosts."
"At least that's not going to be hard," Said blond muttered, head still buried in his knees and Harry leaned over to pat him on the shoulder gently, though he smiled wryly while he did it.
"Nick is such a nice ghost though, if the rest of them are that terrifying then why would he want to be part of their little club?" He wondered aloud.
Neville groaned again, the idea of spending an evening with a bunch of ghosts named the "Headless Hunt" making his stomach twist sharply.
"I should've just let Peeves ink me." He huffed. Apparently, Peeves had been throwing balloons of ink and Nearly Headless Nick had warned him off… but instead of just accepting Neville's thanks had instead coerced a party invitation into his hand and the meek Gryffindor just hadn't been able to say no.
Harry was less amused at the Gryffindor ghost than he was previously for tricking Neville, but also grudgingly impressed the guy who played such a jovial deadman to all the younger years had such a con in him. Also a 500th death-day sounded like a huge event. Harry really liked Halloween but he was also insanely tempted by the concept of a party.
"Come on, we can make a thing of it! It's his party and it's on Halloween so let's get the twins to steal as much candy as they can and bring it down with us."
Neville peaked one blue eye up at him balefully, still hesitant but seeming reassured Harry was so into it.
"You sure?"
"Absolutely! McGonagall would never let actually harmful ghosts into the castle even just to visit for a party so they'll just be a bunch of dead people at best—snobby dead people going by their exclusivity I guess. The worst thing we'll have to survive is small talk!" He encouraged brightly, and Neville lifted his head cautiously to consider that.
"I mean… going by the title of their club, none of them have heads." Dean pointed out.
Neville let out a wail of despair and curled up again, Dean just putting his hands up in surrender at Harry's glare.
000
"Trick or treat!"
"Excuse me?" Blaise looked overly suspicious at the Gryffindor marching up behind him in the hallway, turning to look as far down his nose at the redhead as he could when Harry smacked him in the face with a handful of assorted candies. Blaise's preferences were a closely guarded secret (by him) probably because he didn't want to make the contact-sport that was Slytherin gift-giving too easy on people because he was a troublesome dick, so Harry had made a wild guess. He wouldn't be too put out if it turned out Blaise hated almonds, in fact.
Neville gave a quiet 'eep!' from behind him at the violent presentation of the candy as Blaise froze, letting the candy that had just nailed him in the face fall to the floor almost pointedly before glaring down at Harry.
Who, in turn, just shot him a grin as he much more politely handed another packet to Theo, who accepted it gently with a questioning eyebrow raised as his only reaction.
"In the muggle world kids say 'trick or treat' and you either get candy or have to do a trick."
"Then I choose trick!" Blaise demanded without hesitation, but Harry had almost expected it since he already had his wand in hand—twisting it once to turn the tall Slytherin's tie into marble, forcing him to gag as it strangled him and caused him to stumble forward wildly from the weight.
"Done!" He chirped brightly, addressing Theo while ignoring the suffocating Slytherin beside them. Theo wisely chose to do that same.
"You really like Halloween, huh?"
"I do; isn't it supposed to be a huge deal in the wizarding world too?" Harry pointed out.
"I guess." Theo shifted, glancing at Neville over his shoulder but didn't react. "I just thought it might be associated with… unpleasant anniversaries is all."
Meaning this also happened to be the night his parents were killed, exactly eleven years ago tonight. Not that Harry had known that until last year, and not that for most of his life he'd even known much about his parents to mourn their loss. Halloween had always been an interesting night for him, as in he'd always been interested in it. It had never been something bad before, and Halloween at Hogwarts as awesome.
He wasn't about to let imagined grief ruin something just because there did happen to exist a reason he could've been sad—he wasn't sad, and that was it, he felt no need to question it. He had enough issues without wondering if he should feel sad about something.
"You're right," he sighed a tad too dramatically. "This is the anniversary of the night I almost got squished by a troll! All the more reason to be happy I'm alive!" He cried in fake emotion, Theo blinking before smiling slightly, knowing he'd been caught.
Harry snickered, shoving another load of candy into his arms. "Oh my god you're such a downer, just take the sweets and enjoy the feast!"
"Fair." He agreed, looking at the candy, though seeming to have thoughts elsewhere. He did look up to nod at their clothes though. "You're very dressed up for a feast, right?"
"Thank you for noticing! Yes, but we're not going to the feast, we've been invited to a party!"
"What party!?" Blaise seemed to instantaneously stand upright at the word 'party'—his tie missing. Harry noted there were chunks of marble on the ground from where he'd freed himself.
Huh, I didn't even notice that happening.
"It's Nearly Headless Nick's 500th death-day and he's having a party with a bunch of other headless ghosts. I can't imagine there'll be food for living people though, hence the bag of candy," He gestured to his bottomless shoulder bag, which was now filled with an obscene amount of goods the twins had procured from Honeydukes for him.
It was very last minute, hence why he couldn't just order it himself, but now that he knew the map existed (and that there was a tunnel that lead right to Honeydukes' basement) the twins had a habit of lightening their inventory and just leaving the money behind. Harry had them leave enough galleons to cover the inconvenience as well (though he had to wonder how they hadn't questioned what was happening at this point), and he was very much enjoying being the candy fairy right now in handing it out—not that everyone wasn't going to be able to eat their fill at the feast anyway. It was the spirit of the thing.
Blaise frowned in distain. "On one hand I'm offended I'm not invited. On the other hand, Gryffindor's ghost…and ghosts in general."
Harry sighed, ignoring him but catching sight of Neville and being very impressed that for once in a blue moon, the grey heir and the meekest of the Gryffindors seemed to be totally on the same page so far as how they viewed this party.
"You all are so lame, it'll be fun!"
"Good luck with that." Blaise sniffed at him. "We are on our way to the feast though, before you so rudely interrupted us."
"That's it, I'm taking the candy back."
"Don't you dare!"
Harry ignored his shrieking and also the candy, not really having meant that threat as he looped his arm around Neville's and pulled them off down the hallway briskly.
"Happy Halloween!"
"Happy Halloween." Theo offered blankly while Blaise just continued cursing at him—still picking up the candy though.
"I'm surprised he didn't hex you," Neville offered quietly once they were far enough away but Harry shrugged it off.
"One thing I've learned is that Blaise is far more creative than that." Which did not seem to comfort the blond in any way, but he was sufficiently distracted once they got to the dark and dingy lower hallway that this party was apparently taking place in.
As he was vain at heart he'd taken the opportunity to finally put some of his nicer muggle clothes to good use, though he wasn't sure if a death-day party was something you wore black to like it was a funeral, or bright colors like you would a birthday. He figured every dead person at this party would be distinctly ghost colored anyway, and wearing the clothes they died in like all ghosts did, so it was probably up to his discretion and what he wanted to wear. He knew it was going to be in the dungeons and it'd been getting rapidly colder for only mid-autumn, so he had on a slightly oversized deep blue wool sweater over beige pants with a silver scarf tossed over one shoulder, matching the many sparkly silver baubles he'd carefully placed in his braided hair.
Neville had very gallantly let him pick out an outfit for him to wear too, since he didn't seem to care either way, more focused on surviving the event in the first place. Knowing he wasn't very flashy and didn't get cold quite so easily, over his black school pants and shoes, Harry had found (transfigured for his purposes) him a slightly thinner mustard cardigan over a white button down done up to his chin, which was quite a smart look on the rosy-cheeked blond, if he did say so.
If they happened to be dressed up in the wrong house colors, Harry didn't care. Colors belonged to everyone, in his opinion. Same reason he made one of the football teams' colors a very tasteful green and refused to hear commentary about how the color of trees and nature was too Slytherin-y.
What nonsense, honestly.
"You've made it!"
Nearly Headless Nick's bright cheer caused both of them to jump as they almost walked right by the doorway the event was being held in. Harry was slightly taken aback by the sheer number of ghosts milling around, since it was very off-putting to encounter an entire crowd of people but not having heard or sensed them at all before setting eyes on them. Given they were all dead and floating above the ground they made no footsteps, they weren't breathing and the huge table of ghostly food (it looked rotten… unfortunately for his candy-ladened stomach) that made no noise on ghostly plates and cutlery. It was only their voices that would give away they were there, but as pretty much only them and Nick currently had heads on their necks, conversation seemed to be a bit stifled in the dingy room.
Neville was stiff as a board and frozen like a deer in headlights as Harry responded a bit breathily to Nick.
I do like parties… but this is weird.
"Wouldn't miss it," He told Nick instead, forcing a smile with more effort than he normally had to. "Neville told me all about your invitation and I thought I'd help."
"Excellent! The more the merrier! You must meet the Headless Hunt then, come, come." He seemed to be enjoying his 500th death-day at least, which was probably the important part Harry allowed as they followed him into the room a bit more.
Or… he did and then had to grab Neville's hand to force him to keep up.
Then again, if Neville faints that'll prove to these assholes that Nick truly is that scary and it'll give us an excuse to leave early.
Looking at Neville, he was petrified but not quite that petrified. Which was probably good; Harry acknowledged he was a monster for having that thought in the first place even if it was on Neville's behalf.
He almost didn't hear the ghost Nick had introduced them to start talking, being very thrown off that the voice was coming from not the space where his head should've been, where he'd automatically looked, but from the head in the man's hands.
Harry wasn't really listening as he just stared at the odd sight.
… really wish we'd gone to the feast instead.
000
…k…ill…
Harry felt ice race over his skin, hand automatically snapping out and getting an iron lock onto Neville's, who jumped about a foot in the air at the sudden touch when he was already on edge from talking for far too many ghosts for either of their liking this evening.
"Har-?"
He didn't give him a chance to even ask as he bolted for the door, hearing several ghosts say something in surprise but not giving a flying snitch. Neville stumbled but quickly got the message and was running alongside him now too. It probably would've been easier to let go of his hand and just run… but Harry had a bad feeling sinking deep into his stomach and he was almost afraid to let Neville out of his grasp.
It felt close. Whatever it was… they were too deep down in the castle and Harry just knew they had to get to higher ground, they needed to get away from it. His stomach twisted…
He felt clammy. He hadn't felt this way in the safety of a Hogwarts hallway since he'd turned a corner on a late night like this and been met with a hooded figure at the end of the hallway.
Maybe it the sugar or the rotten food at the party, but he very nearly threw up. He was nauseous but he was too focused on running and trying to get enough breath in his lungs to run that he kept it together.
They got to the top of the hallway and they had to pause—both from the dead sprint up several flights of steps they'd just done but also for Harry to strain his ears and try to hear a hint of what he was looking for over his panting. He slipped out his wand on reflex, thinking of something—anything—that might work on whatever this was. It if was a physical threat he could work with that… if it wasn't what could he do…?
"Harry?" Neville gasped, looking scared.
Even more so when Harry gave him a dead serious look. "Take out your wand." He commanded and Neville did so without question, which was good, but still looked insanely nervous to do so. "There's something here… I'm not sure what it is exactly but I hate it."
His eyes scanned the seemingly normal hallway… the hyper-aware feeling that something horrific was right beside them was fading… thank god.
But, that meant it had moved, and he didn't know where. It wasn't a comforting feeling by any means.
"Sh-should we tell the teachers?"
"I got the Slytherins to get Snape involved… he should've been looking into it."
"Snape?" Neville seemed taken off guard by that, and not quite so comforted.
"Whatever this is, it's dark. Figured he'd be the guy who could recognize it best for whatever it was." He explained, and that certainly had Neville agreeing a bit more.
"Okay, probably…but if he hasn't done anything and you've sensed this before, maybe we should tell more than just him."
Harry had assumed Snape would tell the other teachers… Dumbledore even, since despite being a questionable old man still played the part of a headmaster and would probably want to know the things happening in his school. If Snape hadn't, that would be… well, not too bad if they caught it in time. That meant two separate groups of students had gone to their house heads with the same issue: that would get it more attention and perhaps get it figured out sooner.
"Yeah, you're right. Let's go tell McGonagall, she'll at least be more concerned about it."
He walked carefully as if he expected to see a troll around every corner, and Neville copied his cautious steps automatically, not needing prompting to be overly cautious but now even more so that Harry—who was never hesitant—was on high alert. Running into a troll wasn't even that bad a concern to have given it was exactly a year from the night he'd almost met his end that way.
"Do you have any ideas of what it is?" Neville asked quietly as they picked their way overly carefully though the candle-lit hallways.
"Not really… I brought it up to Daphne and we thought it was some kind of dark object. Maybe Lockhart accidentally brought it in with him since last time we sensed it, it was around his classroom… and he's certainly stupid enough not to know a dark object from his own pretty ass cheek."
"Why do you have to say it like that," Neville complained in a resigned way.
"I've never set eyes on anything I just sometimes get this really bad feeling and can almost hear something like a disembodied voice promising murder and death and things like that."
"…oh." He got out in an eep, raising his wand in a slightly trembling hand.
Harry watched Neville's grip on his wand and felt a surge of unease too. Not just for what they might encounter, but also how the hell he was supposed to protect himself and his friend if something popped out at them. The reminder of the troll and how helpless both he and Hermione had been somehow more fresh than it'd been all year… he was younger then, only by a year but still, and wrapped up in his own terror and fight for survival. If he'd been able to think as clearly as he could now in a tense situation, he would've been a lot more terrified for Hermione too back then. He should've been more scared for her—for the two of them rather than just his own selfish self-preservation.
She hadn't been the one hurt in the end which was honestly just luck, he recognized in hindsight. It could've been her, and he wasn't sure he was okay with that. He didn't exactly enjoy getting crushed by a troll, he would've chosen that no one got crushed by a troll, but if he had to pick between the two of them he wasn't exactly going to pick Hermione. He wouldn't enjoy it or volunteer exactly but he absolutely wouldn't pick her to take his place instead if the world somehow worked like that.
Similarly, if something popped out at them now he recognized that it might not be him that got hurt. Neville somehow had worse luck than Harry himself did…and his stomach was twisting into tight, ever-increasingly painful knots the more that thought ate away at him.
"Do you know any shield spells?"
"No," Neville's voice wavered as he answered.
"The stunning spell?"
"Y-yeah, I think so…"
"If it's corporal, use that one. If it ends up being a ghost or something you can't touch or hit though, you know the giggling charm, right?"
"Yeah?" Neville blinked, surprised by that turn. Harry flashed him a reassuring grin.
"Use it on yourself. Theo told me if you can't escape a dark object, using an intensely light charm on yourself won't save you exactly, but it'll keep you alive until you can get help. In most situations." He wasn't completely sure that this mystery threat wouldn't be too powerful or something, but it was a start.
"R-really?" His blue eyes seemed to absorb that… then he nodded, hand shaking slightly less on his wand grip.
Harry got it. Having a plan helped, a lot.
Having no idea what the threat was and no plan for what the fuck to do when it came for you was a lot more terrifying. Even if it was just a basic tactic for bare minimum survival, that was better than nothing.
Despite his caution, he really didn't sense anything else for the rest of their journey, choosing to head back to the Great Hall where the feast was probably still going on, if not just about to wrap up given the late hour. Not that he was dropping his guard for a second but as the rumbling of a huge crowd echoed through the halls and he realized the entire student body was leaving the feast and headed for their dorms at once, he did feel safer. People, crowds, teachers… it was way more reassuring than wandering alone in the candlelit hallways of a creepy castle on Halloween night, with his instincts on red alert keeping him on his toes.
Wait…
He paled, stomach flipping again when he realized the Slytherins leaving he feast would be headed towards their dorm… directly back to where they'd just come from.
He didn't know if it was still there, whatever it was, but if they'd truly run from where it lived in the depths of the castle and getting farther away was safer…
The same fear that gripped him when he realized he didn't know how to protect Neville made him truly nauseous as he realized Draco was probably very unwittingly walking right back to potential danger. And Harry wasn't even there to be able to try to protect him.
"Draco," he got out, sounding choked to his own ears and Neville snapped his head over at his face, which Harry knew was probably as pale as the ghosts they'd just ditched. "They Slytherins are walking right toward it…"
It only took a moment but the blond nodded more resolutely than he had been.
"I'll tell McGonagall."
Harry could've hugged him to death right there but settled for a thankful look before he took off running—Neville going right for where the sounds of the crowd were loudest. He'd be safe, with the group of lions heading back to the tower pretty much just on the end of this hallway…
He couldn't say the same for the Slytherins, who he knew were going to head for the hallway one over as the quickest way back right down towards the dungeons.
He bolted, pouring on the speed with his wand firmly in hand, and felt his heart leap when he made it around the bend to see the crowd of Slytherins already entering the side hallway entrance. A frantic glance around and he didn't see a single second year… going by where they sat, the first and second years were probably leading the way.
He darted into the crowd, knowing he was doing himself no favors by knocking into people when he couldn't avoid it in a house that only barely tolerated him to begin with, but he didn't care. He avoided shoving as much as he could but heard several sharp comments shot his way that were immediately out of range of his hearing given how fast he picked through the crowd.
Thankfully, he got to the front in record time and picked out a very unique blond head out of the throng.
"Draco!"
The Malfoy only got to half turn at the sound of his name before Harry latched onto his arm and dragged him off to the side of the crowd forcible, eyes wide and frantic. He saw Blaise and Theo in the crown blink in surprise at his sudden appearance too.
"Harry!?"
"Something's wrong," was all he got out before someone screamed.
The entirety of Slytherin house seemed to either jump or immediately tense towards the sound, Harry and Draco too although Harry's automatic reaction was to grip his friend's arm even tighter in defense of whatever it was. As it turned out though, it was a Tracy Davis who'd turned the hallway corner first of the crowd to see whatever it was.
Pansy Parkinson, standing right next to her, burst out laughing as she saw it too.
As if he somehow had both learned to apparate and also somehow do it on Hogwarts' grounds, Theo was suddenly right next to Harry's shoulder, and frankly Harry was okay with that as he gripped his wand tighter, raised in front of him.
Blaise somehow had much less self-preservation than the normal Slytherin and was immediately in the next hallway to check it out, face lighting up in… something. Not quite joy but definitely not fear—but something had his total, captivated interest, in an almost vindictive way. Like someone who had never known they could feel this way, whatever it was he was feeling.
"Oh Malfoy, you're definitely going to want to see this," He shot at his roommate's direction without tearing his eyes away, and then they were promptly separated by a crowd of older Slytherins—half having seen it and others who wanted to—now all talking at once.
Draco lead the way this time, Harry far more hesitantly following him just to peek around the corner. But… something in his gut told him he really didn't actually want to know.
000
The chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, Beware.