"A reliquary, you say? I must confess, I have not come across one directly, though I am familiar with their nature. That said, I've never heard of one being capable of holding a spirit or a soul," Albus mused, his voice calm but laced with intrigue. The flickering light from the hearth cast elongated shadows across his office, the myriad of strange instruments on his shelves ticking softly, adding an undercurrent of motion to the otherwise still room. Sirius and Remus sat opposite him, their postures taut with tension.
Albus folded his hands beneath his chin, his mind already churning through the possibilities. He had battled with himself, could Tom be imprisoned whilst they found another way to remove the soul? Tom Riddle was more than just a fractured soul; he was a symbol of fear and power, an almost mythical figure. Even if they succeeded in containing him, the question of where and how lingered. There was no facility secure enough to house him, no authority trustworthy enough to oversee such a task. The news offered a sliver of hope—a rare spark amid the dark clouds that loomed over Harry's fate
The Ministry itself, for all its show of strength under Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour, was still unearthing moles and rooting out corruption. Each day seemed to bring a new arrest, plunging the Wizengamot into disarray. The thought only deepened Albus's resolve—any plan relying on Voldemort's containment was doomed to fail, hence why he was to be defeated as soon as possible.
"Do you know of any contacts who might know about such objects?" Sirius pressed, leaning forward, his pale face drawn with worry. The sun's rays through the window threw sharp angles across his features, making his desperation all the more apparent.
Albus's blue eyes met his, filled with a similar urgency, though tempered by age and experience. "No," he admitted, his tone grave. "But I am aware of a family whose history may be affected with a reliquary of this nature." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle. "However, I must caution you—it is a delicate matter. My knowledge of this comes solely through my position as headmaster, and it is not my place to share their personal affairs."
"Who?" Sirius pressed again, his voice insistent.
Albus's expression softened, but his resolve did not waver. "I will not say, Sirius. Just as you would not wish Harry's circumstances to become the subject of someone else's speculation, I cannot betray confidence entrusted to me."
Sirius opened his mouth to protest but hesitated, Albus's words clearly cutting through his frustration. "N-No, I guess not," he muttered, leaning back in his chair with a resigned sigh.
Remus, ever the voice of reason, broke the silence. "We'll conduct our own inquiries in the meantime," he said quietly, his tone steady but determined. He placed a calming hand on Sirius's shoulder, though the tension between them remained palpable.
Albus nodded, the faintest glimmer of approval in his gaze. "Good. Pursue all avenues, but tread carefully. Objects with the power to interact with souls are exceedingly rare—and exceedingly dangerous."
The room fell silent, save for the faint crackle of the fire. Outside the frosted window, the pale moon cast a silver glow over the snow-dusted grounds of Hogwarts, a stark reminder of the cold realities they were racing to overcome.
The fire crackled softly in the quiet that followed, but it was Sirius who broke it again. "Any news about Voldemort? He's been awfully quiet. The lack of murders and disappearances is notable"
Dumbledore's gaze drifted toward the window, where snow swirled gently against the leaded glass. "Quiet, yes, but not idle. Severus has confirmed that Nagini, his snake, is not presently at her master's side. Tom appears to be searching for something—something he does not trust even his most loyal followers to retrieve."
"You think he knows Harry holds a piece of his soul?," Remus said, his voice low.
"I doubt he knows it's within Harry," Albus admitted. "He is methodical, careful, and deeply paranoid. If he has realised a piece of his soul has been discovered or destroyed, he will not rest until he understands how and by whom. It is likely he believes it is still out there, and that it has not yet been destroyed."
"That's a small comfort," Sirius muttered, though his tone suggested it was anything but.
Albus shifted the conversation, his tone lightening ever so slightly. "Harry is faring well with his training, Amelia has been quite impressed with his progress, I must say."
Remus leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued. "What's she said?"
Albus's lips curved into a faint smile. "She finds him relentless—determined to master every nuance, even the smallest details. He reminds me greatly of James in that regard, though Harry's approach is perhaps more tempered by experience. I, of course, have been adamant about drilling him on spell efficiency, and I suspect Harry is secretly thriving on the challenge."
Remus chuckled softly. "That sounds like Harry. Always pushing himself. How is he taking the strategy lessons?"
"Exceedingly well," Albus replied, his tone tinged with pride. "He has a rare instinct for seeing connections that others might overlook. It is not merely intelligence—it is intuition. He approaches magical combat not just as a practitioner but as a thinker. He often surprises me with leaps of logic that seem almost second nature. Though I suppose nothing that boy does should surprise me"
"That's good to hear," Sirius said, his brow furrowed slightly. "He's got a lot on his plate."
"He does," Albus agreed, his expression momentarily shadowed. "But he has also shown remarkable resilience. I suspect his ability to thrive under pressure comes not despite his burdens, but because of them."
"Still, Albus," Sirius said, his voice low, "This is a lot to bare alone"
"He isn't alone," Albus replied, his gaze steady. "Harry is fortunate to have allies and family who care for him deeply, even if they cannot always stand beside him physically. And I am here. Amelia, too, has taken her role as his mentor with great seriousness. None of us would allow him to face what lies ahead without every advantage we can provide."
Remus nodded. "That's all we can do—prepare him and stand ready when he needs us."
The weight of their shared purpose settled between them. Albus looked to Sirius, his blue eyes soft but unwavering. "He is lucky to have you, Sirius, even from afar. And if I may say so, James and Lily would be proud of the man you've become. The boy has changed much even in the summer holidays, much to do with your influence"
Sirius's shoulders eased slightly, his expression flickering with a mix of gratitude and determination. "Thanks, Albus. That means a lot."
Albus gave a small nod, and for a moment, the room felt lighter, as though the weight of their responsibilities had briefly lifted. The flickering firelight cast warm shadows on the walls, a fleeting respite from the gravity of their discussion.
"He has taken to spending a great deal of time with the elder Greengrass sister," Dumbledore remarked, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. "They seemed to have formed quite a bond over the summer and are now working closely together in Ancient Runes."
"Yes, he seems quite comfortable with Daphne," Remus added with a faint chuckle, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Smitten, more like," Sirius said with a bark of laughter, leaning back in his chair with an air of amusement.
Remus shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. "Leave the boy alone, Sirius. Let him navigate that himself."
"Indeed," Albus interjected, his tone measured but amused. "Though I must confess, I share Sirius' observation. Harry is quite adept at concealing his feelings, yet there hasn't been so much as a whisper of gossip in the school about the pair."
"That is a surprise," Remus said, his smile growing. "Considering how nosy teenagers can be."
Sirius shrugged, his grin unabated. "The boy's got a knack for staying under the radar when he wants to—though if I know Harry, he's probably figuring out how to make it work without drawing attention. Very much like James in that way."
"Quite so," Dumbledore agreed, his gaze distant for a moment as though recalling another time and another pair of young Gryffindors. "Let us hope he takes the best lessons from both his parents in matters of the heart."
"You mean rather than his godfather?" Remus smirked.
"I wouldn't possibly want to pass comments," Albus smiled in return.
…
The sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor filled the Transfiguration classroom as Professor McGonagall dismissed the class. Harry slung his bag over his shoulder, glancing at Hermione and Ron as they gathered their things.
"Shall we head down to the Great Hall for dinner?" Hermione asked, tucking her notes neatly into her bag.
"Yeah now it's December we get roasties pretty much every day!" Ron chimed in cheerfully.
"Honestly Ron you'd think you would be tired of them by now!" Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
"Not likely," Ron scoffed in response.
Before Harry could answer, a low murmur rippled through the room, drawing everyone's attention. Standing just outside the doorway were two familiar figures—Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Sirius leaned casually against the frame, his trademark grin in place, while Remus offered a small wave to the students who had noticed them.
"Is that... Sirius Black?" one student whispered, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"Yeah, and Professor Lupin!" another added, craning their neck for a better look.
McGonagall arched an eyebrow at the interruption but couldn't suppress a faint smile. "It seems we have some unexpected guests, but never you all mind, please gather your things and head to dinner."
Sirius stepped fully into the room to allow students to pass, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked at Harry. "Just here to collect my godson and take him and his friends for dinner, Professor. I promise not to cause too much trouble."
"I should hope not," McGonagall replied dryly, though her expression softened. "It's been some time since I've had the pleasure of seeing two of my more... spirited former students together." the elderly witch added as students began to leave the classroom for the evening meal.
Remus chuckled, stepping in beside Sirius. "Spirited is a generous term, Professor."
"Indeed," McGonagall said with a pointed look. "Though I imagine it's no small feat that you both made it through my class without turning each other—or the classroom—into a disaster zone."
"Only because you were such a formidable force," Sirius quipped, earning a ripple of laughter from the students who were still filing out.
Harry shook his head, grinning as he approached them. "What are you two actually doing here? I doubt it was just for some food"
"Thought we'd drop by as we were meeting with the Headmaster," Sirius replied, his grin widening. "Dumbledore said we could collect you, as long as we didn't disrupt the school too much. Remus insisted on tagging along—claims someone needs to keep me in line."
"A thankless job," Remus added with a wry smile.
"You checking up on my performance at school or something?" Harry folded his arms and raised his eyebrows. "I'm doing all the training you ask of me" he smiled.
Hermione and Ron exchanged glances, then joined Harry, their curiosity evident.
"Yeah he doesn't stop, cant even play chess with him anymore he is always reading or exercising" Ron said, addressing Sirius.
"I have little doubt, you can tell he is filling out" Sirius shot back, squeezing Harry's arm causing the young teenager to pull his arm away and flush. "Besides, I wanted to see you—and your friends, of course."
"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," Remus greeted with a nod, his gaze warm.
"I trust you'll keep the three out of trouble?," McGonagall interjected, though there was no real sharpness to her tone. "After all, Mr. Potter and his friends have their studies to attend to."
"Of course, Professor, but it is the last lesson of the day is it not? I'm sure the three can step away from dinner in the Great Hall and have some food with us?" Sirius said with mock solemnity, placing a hand over his heart.
"I would not show favouritism, Mister Black, but knowing you, your Godson and his friends, I doubt my word would stop you all" she said, shaking her head with a faint smile before moving to her desk. Hermione looked to protest at the implication she would break the rules but a knowing look from their head of house silenced her.
"Can we, Professor?" Harry asked, glancing at McGonagall.
She sighed and waved a hand dismissively as she took her seat. "Go on, Potter. But don't let your godfather give you any ideas about mischief. Remus you are being held responsible if anything happens"
Sirius gave her a mock salute. "Mischief? Me? Never."
As they stepped into the corridor, Hermione leaned closer to Harry. "Your godfather really knows how to make an entrance."
Harry laughed. "That's Sirius for you."
The group started down the hallway, Sirius and Remus falling into step beside the trio. Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth at their unexpected visit.
"So where are we going?" Ron asked. "I hope they have roast potatoes"
"Honestly," Hermione muttered.
"Nothing too fancy, I was thinking of the Three Broomsticks" Sirius replied, earning a nod from all three. "Wonderful let us be off then." As they set off Sirius spoke quietly to Harry. "You are taking your training in your stride it seems, I meant it you are filling out nicely" patting Harry on the shoulder.
"I promised I would, I need to be ready to fight Voldemort don't I"
"Indeed, and you'll be ready" his godfather replied before smirking. "I hear you and a certain young lady are working well together" he whispered.
"What have you heard?" Harry asked with concern.
"No gossip, Dumbledore just mentioned that your Runes project seemed to be coming along well" the older wizard smiled to offer reassurance. "Though I sense it's a little more than just study partners"
Harry paused at that, not sure on what he should say to Sirius about how he and Daphne had progressed. It was risky enough when the Greengrass family were allowing him to train at their estate, if news of his and Daphne's relationship , where to get out, Harry was sure that they would become a target. At the same time, the sixteen year old boy in him was not complaining about getting to kiss one of the prettiest girls in school … even if she only did so because she was forced to feel connected to him, something that he was wrestling with each time he and Daphne .. exchanged passion.
"Your business is your own Harry, just know I am here should you ever wish to talk" his godfather added, taking the pressure off his answer. He expected Sirius to push the issue given his history of teasing, but perhaps his godfather was also maturing?
…
The Three Broomsticks hummed with lively chatter, the warmth of the roaring hearth pushing back the winter chill that seeped through the snow-laden streets of Hogsmeade. Inside, Harry sat at a cozy corner booth, flanked by Ron and Hermione. Across from them, Sirius and Remus shared the bench, both nursing mugs of butterbeer. The table between them was cluttered with plates of food—shepherd's pie, chips, and a half-finished treacle tart that Ron was valiantly trying to finish off.
"So, there we were," Ron began, leaning forward dramatically, "in the middle of Snape's Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and Harry's Patronus has just galloped straight through the desk—Snape's desk—scattering all his notes."
Sirius's eyebrows shot up in delight, his grin already forming. "Please tell me Snape turned some interesting colors."
"Oh, he did," Ron assured him, waving his fork for emphasis. "But the best part? He was so busy glaring at Harry that he didn't notice his sleeves caught the edge of the Boggart box."
Remus chuckled, already guessing where this was going. "Oh no…"
Ron snorted at Sirius's comment, his mind drifting back to the surreal scene in Snape's Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
The lesson had been on Patronuses—a rare treat of practical magic that had everyone eager, despite the usual tension Snape brought to the room. Harry's stag had been as brilliant as ever, galloping through the classroom to a chorus of impressed murmurs from their peers. Even Ron, who had seen it before, couldn't help but grin.
But then the stag had clipped Snape's desk, scattering a neat pile of parchment across the floor like a gust of wind had blown through. Ron had barely stifled a laugh as Snape's expression darkened, his mouth curling into a sneer.
"Potter," Snape had hissed, his voice low and cutting.
Harry had opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word, chaos erupted.
The Boggart box, perched precariously on the edge of Snape's desk, wobbled and tipped open. Ron would never forget the way the Boggart exploded out of it, instantly transforming into a massive, screeching bat clad in Snape's unmistakable black robes.
The bat swooped low, its wings flapping furiously and sending a gust of air that knocked over a jar of pickled toads. Parvati shrieked, Neville dove under his desk, and Seamus tried—and failed—to hex it, sending sparks flying harmlessly into the air.
For a moment, Ron had been too stunned to react, gripping the edge of his desk as the bat soared straight at him, its beady eyes gleaming menacingly. But before it could get too close, Harry stepped forward, his wand raised.
"Riddikulus!" Harry shouted with calm precision.
The bat instantly transformed, its leathery wings shrinking into oversized fluffy ones adorned with bright pink bows. The once-threatening screeches turned into a comical honking sound, and its googly eyes wobbled with each flap of its ridiculous wings.
The classroom erupted into laughter—everyone except Snape, who was standing stiffly at the front of the room, his face a mask of icy control.
But Harry wasn't finished. With another quick flick of his wand, Harry sent the transformed Boggart hurtling back into its box, slamming the lid shut with a decisive thud. The room fell silent, the laughter dying down as everyone turned to Snape, bracing for his reaction.
Snape stalked toward Harry, his dark eyes unreadable. "Five points from Gryffindor," he said coldly, "for your inability to control your Patronus properly."
Ron had exchanged a wide-eyed look with Hermione, certain Snape's lecture would go on, but what came next was even more shocking.
"And ten points to Gryffindor," Snape added, his tone clipped but begrudgingly even, "for effectively handling the Boggart and preventing further chaos."
As they left the classroom later, Ron had muttered to Harry, "I can't believe it. Snape giving you points for something good? I thought I was going mad!"
Harry had chuckled faintly. "Honestly, I'm as surprised as you are."
"The box flew open, and out popped this enormous bat wearing Snape's robes. Flapping around the room, screeching like mad!"
Even Hermione couldn't suppress her laughter this time, though she shook her head in mock disapproval. "It wasn't that funny. Poor Neville nearly fainted when it flew at him."
"Poor Neville!" Ron repeated, mock-offended. "Poor me ! That thing nearly hit me in the face before Harry blasted it back into the box."
Sirius was howling with laughter now, clutching his stomach as he leaned back against the booth. "Oh, I wish I'd been there! The image of Snape's worst fear causing havoc in his own classroom—priceless."
Remus was smiling too, though he tempered his amusement with a shake of his head. "It's a wonder you three survive his class at all."
Harry chuckled, glad to see Sirius so at ease. For once, the ever-present weight on his shoulders seemed lighter in the warmth of his friends and family.
Sirius wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "So, how did old Snivellus react to all this? Don't tell me he just swept it under the rug. I'd expect at least a week of detention for breathing in his general direction."
Harry exchanged a glance with Ron and Hermione, his lips twitching into a small grin. "Actually, he didn't react like we expected."
Sirius arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Did he finally discover the concept of fairness? Or was he just too stunned to shout?"
"Well," Hermione began, her tone carefully measured as though she were still puzzling it out, "he did take five points from Gryffindor—for Harry not being careful with his Patronus."
"Of course he did," Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes. "Five points for daring to exist, I'm sure."
"But then," Ron chimed in, clearly enjoying this part, "he gave Harry ten points for handling the bat!"
Sirius froze mid-laugh, his mouth hanging open in mock disbelief. "Wait—what? Snape gave Gryffindor points? To Harry ? For doing something right?" He leaned back, looking to Remus for confirmation as if he couldn't trust his ears. "Moony, did I just hallucinate that?"
Remus chuckled softly. "It does seem uncharacteristic of Severus, but perhaps he's developing a shred of respect for Harry's abilities. Stranger things have happened."
Sirius still looked skeptical, folding his arms. "Respect for Harry? From Snape? I'll believe that when Filch starts singing Christmas carols in the corridors."
Ron laughed, nearly spilling his butterbeer. "That's what we thought! We were braced for detention, maybe even a howler or something. But nope—five points off and ten back on."
Hermione, ever the voice of reason, added, "I think Professor Snape recognised that Harry's handling of the situation prevented the Boggart from causing more chaos. He may not have liked it, but even he can't deny when something's done well."
Sirius shook his head, still baffled but clearly amused. "Never stopped him before from what I've heard. If Snape starts handing out praise like that regularly, I'll eat my wand. You must've caught him in an unusually good mood."
Harry smiled but didn't comment further. Truthfully, Snape's reaction had surprised him too. The man was still as sharp-tongued and cold as ever, but every now and then, he seemed to let his guard down enough to acknowledge Harry's efforts.
"Well, whatever the reason," Sirius said, lifting his butterbeer in a mock toast, "here's to Harry, Gryffindor's unlikely point-earner. And here's to Snape—begrudgingly admitting when he's impressed, even if it kills him a little inside."