average human’s Reviews > Avada Kedavra > Status Update

Daphne looked up at the sound of her name being called and raised a sculpted blonde brow at Susan. “Yes?”

“Ron would love to,” Susan yelled to her, causing the other Slytherin’s to take notice of them.

“Wonderful,” Daphne smiled towards Ron with her own slight blush now. “I’ll see you next weekend then?”

Ron looked a little sick, but he nodded jerkily. “I’ll see you next weekend.”

Harry looked between Ron and Daphne for a moment before he scowled. “You guys will see each other this weekend, we’ve got quidditch practice, don’t we?”

“Oh.” Daphne’s blush darkened as her sister giggled. “Yes, well... I’ll see you guys then.” She turned pointedly away from them amidst laughter from her friends.

“I... I don’t even...” Ron looked gobsmacked and looked up at Draco with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “What just happened?”

“You’re going to quidditch practice this weekend and Hogsmeade with Daphne next weekend,” Luna told him airily. “You really should pay more attention Ronald.”

Harry snorted just before the bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. Trust Ron to forget to ask someone out, causing her to do it herself.

Ron still looked shocked as Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Theo told the others goodbye and headed towards potions.

“Close your mouth, Ron,” Draco snickered. “You look like you just got hit by a quaffle.”

“Things like this just don’t happen to me,” Ron hissed as he looked around them furtively. “D’you guys reckon it’s a joke?”

“Could be,” Harry shrugged. “I thought Fred was pranking me when we went to Hogsmeade.”

Hermione frowned at Harry disapprovingly, which was a bit rude considering Harry was just being honest. “It is not a joke,” she told Ron. “Why wouldn’t Daphne want to go out with you? You’re a perfectly nice guy, reasonably fanciable, and you two have a lot in common. I’m positive it was a genuine offer.”

Ron seemed to have grown six inches as he thrust his chest out and smiled at Hermione appreciatively. “You think I’m fanciable?”

Hermione shook her head in exasperation while Theo narrowed his eyes at Ron.

“Of course that’s all you heard,” she sighed. “You’re a prat, Ronald.”

“A fanciable prat,” Draco laughed as they entered the potions classroom. “Watch yourself Ron, Theo will be stabbing your eye out next.”

“What’s this about stabbing eyeballs?” Slughorn asked as the five of them took the tables in the front of the room. “Surely it’s too early for that sort of violence.”

“It’s never too early for violence, sir,” Harry said brightly as he took his seat. “In fact, mornings are when people are at their slowest, so really it’s the best time for it.”

Slughorn roared with laughter while the other NEWT students filled in.

“Oh, I bet poor Severus has got his hands full with you, doesn’t he?” Slughorn winked. “‘Never too early for violence’, you’re a cheeky one Harry.”

Harry smiled politely as he got his book out of his bag. If Slughorn thought Harry was just being cheeky, so be it.

Harry really thought he wouldn’t like Slughorn, as exhausting as it was to be ‘political Harry’, who was charming and polite, but then during his first potion class he realized that Slughorn seemed as fond of ‘rude Harry’ as he was ‘charming Harry’, so he decided to go ahead and give the man a chance. Plus, if it wasn’t for Slughorn, then Harry never would have gotten Snape’s book.

And Snape’s book was brilliant.

It was hilarious, knowing Snape gave himself a name just as stupid as ‘Voldemort’, and even better once he realized how embarrassed Snape was about it, but the notes were the real draw of the book.

Snape and Harry didn’t really keep secrets from each other, and Harry knew almost everything about Snape, but it was different actually reading his personal notes. It was like Snape used his old potions book as a bit of a journal; making scathing remarks about his professors, comments on his ‘incompetent’ classmates, and general bits on his thoughts. Such as the notes surrounding the recipe they needed for today, Polyjuice—

’Polyjuice could be combined with an Everlasting Elixir for longer lasting results, but God forbid anyone be stuck blind as a bat and wearing hideous glasses forever.’

Harry was pretty sure that was an insult against his own father, but it was also funny and insightful so Harry laughed when he subtly pointed it out to Draco.

“‘The Prince’ is a bit of a git, isn’t he?” Draco murmured with a grin. He slid Harry the boomslang skin that needed shaved.

“A brilliant bastard,” Harry laughed quietly. “Some things never change.”

It didn’t take Harry and Draco the entire hour and a half to prepare their ingredients and get them combined to start step one of what was apparently a month long process. Draco scooted over to help Ron prepare his ingredients, since there were an odd number of students in their NEWT class and he didn’t have a partner, and Harry poured through his textbook.

Harry’s eyes flicked over the spells Snape wrote, his lips curling up at the ones he marked ‘for enemies’ and made a mental note to ask him what they were for.

“Your mother liked to read too,” Slughorn said thoughtfully as he paused by Harry’s table and saw Harry focusing entirely on his textbook. He gave Harry a wistful smile and shook his head slightly. “She was a genius, she could have been the first muggleborn to dual-qualify for a charms and potions mastery. It’s a shame...”

Harry sucked his bottom lip in for a moment as he cocked his head at Slughorn. “How many people do you know that double mastered, sir?”

Slughorn looked taken aback for a moment by Harry’s question, but he scrunched his face up in thought for a moment. “Hmm...” Slughorn tapped his chin, “three wizards, that I know of.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to just say she would have been the fourth person to get a dual mastery then, sir?” Harry said politely. “Then you don’t sound like a bigot.”

In the absolute silence that filled the classroom, Hermione hiss out a shocked gasp, and Harry thought he heard Theo groan, but Slughorn didn’t look offended at all. He just blinked heavily at Harry for a moment before bursting in to a loud and boisterous laugh.

“You are just like your mother!” he roared. “My God, the cheek, the wit! You are Lily Evans all over again, lad!”

Harry just kept smiling politely.

He still hadn’t been joking.

But whatever.

Harry was just pleased as they left the classroom and he’d won another five points for Slytherin. At this rate, he’d single-handedly win the house cup without even getting some outrageous bonus for some crazy event happening.

“I hate everything about you,” Draco grouched as they made their way across the castle to the defense classroom. “Only Harry freakin Potter could mouth off to a teacher and get rewarded for it.”

“Pains of fame,” Harry quipped, unconcerned. “Can’t imagine why you’re complaining Dray, we’re in the same house. When I shine you shine,” he grinned.

“I’ll hold him down, you kill him,” Theo muttered to Draco with a small grin.

They were still arguing over who had the harder job in that scenario when they arrived in the defense classroom.

Since Sirius accepted students with an acceptable in his defense class, it was the largest of Harry’s four NEWTS with sixteen sixth years mixed together. Apparently NEWT classes were all houses, which was brill because it meant Harry’s friends shared classes now, but it also meant...

“Potter,” Finnigan sneered when Harry walked through the doorway at the same time as him. “Come to show off some more?”

“Yup.” Harry smiled sharply at Finnigan and twitched his hand quickly enough to cause the other boy to flinch and step away from him. “Somebody has to,” Harry said over his friends laughter.

“That’s enough,” Sirius said firmly from the front of the classroom. Harry saw his eyes were sparkling though, so he figured he wasn’t actually mad. “No fighting before we even start today, huh guys? Save it for class.”

“Are we dueling today, Professor?” Susan asked as she took her seat next to Harry.

Sirius was practically bouncing in place with excitement. “We are,” he told them. He waited until everyone took their seats before he pulled his wand out in a dramatic flourish. “Alright guys, so Monday we talked about the benefits of nonverbal spells over verbal ones, but what I’d like to do today is actually start on an easy nonverbal spell, expelliarmus. If you can disarm your opponent silently, it’ll be more likely to take them by surprise, which will make you more successful. Now! Who wants to volunteer to help me demonstrate?”

Sirius shook his head at Harry’s immediately raised hand. “Do you have your wand with you? Because this is easier to show with wands.”

“I’ll do it, sir,” Susan said after Harry reluctantly lowered his hand.

“Perfect.” Sirius clapped his hands together while Susan made her way to the front. “Alright, Miss Bones, if you would ever so kindly pull your wand and point it at me, perfect.”

Sirius and Susan stood across from each other, their wands raised, and Harry had an irrational feeling of irritation to see someone pointing their wand at Susan.

He knew it was a demonstration.

He was pretty sure Sirius wouldn’t ever actually hurt Susan.

But the last person who faced off against her caused her arm to be amputated, so Harry wasn’t a fan.

“We’ll have Miss Patil count us down,” Sirius told Susan. “When she says go, I want you to try and silently disarm me, alright?”

Susan nodded, a grin flitting around her lips. “Yes, sir.”

“On your count then Miss Patil.”

Padma sat up and cleared her throat. “Three... two... one... go!”

Sirius had Susan’s wand in his hand before Harry could hardly blink.

Sirius definitely never did that when they dueled over the summer.

“You hustled me!” Harry cried indignantly, forgetting entirely that they were in class. “You can fuckin cast nonverbally?”

Sirius had the fucking audacity to grin at Harry. “We’re in class, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Harry grit out.

“Yes, sir.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, “No need to call me sir, Professor.”

The thunk of a head on a desk was probably Ron this time, but Harry was busy being assigned his first ever detention from Sirius to actually check.

24%

Thursday went great, with McGonagall and Flitwick working more on practical magic than they were theories, and then finally, finally, it was Friday.

“Are you coming to breakfast?” Trent asked Harry while the other boys were rushing around their dorm getting dressed Friday morning.

Harry yawned and stretched across his bed with a lazy smile. “Nope.”

“I hate everything that you choose to be about,” Theo told him deadpan. “Trent, Harry is a perfect example of a Slytherin with no ambition.”

“Harry’s going to be Minister of Magic,” Trent said loyally. “I think that’s the most ambitious career aspiration I’ve ever heard of.”

“Ta,” Harry told him as he nuzzled his pillow.

“Let me tell you about Harry’s campaign plan, then you can decide if he’s ambitious or lazy,” Blaise laughed. He slung his arm around Trent’s shoulders and guided him towards the door. “It starts with announcing, ‘Harry Potter is running for minister’, then it ends with him winning in a landslide.”

Harry scoffed as Blaise underrepresented his plans to Trent. It also involved defeating Timmy and reminding people he did that, which was quite a bit of work apparently, but the two of them were already gone before he could correct him.

“I can’t believe you get to sleep all day,” Ron grumbled as he tied his trainers.

“‘M not sleeping all day,” Harry murmured, already mostly back asleep. “‘M also flying later.”

Ron, very rudely, slammed the dorm door rather loudly when he left with Draco and Theo. But, since Harry figured he was just regretting taking Herbology for a NEWT, he just shrugged and went back to sleep.

Sixth year was brilliant.



When Harry woke up later, he took his time showering and getting dressed before he popped down to the kitchen for whatever meal people have that falls between breakfast and lunch.

Brunch?

Leakfast?

He was pretty sure he’d heard Cissa talk about a ‘brunch appointment’ before, so probably not leakfast.

After he ate ‘brunch’, and gossiped for a bit with Mavis who returned to the castle when he did, Harry headed out to the deserted quidditch field and quickly summoned his Firebolt 100 from the locker room.

I should have brought this broom home with me over the summer, he thought as he happily zoomed around the pitch.

Harry flew, dodged, dove, and even got a snitch out to practice with until he was interrupted after only an hour by someone on the ground yelling at him. Harry flew downwards and laughed when he saw Trent waving a broomstick around with a brunette Gryffindor girl with her own broom standing beside him.

“We ditched history!” Trent yelled with a proud smile. “Can we fly too?”

“Course,” Harry agreed when he was hovering only a few feet above the two of them, it wasn’t like he owned the skies. “Who’s this?”

“Sapphire Herron,” the girl said with a grin. “Thanks for ‘definitely not killing Umbridge’,” she winked before holding up her right hand where Harry could see faint white scars across the back. “I owe you one.”

Harry’s mind went fuzzy with anger for a moment before he reminded himself that he killed Umbridge and he occluded the anger right out of his head.

“You said it, not me,” he smirked. “What position do you play Sapphire?”

“I’m trying out for chaser this year,” she said. “Trent said you learned all the positions before you applied to be captain?”

“Yup.”

“Wicked,” she beamed. “Ginny Weasley is our captain this year, but maybe if I learn all the positions I can ask Professor Black if I can have it next year instead.”

“Brill.” Harry slowly started floating back upwards. “Why don’t you go get a quaffle and we can play opposite each other while Trent keeps?”

“Yes! Thank you!”

Trent was pink in the face as he watched his friend run off.

“Is this the same Sapphire that you fancy and had sleepovers with over the summer?” Harry asked Trent with a grin.

“Nope. Different one,” Trent said solemnly.

“Riiiiight.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

When Sapphire returned with the quaffle, the three of them spent the rest of the afternoon outside flying. Trent had practiced hard over the summer with Sirius, Draco, and Ron and was becoming a damn good keeper. Leagues better than Harry was anyway.

Not that Harry would admit that out loud.

And Sapphire was already a decent chaser. It was more of a challenge to get the quaffle away from her than Harry originally thought it would be.

“My mum played for the Harpies,” Sapphire explained while the three of them eventually trooped back towards the castle, sweaty and filthy. “I heard you got picked for the Arrows though, didn’t you Harry? Why didn’t you play for them at their last match?”

Harry stuck his fists in his pockets and shrugged. “Timmy— Voldemort,” he said when she looked confused, “killed the teams owner so they reckoned I was a liability and kicked me off the team.”

“What a bastard!” Sapphire gasped, scandalized. “That’s worse than killing your parents, I think.”

Harry gave her a queer look at that. Sapphire must take quidditch really bloody seriously to think something so mad, but he just hummed.

“I blew his house up in revenge,” Harry confided told her in a whisper.

“Good,” she whispered back with a mischievous grin. “Next time maybe do it while he’s home, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Harry laughed while holding the door open to the Great Hall for her and Trent. “If you feel like skipping history again next Friday, I’ll be on the field.”

“Um... maybe the Friday after that,” she said slowly with a look at Trent. “Even Binns will notice if we’re literally never in class.”

“If you say so,” Harry shrugged. “See ya.”

Harry and Trent swerved over towards the Slytherin table while Sapphire ran off towards the Gryffindor table.

“She’s weird,” Harry told him.

“I’m going to marry her one day,” Trent said in a wistful voice. “Maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, but definitely before we’re thirty.”

Harry was still laughing at Trent’s soppy smile while they took their seats.

Though, his smile was wiped off his face just a few minutes in to dinner when Snape and McGonagall approached their group with solemn looks on their faces.

“It wasn’t us,” Susan said immediately.

“It was Neville,” said Draco.

“Hey!”

“Might have been me,” Harry grinned. His grin faltered as neither McGonagall nor Snape looked very amused. “Er... we’re kidding, what’s up?”

“Harry, can you come with us for a moment?” Snape asked. “We need to talk with you and it is rather important.”

Harry felt a slight tremor of unease run through his hands, but he tucked them under his armpits and adopted a polite mask of indifference.

“Of course, sir,” he said. He pushed away his dinner plate and got to his feet. Snape stared hard at Harry for a moment before sighing and turning to stride out of the Hall, McGonagall beside him, and the Hall full of whispers behind Harry as he followed the two.

Neither of them said anything as they walked to McGonagall’s office, which heightened Harry’s nerves and had him moving his hands to his pocket where he could stroke his penknife soothingly.

You just saw all your friends, he reminded himself. Almost all your people are at Hogwarts, they couldn’t be hurt, you just saw them.

Except Fred.

Fuck.

He should have called him when he woke up.

Harry actually felt like he was going to be sick by the time they made it to McGonagall’s office and Snape closed the door behind them.

“Harry, breathe,” Snape murmured quietly. “In and out, slowly.”

Harry sucked in a breath and tried to blink away the white spots threatening to overwhelm his vision. “What’s going on?” he asked tightly.

“Harry, where were you today?” McGonagall asked.

“Bed, then flying,” Harry said, trying to figure out how that was relevant to what he was sure she was about to tell him.

Not Fred, not Fred, not Fred.

“Can anyone confirm that?” Snape asked Harry, placing his hand on his shoulder.

Harry shook his hand off and stepped backwards, getting some space from the two of them. “Trent and a girl from Gryffindor, Sapphire,” he said. “What’s going on? Is Fred okay?”

“Fred?” McGonagall looked surprised at Harry’s question, which loosed the horribly tight knot in his chest. “Fred Weasley? He’s fine, I believe. This is about Seamus Finnigan.”

“What?” Harry blinked in surprise and looked between Snape and McGonagall for a moment. “Er... I apologize, but what’s going on?”

“Seamus Finnigan was attacked with a knife and had his memory wiped of the event,” Snape said bluntly. “Did you do it?”

“What?” Harry started to smile, but realized that would actually not help him right now, and instead shook his head solemnly. “No, sir, I didn’t. I really was in bed until after breakfast then I went flying until just a few minutes ago. You can ask Trent, he was with me while I was on the field.”

“The whole time?” Snape asked.

“Er...” Harry didn’t really want to get Trent in trouble, but only slightly less than he wanted to be in trouble. “Since before his History of Magic class,” he admitted. “But he shouldn’t get detention for skipping since he didn’t technically get caught,” he added hastily.

McGonagall snorted quietly and went to her desk to dig through the drawer for a moment. “You said Sapphire? Sapphire Herron was with you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

McGonagall checked a parchment she pulled out of her desk and nodded at Snape. “Their class started at one. If they confirm they were with Harry, then it wasn’t him. Poppy said Finnigan was attacked around two thirty.”

Snape let out a sigh and gave Harry an apologetic look. “Apologies, Harry. You’re free to go.”

Harry looked between the two professors with a bemused expression. “I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but- but was I really your first suspect?”

“You do have a penchant for stabbing people,” McGonagall scoffed before she gave Harry a warmer look that was nearly a smile. “I am sorry Harry, I know you and Finnigan don’t get along, I merely thought perhaps the two of you had a fight that got out of hand.”

“Riiiight.” Harry furrowed his brows for a moment. “So, again, I’m not being rude or anything, but I handed out like thirty knives as Christmas gifts to the students in my club, didn’t I? And most of them are decent enough with them, soooo... so I don’t really think I should have been your first suspect.”

Snape put his hand on Harry’s shoulder again and turned him towards the door. “I’ll just take Harry back to dinner before he gets himself another detention Minerva,” he said. “I will check with Mister Bailey and Miss Herron, but I am certain Harry is telling the truth. Goodnight, Minerva.”

Harry let Snape lead him out to the corridor, then immediately brushed his hand off. “What the fuck?” he whispered with a glare. “You know I’m not the only bloke walking around here with a knife.”

“I know,” Snape said calmly. “Yet you are the first suspect when a student has been stabbed in the kidney, his memory swiped, then left for dead on the dungeon floors.”

That...

That didn’t even make sense.

“If I killed Finnigan, I would have put him in the Room of Secrets or Slytherin’s Chamber,” Harry said thoughtfully. “And I probably would have aimed for the heart, not the kidneys. That’s what I taught the defense club to do.”

“I am pleased you will not be pursuing a position as a barrister in the future,” Snape drawled with a roll of his eyes. He walked alongside Harry in silence for a few moments before clearing his throat lightly. “You truly did not have an altercation with Finnigan today?”

“Nope. I’m not a fuckin liar, Sev. I would have told you if I did it.”

Harry wasn’t lying, and he also wasn’t stupid.

If he attacked Finnigan, he wouldn’t have left him for dead, he would be dead.

And they never would have found his body.

“I wonder who did it,” Harry mused aloud when they were approaching the hall.

“Finnigan is an idiot boy who goes out of his way to spew vitriol about Slytherin students,” Snape said. “I am certain that it was one of the thirty other ‘students walking around with a knife’.”

Harry’s good cheer returned to him as he slid back in his seat and Snape didn’t even bother to ask Bailey for his alibi. Harry figured it meant either Snape trusted Harry’s word, or he would cover for him even if Harry did do it. Either way it was decent of him.

“What happened?” Ron asked, his face pale beneath his freckles.

“Someone stabbed Finnigan in the kidney and Snape and McGonagall thought it was me.” Harry shrugged and accepted the fresh plate of food that Susan slid to him. “You ready for practice tomorrow?”

“No- wait- what?” Neville leaned over the table to stare incredulously at Harry. “Is Seamus dead?”

Harry frowned and shook his head. “No,” he said sadly. “He’s still alive.”

“Why’d Snape accuse you?” Hermione asked.

“Because someone stabbed Finnigan,” Draco said pointedly. “That narrows the suspect list a bit, doesn’t it?”

“Not really. Half of Hogwarts got pocket knives for Christmas,” Hermione said logically, proving why she was in Ravenclaw.

Honestly.

As much as everyone told him it was a terrible idea, it was like they all suddenly forgot Harry bought loads of students knives for gifts last Christmas.

“But what I meant was, does Seamus not know who attacked him?” Hermione asked Harry.

“Nope. They wiped his memory, didn’t they?” Harry glanced at Susan and raised a brow. “Did you do it?”

“I wish,” Susan said darkly. “Finnigan and Ginevra are on my list.”

Even Ron didn’t say anything against that, God forbid he be added to the list next.

A few of them did shudder though, being on Susan’s list was as much of a death sentence as being on Harry’s.

“Maybe it was Crabbe or Goyle,” Theo said in a hushed whisper as he snuck a narrow eyed look down the table where the two of them were sitting alone. “They are the actual death eaters in the castle.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, entirely unconcerned. “But if their plan was to kill him, they fucked up. And if their plan was to pin it on me, they still fucked up. I didn’t even get detention, did I?”

“Did you tell McGonagall that I was with you today?” Trent asked.

“Yup.”

“Did you tell her I skipped history?”

“Yup.”

Trent groaned and threw a bean off his plate at Harry’s forehead. “I hate you.”

“You don’t,” Harry grinned cockily. “Now, back to something important... quidditch.”

28%
I love the writing.

“I know,” Snape murmured. “I will offer you no empty platitudes, Harry. If it is your Weasley—”

Harry whimpered.

His Weasley.

His Fred.

Joyful, optimistic, warm, Fred.

Harry clenched his left hand, feeling the ring tight on his finger as he did.

“—then we will do what we must,” Snape went on. “And what we must continue to do, is to live. Live and fight.”

Harry knew that was just more bullshit speech.

Everyone could dress up their words however they wanted, but the underlying messages were simple.

‘We must continue to live,’ just meant:

‘Don’t kill yourself, buddy.’

Which Harry would probably do anyway as soon as he knew for sure whose organs were inside the fucking box.

He’d summon his gun and blow his brain out across Dumbledore’s office before he suffered through a lifetime of grieving for the person who loved him the most in the entire universe.

Fred knew about every life Harry took. Fred knew about Harry’s past. Fred had seen Harry in the middle of an embarrassing breakdown. He’d seen him weak. He’d seen him strong. He’d seen him mean.

And he loved him anyway.

“We have to march in there, but once we do, we are going to get to the bottom of this,” Snape whispered commandingly. “And the instant we have a definitive answer, we will floo from Albus’ office to my office, then directly home. Do you understand, Harry?”

Harry nodded against Snape’s chest.

He understood that Snape was planning for the worst.

Because surely Timmy decided that taking Harry’s parents from him on October 31st, fifteen years ago, wasn’t enough. Now he took two more lives of Harry’s people and sent Harry the direct proof of their deaths.

Timmy was probably laughing like a maniac in whatever hiding spot he had now as he imagined Harry’s reaction.

’Haha, Harry, you’ll be alone forever because I’ve killed your people.’

He never should have gotten so fucking attached to all these very kill-able people.

“We are going to enter Albus’ office now with our heads held high as we do not have any information yet,” Snape said quietly. He pulled Harry back by his shoulders and stared in his eyes. “The instant that we do, I will assist you in burning the world to ash if that is what you desire. Until then, stand by my side and lift your head. Excellent,” he said as Harry reluctantly lifted his head. “We are entering the office now.”

Snape turned Harry to the door, easily moving his arm across Harry’s shoulders.

“Count your inhales and exhales,” Snape said as he reached for the handle. “Focus on the weight of my arm on your shoulders, the smells of Albus’ office, the ghastly colors of his robes. Focus on your surroundings, Harry. Are you ready?”

No.

“Ready,” Harry said dully.

If Susan was his soul,

Snape was his brain,

and Luna was his heart,

then Fred was the refreshing air that flowed through his lungs.

Harry couldn’t survive without air.

And he could already feel it restricting as Snape turned the doorknob and he became that much closer to hearing the inevitable.

Despite his efforts to adopt a mask of utter boredom like Snape wore, Harry must look terrible because Sirius jumped to his feet and gave him a pitying look.

“Jesus, Pup.” Sirius conjured a chair for Harry the instant he stepped in the room. “Sit.”

“I’d rather stand,” said Harry. His eyes flicked to the box on Dumbledore’s desk then immediately ticked up to the Headmaster then over to McGonagall and finally settling on the bright red phoenix on a golden stand near the window.

“Harry, do you have any idea who sent you this box?” McGonagall asked him.

Harry shrugged, but Snape’s arm masked the movement, so he shook his head instead. “Probably pretty damn obvious, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” she asked.

“D’you know who they belong to?” Harry asked her, impatient now to speed up this slow suffocation.

When Harry eventually died one day, he hoped it was quick. Because this slow death was the worst torture he’d ever experienced.

Snape guided Harry to the chair Sirius made and conjured himself an identical one so they could sit off to the side of the room, in front of a bookcase and a portrait of a man that kept giving Harry a sad frown. Harry wouldn’t have sat, considering he just said he didn’t want to, but since Snape sat, either Harry had to dislodge his arm from his shoulders or sit too.

And if he dislodged his arm, he might jump out Dumbledore’s office window.

So he sat.

“We do not,” McGonagall said. “Although—”

“LET ME IN RIGHT MOTHER FUCKING NOW!! HEY! LET ME IN!! I WILL KICK THIS DOOR DOWN!!”

Harry startled at the sound of Susan’s voice coming from a small silver trinket on Dumbledore’s desk.

“Merlin, the mouth on her,” McGongall murmured with a shocked look at the trinket.

“That would be Miss Bones,” Dumbledore said with a small smile. He tapped his wand to the silver trinket and Harry got on his feet as he heard Susan storming up the steps to the office.

Damn she was fast.

Harry lunged for the door the instant it was thrown open and Susan was holding up a mirror—

A mirror with Fred’s face in it.

Harry’s lungs expanded with the first breath that didn’t hurt that he’s had since opening the box.

”Son of a bitch,” Harry hissed in Parsletongue (Susan could curse in English all she wanted, but Dumbledore already expelled Harry once, he wouldn’t give him a chance to do it twice). Harry snatched the mirror from Susan and stared down in it with relief.

“Fred?” he whispered, easily moving side by side with Susan as they stood in the open doorway.

“Hey darlin,” Fred yawned. His hair was mussed up and his eyes were a little bleary, as if he just woke up. “What’s going on?”

Harry glanced up and caught Dumbledore’s curious eyes.

“Er... nothing,” Harry said. “You and George are working today?”

“George is opening the shop right now, since I overslept,” Fred said with a lopsided smile. “What trouble have you gotten in to already?”

”None” Harry clutched the mirror in his hands tightly as he memorized every freckle on Fred’s face. “You remember our first date, when we stole that case of butterbeer?”

Fred scrunched his eyebrows together and squinted at Harry. “Must have been your other boyfriend,” he said, “because we broke in to the Shrieking Shack and then went to Zonko’s and I met Sirius on our first date.”

Harry let out a heavy sigh and smiled slightly. “Just checking it was actually you,” he said. “I gotta go.”

”Alrighty, darlin, wanna call me later and tell me why you’re in the headmaster’s office?”

“How’d you know that?” Susan asked over Harry’s shoulder.

“Been there enough times to recognize the door, haven’t I?”

Harry heard Dumbledore and McGongall chuckle, which was a good reminder of where he was and what was going on.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Harry said quickly. “Call me if anything happens today, yeah? I’ll keep this with me.”

All the time.

He would carry this mirror all the time.

He couldn’t handle the constant fucking anxiety of wondering if Fred was dead or not.

Fuck.

He would have to kill Timmy and Dumbledore before graduation or else this feeling would just be worse when none of his friends were constantly with him.

“Okay, I love you,” Fred said. “Talk to you tonight.”

Harry nodded and ended their connection. He pocketed the mirror and felt a faint blush on his cheeks. He defiantly lifted his chin and dared anyone to say anything.

“You thought the hearts belonged to Fred and George Weasley?” Dumbledore asked him as he sat down in his desk chair.

Susan grabbed Harry’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Well, they’re identical hearts, aren’t they?” Harry said with as much neutrality to his tone as he could considering Dumbledore tried to kill him in May. “I only know two identical people.”

Nobody laughed, but the look on Snape’s face seemed like they were close to it.

“I also thought they were identical and from the Weasley twins,” Susan said, like a loyal liar.

Susan didn’t even see the hearts.

“Pup,” Sirius grinned over his shoulder at Harry, “there’s literally a pair of identical twins in your year here.”

“Are there?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Padma and Parvati,” Susan murmured.

“Oh. Well I doubt someone would send me their hearts, would they?” Harry said with a glare as Sirius huffed out a laugh.

“Most hearts look remarkably similar,” Snape said smoothly. “I can understand your confusion, and I am quite relieved that your Weasley is fine.”

“Yeah me too,” Harry said with a small grin for him. He knew Snape was only pretending to hate Fred. He also saw the subtle look towards his chair Snape gave, but he didn’t want to sit really. He glanced back at McGonagall, choosing to address her rather than Dumbledore.

“I apologize that I was rude before, ma’am,” he said politely.

McGonagall gave him a small smile and inclined her head slightly. “I understand you were concerned,” she said warmly. “Although, I admit that I do not find the sender of this box to be ‘pretty damn obvious’, would you mind giving me your best guess?”

“Timmy,” Harry said confidently.

Who else was fucking mad enough to send Harry human hearts on the anniversary of the day he became an orphan?

McGonagall glanced at Sirius, who bit his lip in an effort to stifle his laughter and shook his head.

“Who is Timmy?” McGonagall asked Harry, mystified.

“Voldemort,” Harry shrugged. “He prefers to be called Timmy though, if you ever meet him.”

Harry had no idea what caused Dumbledore to start chuckling, but that’s what the old man did. He started chuckling, along with several of the portraits on the wall. Susan clenched Harry’s hand tightly for a moment, as if Dumbledore’s laughter pissed her off as much as it did Harry.

It probably did.

She hated Dumbledore.

“My God,” McGonagall sighed. “Harry, I genuinely have no idea what is wrong with you.”

Harry shrugged.

Lots of things really.

Lupin and Snape could probably give her a list.

“Can you diagnose the hearts or something and find out who they belong to, ma’am?” Harry asked her.

“No,” McGonagall said simply. She stepped around the desk and sat next to Sirius, leaving Harry and Susan as the only ones standing.

Which Harry preferred really.

“Sir?” Harry asked Snape.

“I cannot,” Snape told him. “We will have to send the organs with Madame Bones to be tested by the Ministry.”

“‘Kay,” Harry shrugged. “Can I go then?”

“I would prefer it if you waited for Madame Bones to arrive, please,” Dumbledore said softly from behind his desk. Harry glanced at him, but he kept his eyes averted to his desktop, as if he knew Harry didn’t want to have him even look at him. “She will probably want to hear from you about your theory on Timmy,” his beard twitched, “sending you the box.”

Harry clenched his jaw then focused on the swirling golden threads in Dumbledore’s purple robes and nodded his head shortly.

It was a pretty awkward silence after that.

Sirius finally cleared his throat and scooted the chair he was in to the side until he could see Dumbledore behind the desk and Harry in front of the doorway both. “The mirrors working alright then?” he asked Harry brightly.

“Yes,” Harry responsed curtly.

Harry knew Sirius couldn’t stand silence, but Harry didn’t want to talk about his mirrors in front of Dumbledore. He wouldn’t give him an opportunity to try and ban them or something daft.

“They were easy to make, really,” Sirius said, “not even a single rule broken with them.”

Harry and McGonagall both scoffed.

As if Sirius had ever done anything as a student that didn’t break a rule or two.

Sirius chuckled just as the fire in Dumbledore’s giant fireplace flashed green and Susan’s aunt Amelia stepped out, quickly followed by Tonks. Amelia stepped over to Harry and Susan while Tonks took the seat by Snape and whispered something quickly in his ear.

“Harry, Susan,” Amelia gave them a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Bad morning?” she asked them lightly.

“I’ve had worse,” Harry said truthfully.

Amelia nodded and conjured two small chairs directly behind Harry and Susan. “Well, have a seat, because I’ve got some news and I’m not quite sure how you’ll take it.”

Probably fine.

Harry could see Snape, Susan, and Sirius in this room.

He just talked to Fred.

Blaise, Hermione, Theo, Draco, Ron, Trent, Neville, and Luna were all at breakfast.

And that was basically all the people Harry cared about.

So whatever Amelia had to say, would probably be fine.

Harry went ahead and sat though, no need to directly ignore the Head of the DMLE.

Amelia and Tonks exchanged a loaded look before Amelia sighed and moved to kneel in front of Harry.

Harry hadn’t noticed before, but Amelia’s eyes were the same shade of teal as Susan’s. She also had little freckles on her nose, and bags beneath her eyes.

“Harry, your... relatives,” she said carefully, “were found dead in their home this morning with the dark mark above the house. We went to investigate, and... and it wasn’t pretty. That’s where the organs must have came from.”

“Cissa?!” Harry yelped, not registering the plural suggestion in ‘relatives’.

Jesus Christ, how could he have forgotten his own cousin?!

“What?” Amelia’s nose scrunched for a moment. “No, Vernon and Petunia Dursley.”

Harry inhaled very slowly.

He exhaled very slowly.

He cleared his mind.

He poked at his mental barriers.

He focused on the scent of Amelia in front of him, a nice floral smell that Susan sometimes smelled like, maybe a shared brand of shampoo?

Harry did anything to distract his mind so he didn’t actually laugh in front of all these people.

What the fuck? Why would anyone bother killing the Dursley’s and sending Harry their hearts?

Also...

Vernon Dursley didn’t have a very good few months recently, did he?

And he’s dead now.

Can’t live without a heart.

Hateful prick.

“Oh,” Harry said, as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t start laughing. “I see.”

Amelia gave Harry a knowing look, somehow understanding that Harry wasn’t all that torn up over it.

“I believe they suffered quite a bit,” Amelia said in what sounded like a sympathetic tone, but she also winked at Harry, so he wasn’t really sure what the fuck was going on. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you.”

Another wink.

Amelia was not sorry, she was mad.

And Harry loved it.

“That’s horrible,” Susan sighed, sounding just as sympathetic as Amelia. “What about Harry’s cousin, Dudley? Was he tortured as well?”

Susan was a much better actress than Harry was actor. He had to duck his head to hide the smile that tried betraying him in front of everyone.

“The fat kid?” Tonks asked. “He’s fine, he’s at some weird school full of other fat kids.”

If Harry didn’t have Fred, and Tonks didn’t fancy Snape, he might have snogged her in that moment.

He’d definitely have to do something nice for her to repay her for that comment eventually anyway.

’The fat kid.’

How many times had Dudley called Harry a speccy, scrawny, midget?

As if it wasn’t his own parents fault for not feeding Harry.

“Ah,” Harry said. He bit his lower lip and tried to look a little sad, just an act as he expected everyone thought he would react sadly to this news.

Except for Amelia.

Who specifically informed him the Dursley’s were tortured and suffered before winking where nobody could see.

Clearly Susan got her acting skills from her aunt.

Even if Amelia was a cop, Harry might have fallen just a bit in love with her.

“You’re certain, Madame Bones?” Dumbledore asked, sounding grave.

Amelia got to her feet and turned to face the Headmaster. “I am,” she said. “Their chests were cut open, their hearts missing. They both bore signs of long-term exposure to the cruciatus curse, and Vernon Dursley was missing multiple fingers.”

Harry ducked his head again and peeked over at Susan.

Well, that hadn’t been Timmy at all, had it?

The finger part, anyway.

“How tragic,” McGonagall said drily. “They sounded like such a lovely couple too.”

“A terrible end for wonderful people,” Sirius said cheerfully. “Well, if that’s all this was, then I’m off to teach classes then, I’ll see you all at the feast tonight.”

Sirius clapped Harry’s shoulder and whistled merrily as he strolled right out of Dumbledore’s office.

If Sirius wasn’t bothering to act, Harry wouldn’t either.

“And you’re sure it was death eaters?” Harry asked Amelia curiously. “And you’re definitely sure they’re dead?”

“Yes, and yes,” Amelia told him. “The dark mark has been found above other homes with similar muggle attacks recently. This one was obviously... different,” she said with a glance at the box on Dumbledore’s desk, “but dark magic had definitely been performed there. And I’ve got the bodies in a morgue in the ministry, waiting for an official identification, but they’re definitely dead.”

“I can ID them,” Harry offered. “I don’t have classes today anyway.”

And he desperately wanted to see for sure that they were dead.

“Me either,” Susan lied.

“Severus?” Amelia asked Snape. “We can close this case up quickly if Harry were to make the official ID.”

Snape looked at Harry and searched his face for a moment before nodding slightly. “If Harry wants to do it, he is welcome to,” he said. “Amelia, would you kindly remain with him until you return him to the castle though? Harry seems to have a knack for disasters happening on Halloween.”

Harry grinned.

Snape was still mad about the Triwizard Tournament apparently.

As if today didn’t top that day by a long shot.

“Of course,” Amelia agreed. “Albus, I am taking Harry and Susan and will return them after lunch.”

Forget Fred and Tonks both, Harry might marry Amelia actually.

She didn’t ask the Headmaster of the school, she told him.

“Your aunt is the best,” Harry murmured to Susan before the stepped in the floo behind Amelia.

Susan beamed over at him, “I know.”

Then they floo’d side-by-side to Amelia Bone’s office.



As soon as Harry tripped out of the floo, he was caught in a warm hug.

He would have yanked backwards, but he could smell Amelia’s shampoo and was more confused than anything.

“You’re okay?” Amelia asked.

“Er...” Harry patted her awkwardly on the back. “I’m very sad on the inside?”

Amelia chuckled and let go of Harry. “No you’re not.”

“No, he isn’t,” Susan said. “Can we go see the dead bodies?”

Amelia rolled her eyes at Susan while Harry quickly tossed his cloak over himself.

He’d been paraded through the Ministry before, he had no desire to do so again on the anniversary of his parents death. It would be like accepting condolences from his classmates times a hundred, except worse because Harry couldn’t just hiss once these people started to annoy him.

Amelia led Harry and Susan through the aurors office, which was abuzz with quiet conversations, and took them to the lifts. They were all quiet as they descended to the lower levels of the Ministry.

“Why weren’t they taken to St Mungo’s?” Susan murmured as they walked through deserted and dark corridors in a maze so complex that Harry was having a hard time memorizing the escape route.

“We have to ID them here, then release the bodies to the muggles,” Amelia explained. “If we don’t do an autopsy here, then the report isn’t as ironclad when we write it up as a crime.”

“But...” Susan hesitated, “but... didn’t you go to St Mungo’s to identify mum and dad?”

Harry never really heard Susan talk about her parents, aside from a little comment here or there, so his ears perked up a bit.

“I did,” Amelia said softly. She moved over so she could stand beside Susan and Harry saw her grab Susan’s hand. “They weren’t pronounced dead on scene, the healers at St Mungo’s tried to save them. That’s why they were already there.”

“Oh, right,” Susan said quietly. Harry felt a pang of envy as Susan suddenly smiled adoringly up at her aunt. “I love you, Auntie.”

“And I love you,” Amelia said warmly.

How come Harry and Susan were orphaned in the same war, but she got Amelia Bones and Harry got Petunia Dursley?

Harry would have done anything to have Snape be the one that took him in when he was a baby. Or Sirius. Or Amelia. Or even Draco’s parents.

His whole life could have been different.

He could have been different.

But it was too late now.

”And we love you,” Susan smiled towards where Harry was walking beneath his cloak, ripping him from his jealous thoughts.

”You’re my favorite honorary son,” Amelia added with a wink.

”Honorary nothing,” Susan scoffed. “Harry’s my brother, my soulmate, so he’s your nephew, like it or not.”

Amelia chuckled and then stopped in front of a thick metal door with no markers on it. Harry slipped the cloak off his head, keeping it around the rest of his body just in case though.

“Susan, wait out here,” Amelia said sternly. “Harry, are you certain you want to do this? It isn’t pretty. I’m sure Albus or Severus could ID them instead if you’d like,” she said much more softly.

“I’m sure,” Harry said. He squared his shoulders as Amelia opened the door and they stepped inside.

“Fuck,” Harry gasped in shock. “It’s bloody cold, isn’t it?”

The room was empty, aside from a large metal table in the center of it with white cloth covered lumps. There were dozens of drawers lining the walls, and it was the coldest damn room Harry had ever been in.

“Yeah, it has to be,” Amelia said. Despite not being able to see Harry’s body, she was able to place her hand on his back and gently guide him forward. “Are you ready?” she whispered.

Harry nodded, and Amelia lowered the sheet off just their faces.

That was them.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley.

It had been years since he’d seen them, and they looked older, and certainly more swollen and bruised than they once had, but...

But that was them.

Harry stared down at Vernon’s face and thought of the last time he saw him. He’d been young, only eight, but you don’t forget the person who beat the hell out of you then abruptly kicked you to the streets the next morning.

“‘Boy’ he called me,” Harry murmured absently as he stared down at him. “He said I was a freak, worthless, didn’t even deserve a name or a bedroom really. He told me to ‘get the hell out’, if he ever saw my face again he’d call the police and have me locked up forever.”

Amelia made a soft sound that Harry ignored as he slowly reached out and touched the side of Vernon’s swollen cheek.

“He’s dead,” Harry whispered wondrously. “He hated me, and now he’s dead.” Harry ducked down a little so he could look right in Vernon’s face. His lips twisted in to a cruel smile. “D’you hear me? You’re dead and I’m not. ‘Boy’ is alive and you’re dead.”

Vernon Dursley had been one of the first people who wanted Harry dead, and now Harry was identifying his body in a cold and uncaring morgue.

Vernon Dursley lost.

And Harry won.

“That’s them,” Harry said flatly. He stepped away from the table and curled his lip up at the couple. “Vernon and Petunia Dursley.”

“You did great,” Amelia said. “Come on Harry, let’s go.”

Harry had a sudden realization and turned to look at her. “Can I have a moment? In private?”

“Sure,” Amelia’s eyes were soft as she smiled at him. “Come out when you’re ready.”

Harry nodded and waited until she closed the door behind her.

Knock, knock, Timmy, he called irritatingly through their connection. Guess what?

Harry stepped up to the bodies and smiled victoriously down at them.

You’re the stupidest fuckin person I’ve ever known. You couldn’t kill a baby and you didn’t hurt me now, as much as you must have wanted to. Fuck you, noseless dick.

Harry closed the connection firmly as he felt Timmy’s extreme shock reverberating through it.

“I hated you, my whole life,” Harry said to the Dursley’s corpses. “There was a time when all I wanted was for you to love me, treat me like family, but this is what I’ve wanted instead for a long time now. So, ta.”

Harry turned on his heel and strutted from the room, his head held high and his chest light.

He won.



By the time Susan and Harry returned to Hogwarts, they had to go straight to dinner.

Instead of sending them back once Harry’s identification was made, Amelia took them for ice cream. Then they walked over to Fred’s shop and surprised him. Harry quietly filled him in on the events of the day, and Fred took an early break to wander Diagon Alley with them for a bit.

“People are going to think I’m cheating on you,” Fred laughed as the four of them walked around, referring to the Polyjuice that Amelia gave Harry to drink so he wouldn’t be mobbed in public.

“That’s what you get when you date one of the most well-known wizards in our community,” Amelia said airily.

They browsed the Quidditch Supply Store, the Owlery (and Harry made a mental note to buy Susan an owl for her next birthday as she lovingly stroked a pretty white one), and Amelia even took them to a few ‘junk shops’ in Knockturn Alley where Harry quickly purchased a scarf that strangled anyone except for the owner. After lunch, that Amelia insisted on treating them to (‘It’s a holiday, of sorts,’ she said when Harry argued. ‘Just shut up and let me buy you food.’), Fred went back to work and Harry and Susan went to the Ministry with Amelia for a while.

By the time Harry and Susan returned to the castle, Harry was certain that this Halloween beat Halloween from his fourth year by a long shot.

“Party tonight?” Susan grinned as they walked together to the feast.

Harry hummed. “Maybe just poker with the gang?”

“Brill,” Susan grinned. “Can I invite Daphne? Ron won’t win if he’s distracted.”

“Perfect.”

And that’s what they did.

Harry got temporarily waylaid by Snape after the feast for a minute though. He held him back and rolled his eyes as Harry’s friends all trooped towards the dungeons together.

”Must you flaunt your disdain for rules?” Snape sighed.

”We weren’t flaunting, we were just...” Harry paused for a moment then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess we must.”

Snape scoffed, but his eyes were tight as he stared at Harry. “How are you?”

”Fine.”

”It would be understandable if you were not.”

Harry gave Snape an incredulous look. “They hated me, and I hated them,” he said. “Why would I be upset that they’re dead now?”

”I do not expect you to be sad,” Snape said, “I do know you, brat. However, I am certain that seeing their faces may have brought up unpleasant memories of your time with them.”

Oh. Well. Yeah.

Harry had been rehashing all the times he’d tried to make them like him, all the times they proved how much they hated him, and just all sorts of things about the Dursley’s during the feast, hadn’t he?

”Suppose so,” Harry said. His eyes flicked towards where his friends went and he desperately wished he were there instead of standing here talking about feelings with Snape.

Snape must have picked up on it, because he pulled an orange vial of Harry’s specifically tweaked Dreamless Sleep from his pocket and gave it to him.

”Just in case,” Snape said. “Go. Go make a great deal of noise and messes with your ever growing band of misfits. I will be in my quarters tonight, if you need anything.”

Which was a Snape-ism for: if you start freaking out, come find me.

Harry grinned and gave Snape a sloppy salute before he ran off to do just that.

As he jogged towards the Slytherin common rooms, he decided that he’d rather have Snape now than have had Amelia since he was a baby.

Even if Amelia was loads of fun to be around sometimes, Snape was a better parent than Amelia was aunt, he was sure.

Harry, Susan, Hermione, Theo, Blaise, Draco, Luna, Ron, Neville, Trent, Sapphire, and Daphne played cards until nearly two in the morning. Mavis brought cakes and crisps and drinks for them. They talked, and laughed, and made a great deal of noise that they surely would have gotten yelled at for if it wasn’t Halloween and Harry didn’t have most of Slytherin too afraid to complain about his activities.

And when Sapphire and Daphne left, Harry and the others rearranged the room to have a sleepover and Susan curled up in Harry’s bed with him.

“Are you glad they’re dead?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. He stared up at the ceiling and thought about it. “Doesn’t make much sense though, does it?”

“Why Timmy would kill them when everyone knows they didn’t like you?”

“Exactly.”

Susan huffed and tangled her left leg up with Harry’s right leg. “It doesn’t make any sense at all,” she said.

“I keep trying to figure it out, either he thought it would hurt me somehow, or... or he didn’t?” Harry said quietly. “But... but why?”

“I don’t know,” Susan admitted. “Either he’s an idiot or he’s playing a game that we don’t know the rules to.”

Harry laid there for a long time, considering.

“I don’t think he’s an idiot, Sue.”

“Me either.”

And that made it worse.

Because if Timmy started playing a game Harry didn’t know the rules to, then the odds of him losing were pretty damn high.

Harry ignored Timmy’s efforts to break in his mind and grabbed the dreamless sleep from Snape and shut out the entire confusing day.

Chapter End Notes

Up Next: The first Hogsmeade weekend of the year