Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Chapter 6: Searching for Unicorns

Harry congratulates the Hufflepuff Captain, Elena Dagwood, for the surprise win against Slytherin.  The Hufflepuffs’ chatter brightly as they make their way back into the Players’ Hall.  He has no doubt that the party in the Hufflepuff common room will be loud that night.

The Slytherins had played the better game, but the Hufflepuff Seeker had caught the snitch before the score had become too high.

The Slytherins look unsurprisingly mutinous as they make to file past Harry back into the Players’ Hall.  He whistles to bring them to a halt and has them form up.

Geraldine has a comforting arm thrown around their Seeker, a Second Year called Marcus Ogden, a distant cousin of Tiberius Ogden, one of Charlus’ political bloc.

Simon Flint, the Slytherin Captain, glowers at Harry.  “Sir.”

“You all played a good game,” Harry praises the team, sweeping his gaze over the despondent group.  “You flew well, your runs at goal were tight and well-executed, and your bludgers were well-timed and disruptive to the Hufflepuff’s play.”

A few of the students straighten with his words, the praise soothing the hurt of defeat.

“Flint,” Harry says, prompting the Captain to look at him.  “Your strategy to focus on getting a high goal score was the right one with an inexperienced and young Seeker playing against a more experienced and older Seeker.  I would have played the same.  One point to Slytherin.”

Flint breathes in deeply, his sixteen years old face going a ruddy red colour.

Harry dropped his gaze to the devastated Ogden.  “You assisted the Chasers in every goal today, that was well done and you also get a point to Slytherin.”

Ogden brightens. 

“When you’ve got more experience under your belt, you’ll know how to assist and how to keep watch so you can quickly react if the other Seeker goes after the snitch,” Harry notes.

One of the other Chasers, Warren, reaches out to pat Ogden’s shoulder.

“However,” Harry says, “today it wouldn’t have made any difference because the snitch decided to be contrary and popped up right next to the Hufflepuff Seeker.”

All of them groan at his blunt words.

“That’s the nature of the game,” Harry consoles them.  “Sometimes the better team doesn’t win.”

The mulish looks are mostly gone. 

Harry nods and waves them into the Hall.  “Off you go and clean up.  Have a think about what you might improve next game when you play this strategy.”

They really should have had one of the experienced Beaters tracking the Hufflepuff Seeker and disrupting them if needed.

Harry follows the Slytherins inside and heads to his own small changing room.  Usually he’d head to his quarters, but he rarely gets time alone and the last few weeks since he and Hermione have shared the detail of what had happened on their own world with their families have been hectic enough that he appreciates the opportunity.  He has no doubt that given how the entire family had come out for the game, since its landed on a Sunday which is when they usually visit, that his quarters will be overrunning with people.

Harry strips and heads into the shower, enjoying the rush of hot water over him for a long moment.  He lets it chase away the chill of flying in the February Scottish weather.  His mind drifts.

The unicorns have disappeared, retreating deep into the depths of the forest.  Hagrid had been inconsolable the day it had happened.  The Aurors are still patrolling the herd’s previous stomping ground which is upsetting the centaurs.

Harry thinks the unicorns are smart.  The deeper forest is not for the faint-hearted or unwary.  The attackers won’t find the rest of the herd as easy to prey upon.

The Aurors’ investigation has stymied. 

Harry sharing the information about Riddle hasn’t made a difference to events yet, he muses as he reaches for soap.  He’s a little disappointed in truth.  It had turned out that Charlus and Arcturus had already approached Head Auror Moody with their suspicions about Riddle.  When James had originally shared about the attack with his father and Arcturus, they’d both recognised that the number ‘seven’ was favoured by Riddle who they’d attended Hogwarts with. 

But Riddle is nowhere to be found. 

Harry believes that Riddle is hiding behind his followers as he always did.  But both Charlus and Arcturus have been wary about assuming that those followers will be the same as Harry’s world, even if they acknowledge that the same agenda and power which drew people to Voldemort will likely attract those who Harry has identified.

And truthfully, Harry cannot say what Riddle is intending. 

Hermione had called it right when she had noted that when Voldemort had attacked the unicorns, he’d done it to drink their blood and increase Quirrell’s chances of maintaining the possession.

Voldemort had been nothing more than a wraith without Quirrell.  There’s nothing to suggest a similar disembodiment has happened already to Riddle.

Sirius, Lily and Hermione have set about finding every piece of magic that might involve a unicorn foal to see if that could give them clues as to what Riddle was intending.  Each spell and ritual they find is more horrifying than the next.

Harry shudders.

He washes off and steps out of the shower, drying himself off with clean fluffy towels.  He dresses quickly, knowing that if he doesn’t make his way to his quarters shortly, someone will be sent to find him.

He still checks on the student changing rooms before he heads out and finds them deserted except for a house elf who is happily cleaning up the mess left behind by unthinking teenagers.  He jogs back upstairs and heads home through his office.

His family are all gathered in the main common room.

He smiles at the sight of them.  He remembers the first meeting they’d had with the Potters sat together, and the Blacks sat together, with Lily missing altogether.  They’d been firmly two groups.  The scene he walks into is the opposite of that, although the generational difference is making itself known.

Charlus, Dorea, Arcturus and Minerva are in the main sitting area.  They’re in the midst of a discussion, Arcturus gesturing with the glass of wine he’s holding. 

The younger generation are at the dining table with Lily, Regina and Hermione one side, and James and Sirius, on the other.  There are stacks of books in the centre of the table with each of them reading. A long roll of parchment is laid out in front of Hermione.  There is a distressing number of scribbles on it.

He diverts to greet his grandmother and grandfather; to shake Arcturus’ hand and to exchange a quip with a smug Minerva who knows the Slytherin’s have lost ground in the Quidditch cup.

Finally, he slides into the empty seat next to James, opposite Regina.  “How’s it going?”

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m depressed,” James quips.  He points at the bookstack.  “You know who should be here for this?  Remus.”

“Is he still abroad with the werewolf packs?” asks Sirius.  “I thought he would have returned by now.”

“Bertie thinks he’s romancing someone,” James waggles his eyebrows.

“Really?” Harry says.  “Anyone we know?”

“Some French werewolfie,” James says, pushing his book to one side and wandlessly summoning the next to him.  “He keeps writing about how wonderful Adelaide has been to him.”

“Good for him,” Sirius says mildly.

“Pete’s more sceptical,” James muses.  “He thinks Remus is still upset about my being angry with him rather than being embroiled in some torrid love affair, but then Janice broke Pete’s heart last week so he’s completely down on any idea of love and romance.”

“Janice Travers?” Sirius frowns.  “I didn’t think he would be her type.”

“He’s not,” James replies, “hence the broken heart.  I think she took pity on him when she agreed to a date because Bertie’s dating her friend, Elaine.”

“Bertie’s dating Elaine Kirkby?” Lily whistles.  “He’s brave.”

“He is?” asks Harry, bemused.

“Four older very protective brothers,” Sirius says.  “We were at school with Liam.  He’s an Auror, isn’t he?”

“He is,” James says, grinning.  “He keeps glaring at Bertie in meetings.  I think Moody’s about to snap about it.”

Harry and Hermione exchange an amused look.  Harry wonders if people thought he was brave for dating Ginny with her six older brothers.  Probably, Harry thinks, although surprisingly none of her brothers had really ever given him a hard time about dating her.

James sounds cheerful enough about his friends, but the family magic gives away that James is missing Remus.  Harry gets the sense that Remus is his closest friend out of the Mischief Makers.  Which, he muses, makes the bump in their friendship caused by Remus finally admitting that Sirius had not attacked him in their schooldays all the more unfortunate.

Hermione sets the book she’s reading down and scribbles something on the parchment.  “I can’t believe how many banned potions use unicorn ingredients.”

“Unfortunately, I can,” Lily says.  “Severus gave me four books yesterday, all with potions using unicorn parts.”  She shudders delicately.

“Not so surprising when you consider the tamed herds were created to supply ingredients,” Sirius says, “willingly given, of course.”

“You can still use willingly given unicorn parts today legally,” Regina notes, tossing her black hair.  “There’s a French perfume company who have a unicorn hair in every bottle.”

“Remind me never to buy it,” Lily mutters.

“I wouldn’t buy it anyway,” Regina grins.  “Even with the unicorn hair, it still smells awful!”

“Honestly, I think this is turning into a search for a needle in a haystack,” Hermione sighs.  She tucks a strand of caramel hair that has escaped her bun back behind her ear.

“Let me take a look at what we have so far,” Harry suggests. 

Hermione passes over the parchment.

Harry starts to scan it, vaguely aware of Hermione requesting drinks for the table from one of the house elves.

Potion, potion, potion, Harry muses.  He can guess why Hermione had focused on potions.  Riddle had been great at Potions and there were unsubstantiated rumours that he had done his Mastery abroad in Potions.

He picks up the light ale that pops in beside him and takes a large swallow.  His eyes alight on a ritual and he almost chokes.  He clears his throat and takes another fortifying sip of ale as he reads through the ritual notes once again.

The certainty that this is what Riddle wants settles into his bones.  He’d spent too long connected to the monster not to understand him.

“I think I have it,” Harry says interrupting the murmur around him.

They all stop to focus on him.

All of them.

The older members of the family turn to look at him.

He swallows hard.  “I think I know why Riddle wants the unicorns.”

He ignores the concerned glances they all exchange – he’s certain that he’s not fully shielding his horror in their family magic.  Charlus and Arcturus rise quickly and make their way to the table, Dorea and Minerva just a step behind them.

Sirius and James rise from the table to give their chairs to the older ladies.

Harry takes a deep breath.  “Here,” he points at the relevant ritual on the parchment before he hands it off to Charlus, “the Aeterna ritual.  If performed under the light of a full moon it is said to convey immortality on the recipient of the ritual.”  He shifts to face James who hovers standing at the end of the table.  “You said one of the unicorns in the Cornwall herd was slaughtered?”

“Yes,” James says.  “One of the younger stallions was cut to ribbons with a slashing spell.”

“He needed the blood of a unicorn for the ritual,” Harry says.  “It was the first element needed for the ritual.  A unicorn stallion foal is also needed, but he also needs the foal’s mare.  They’re both to be sacrificed in the ritual, painted with the blood of the first one he killed, and he’ll drink their blood.”

“One thing I don’t understand is why he didn’t just go back there?” asks Lily.

“Security was tightened on the Cornwall herd,” James notes, looking sickened.  “They are part of an official Ministry preserve.  The security wards were updated to prevent apparition inside any of the animal enclosures.  More security measures were placed around the herd, and only official preserve employees were given permission to be anywhere close to the unicorn herd.”

“The herd in Hoggle Forest the only one which remains outside the protection of a preserve,” Minerva adds.  “The centaurs are bound to provide protection to them as part of their original agreement with Hogwarts to live within the forest.  It’s always been believed that the centaurs and the proximity to Hogwarts was enough to deter any attackers.”

“James,” Charlus says quietly, “you experienced the first attack on the Hoggle herd.  Were they aiming to abduct two of the herd or were they attempting to slaughter one like they had done at Cornwall?”

James is silent as he considers his father’s question.  He finally sighs and runs a hand through his mess of hair.  “They were seeking to corral them in hindsight.  Their spells were meant to cause distraction and disruption.  They sent the herd running in different directions.”

“And only the foal was taken in the second attack,” Dorea muses.  “Which means that the herd fleeing further into the forest is the right protection.  He needs the mother of the foal.”

“They may have been able to mark her in some way,” Harry says.

Hermione nods.  “Or he could use the foal’s blood to identify her if he gets close enough.  He wouldn’t have to kill it, just extract enough for the Finder spell.”

“Why this ritual and none of the others?” asks Sirius quietly.

Harry gathers his thoughts for a moment and takes a sip of ale.  He sighs.  “My Riddle was completely obsessed with immortality.  It’s why he created horcruxes, soul containers with a remnant of his soul inside of them which worked to keep his spirit tethered to the Earth even when he was disembodied.  We’re not certain he has made horcruxes here.  If he hasn’t made any, he’ll be searching for a different way to cheat death.”

“Some of the ones we know about were not made yet time wise,” Hermione adds.  “In fact, there are only three possible horcruxes if he had made them if things had followed the same path as our world: his family ring, his old school diary, and Hufflepuff’s cup.”

“Four,” Harry corrects gently, “he got the locket from Smith too.”

“Right,” Hermione says.

“Hufflepuff’s cup is the treasured heirloom of the Smith family,” Dorea says.  “Jeremiah Smith inherited it from his great-aunt; he shows it off every time the Smiths have a party.”  Her voice held the exasperation of having been shown it multiple times.

“Slytherin’s locket has been missing for years,” Sirius says.  “The Gaunt family had it last, but it wasn’t listed in the items confiscated when the last member was imprisoned for murdering the rest of them.”

“Riddle’s mother was Merope Gaunt,” Hermione tells him.  “She had the locket and pawned it for money when she was cast out for being pregnant with a muggle’s child.”

“We should track the last known whereabouts of Merope Gaunt,” Arcturus says. 

“Riddle grew up in the London orphanage, just off Diagon Alley,” Charlus says.  “He always claimed a blood relation to Slytherin and Peverell.”         

“The Gaunts descend from Cadmus, the second brother,” Sirius says before Hermione can tell the gathering.   “The Potters descend from Ignotus.  The relationship is probably far enough removed that Riddle doesn’t show up in your family magic.”

“Which is a blessing,” Harry says fervently.  He’s slowly getting used to feeling his family through his magic.  He shivers at the idea of having Riddle entwined in it all.

Hermione huffs a little.  “Our Riddle hid the Gaunt family ring under their old shack.  It was cursed.  Professor Dumbledore was the one to retrieve it in our world and the curse ended up killing him.”

“Well, at least we know the ring won’t have the Resurrection Stone here,” Harry says, looking across at her.

“The Resurrection Stone?” James frowns at him.  “Are you talking about the myth of the Deathly Hallows?”

“They’re not a myth,” Harry says.

“What are they?” asks Lily.  She sits back with her arms folded.  “I’ve never heard of them before.”

“It’s a tale about our ancestors, a children’s story,” James replies, nudging his glasses up his nose.  “There were three Peverell brothers, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus.  The tale goes that they were hunting a dark wizard and came to a wild river that they had to cross.  They built a bridge and crossed safely, and on the other side, Death appeared to them.”

“Death?” questions Lily sceptically.

“Children’s story,” emphasises James, “anyway.  Death congratulated them for escaping his trap and granted them each a boon. Antioch wished for a wand that will always cast true so Death pulled off a branch of the nearby elder tree and fashioned it into a wand.  Cadmas wished for a way to see his just dead sweetheart, so Death took a river stone and made it a portal to the dead.”

“And Ignotus, our ancestor, requested an invisibility cloak so Death took his own cloak from his back and gave it to him,” Charlus continues.  “Antioch was arrogant, boasted of the wand and was killed for it, a thief stealing it away.  Cadmus brought back his sweetheart and wasted away talking only to the spectre of her.  Only Ignotus escaped Death by hiding under the cloak, but when he was a man grown old with a gaggle of grown children and grandchildren, he took off the cloak and welcomed Death.”

“There’s a historical account of the three Peverells eliminating a dark wizard with powerful magical items,” Sirius says.  “They disappeared afterwards and Ignotus, the surviving brother from that fight, would never say what happened to them.”

“A legend came about that if someone could find the Hallows, they’d become the Master of Death,” Charlus finishes.

“I think it would be sensible for us to find the objects we think Riddle turned into his horcruxes,” Harry says, pulling them back to that topic.  He squirms a little in his seat because he knows exactly where the Hallows are, and he’s not prepared to give away that secret, not even to his family, yet.

Hermione shoots him a knowing look at his deflection.  “Harry’s right, we should find them, but he and I think that it’s unlikely that he has created horcruxes here.”

“Why?” asks Minerva bluntly.

“Because I checked with Horace about a week ago,” Harry admits.  “I told him how our Professor Slughorn had given unwittingly given a dark wizard, when the wizard was student, the knowledge of how to make horcruxes never believing he would.  Horace swore on his magic that he had never had a discussion with any student about horcruxes.”

“Frankly, it doesn’t matter if he has or he hasn’t,” James says.  “I think Harry’s very likely right about the ritual.  Something feels right about it.”

“Agreed,” Regina and Sirius say together. 

There’s an echo in the family magic.

Seers, Harry thinks trying hard not to be creeped out by it.

“If it was a different ritual, we’d likely have had the foal’s body dumped somewhere by now,” James adds.

“We need to find the unicorns,” Hermione says firmly.  “We need to find the mother and protect her as much as we can.”

“And we need to rescue the foal,” Harry says.

“How do you propose we find the herd?” asks James, his eyes wide behind his glasses.  “I’ve been in that forest patrolling with the other Aurors.  It’s impenetrable beyond a certain point unless you’re an animal.”

They’re all quiet as they consider his questions.

“The Hidden Lands,” Regina says breaking the resulting silence.  “The Temple of Avalon is said to be somewhere in the forest.  Vivien is said to have closed the borders to all but her kin and true magical creatures.  It’s possible that they’ve retreated there.”

“To paraphrase our cousin, Reggie, how do you propose we find it?” Sirius asks.  “We have nothing but myths to follow.”

“Let’s break for some dinner and conversation which focuses on other topics,” Dorea suggests.  “It might well be that once we’ve had a meal and some rest tonight that we’ll come up with clearer solutions.” 

“A sensible suggestion,” Minerva agrees.

Harry’s lips twitch with amusement but he complies as Dorea harries them all into clearing the table of books to make way for food.

It’s not too late when they retire.

Hermione sits at her dresser brushing her hair.  She’s taken to wearing the top of his pyjamas while he wears the bottoms.  It stirs Harry’s blood to look at her in his clothes.  Yet, he pauses as he takes her in.

Her mind is elsewhere, a distant look in her eyes as she methodically pulls the brush through her loose hair.

Harry sits close by her on the bed and waits until she surfaces from her thoughts. 

She startles a little as her gaze meets his in the mirror.

“Are you thinking about the unicorns?” Harry asks gently.

Hermione heaves a sigh and puts her hairbrush down.  She turns to face him and shakes her head, reaching out with her hands.

He takes them in his. 

“Do you remember before we came to Hogwarts how Dorea asked me if I wanted to search my family out?” asks Hermione softly.

Harry nods.  “You said you were going to ask her to check on them to make sure they were well, but you didn’t want to know anything more.”

“Sirius apparently realised that he hadn’t heard anything about looking up my family, so he checked in with Charlus and Arcturus a couple of weekends ago,” Hermione sighs.  “Dorea asked me earlier when we were waiting for you after the match if I wanted to know what she found.”

Harry holds her hands, his thumbs rubbing soothingly over her knuckles.  Hermione’s relationship with her family is complicated.  Back on their world, the actions she’d taken to keep her parents safe during their horcrux hunt had seen them act coldly towards her when she’d restored their memory.  They hadn’t even sent a card or present for her birthday.  She had deserved a lot better, Harry thinks fiercely.

“William and Mary Granger are dentists in Surrey,” Hermione says with the air of repeating a report she had learned by rote.  “They are non-magical, although William’s mother is a squib.” 

Her lips twist and he remembers how she had told him about how her parents had fallen out with her paternal grandmother soon after she started at Hogwarts. 

“They have no children,” Hermione says and drops her gaze to their hands.  “I don’t exist here.”

Harry raises her hands and kisses the backs of them gently.  He holds onto them tightly as he meets her gaze.

Her beautiful eyes are filled with tears she won’t shed; she’s upset at her absence in this world.

“It explains why I haven’t felt another Hermione in my family magic,” Hermione says sadly.

Harry presses his lips together briefly.  “I don’t exist here either.  Maybe magic knows that we need each other as friends, because the honest truth is that I wouldn’t have survived to be twelve without you, so maybe magic is waiting for my parents to get their act together, or for you to come along so it knows I can be born with you as my friend.”

Hermione huffs. 

James and Lily are spending more time together and getting along very well even with Snape being around more.  Harry suspects James is trying to drum up the courage to ask Lily for a date.

He shakes his head.  “Or maybe Merlin’s magic wrought some side-effect that we don’t know about.  Maybe he made it so that we are here, and they are not.  Or maybe the laws of the universe determined that without an old wizard having a say.”

Hermione bites her lip.  “We should really check in on how the Ministry is going on deciphering the spell.  I meant to spend more time on it myself, but…” she sighs wearily, “who knew marking could take up so much time?”

Harry smiles.  He kisses her hands again.  “We can’t do everything.”

“I know, I just…” Hermione grimaces.  “We have this mission given to us by Arthur to protect this world against an unknown Evil.  We’ve barely scratched the surface on that!  We’ve barely even come to terms with what it means to be Knights of Avalon!” 

She pulls away and Harry lets her go as she stands up and starts pacing.

She gestures at him.  “We’re still getting used to family magic and knowing where our family is and how they’re feeling at any given time!  How they know about where we are and how we are!”

Harry pulls his own face at that because the family magic is weird.  For all he likes the idea of knowing if one of the people he loves is in trouble, he also doesn’t like that people know how he feels at given moment.  

“Then there’s the spell which brought us here and which will take us years to unravel so we can work out to get home!  We don’t have any time to work on it and why?  Because we have work!”  Hermione stops in front of him and throws up her hands.  “Why did we think taking jobs here was a good idea?”

“I seem to remember access to the library came into it,” Harry reminds her dryly. 

Hermione shoots him a look and drops to sit beside him on the bed.  She loops her hands around his arm and leans against him.  He rests his own head against the top of hers.

“Do you think we’re getting distracted with this whole business about the unicorns?” asks Hermione.  “Arthur told you Riddle wasn’t the Evil.  Maybe we should be leaving this to the Aurors.”

Harry kisses the top of her head.  “I think we’re right where we need to be.”  He tangles their fingers together.  “I think maybe I’ll go talk to Hagrid about the unicorns tomorrow.  He knows the forest better than anyone.  Maybe he’ll have an idea where to start.”

“Good idea,” Hermione murmurs.  She straightens suddenly and stares at him.

“What?” asks Harry.

“He wasn’t at the match!” Hermione proclaims.  “And he hasn’t been to dinner this past week.”

Harry starts to frown.  Her words tug at his memory for some reason.

“I saw him in the library this morning, Harry!” Hermione says and slaps a hand over her mouth as though she could take the words back. 

Harry gently pulls her hand away from her mouth.  “Hermione?”

“Do you remember,” Hermione says with only a touch of hysteria in her voice, “do you remember the time our Hagrid barely came into the castle and lurked around the library?  Do you, Harry?”

And the memory crystalises in Harry’s head so sharply he blinks in shock. 

“No,” he automatically denies the possibility, but…

“Yes,” Hermione says, a mad glint to her eye, “Hagrid has a bloody dragon’s egg!”

Chapter 7: The Centaurs

Hagrid had a dragon’s egg.

Or more accurately, he’d had a dragon’s egg until Harry and Hermione had gone down to his hut the day after the Quidditch match and faced him with the fact that he could not keep a dragon in a wooden building.  Luckily, the story of their own Hagrid giving up Norbert to the dragon sanctuary in Romania had inspired Hagrid to give up his own egg.

The contrast in how they’d handled it was startling to Harry.

On his own world, Ron had been bitten by the dragon before they’d managed to convince Hagrid.  Then, it had been him and Hermione carrying the very heavy crate (who knew baby dragons could be so heavy!) through Hogwarts to the top of the tower to get it away with the help of Charlie Weasley and his friends.  Merlin, the loss of points in the aftermath of being found out after curfew because they’d dropped the invisibility cloak had been shocking!   

This time, as soon as Harry and Hermione had validated that their theory was correct, Sirius had arranged everything with Arcturus and two Black house elves had safely seen the egg to Romania. 

In fairness, Harry muses, they had been children when they’d had to deal with their first dragon egg, and it hadn’t helped that Hagrid had actually hatched the egg and they’d had a dragon to deal with.  Their first experience had given them a lot of helpful ‘what not to do’ notes for dealing with their second.

Sirius had been very amused by their worry about the legalities of it all.  Apparently, having an egg, being in possession of one, was not illegal.  Buying or selling dragon eggs wasn’t illegal either except in Asia where the dragon industry was highly regulated.  In Europe, it was only illegal for individuals to be in possession of an actual dragon, but an organisation with the proper licensing was fine.

Harry had quizzed Hagrid about how he’d gotten the egg.  He vaguely remembered their Hagrid getting it in exchange for information about how to get past Fluffy.  There was no three-headed dog guarding a trapdoor this time, but there was a missing unicorn herd.

Hagrid had admitted that he’d exchanged the egg for information about the forest.  He was oblivious to the idea that to give information about the forest was to give information about the unicorn herd, but even Harry had to admit that the sage advice Hagrid had given to the person offering the egg had been fairly useless…      

“I told ‘em the best folk to speak to about the forest is the centaurs!”

Centaurs.

Which is why, Harry muses unhappily, there is a group of them up early on a Saturday morning, trudging through the forest to speak to the centaurs themselves.  At least they had managed to get the group down to a reasonable number. 

Harry had originally planned for just himself and Hermione.  That had died an immediate death because Sirius refused to hear about them going alone.  His argument that he felt he needed to go with them gave them enough pause not to argue about it.  They had read enough to know that if a Black Knight wanted to come along on a mission that they should not argue. 

James had insisted that he be part of the group as an Auror.  His presence gave them the cover of having an official Ministry guard – something that James had gotten signed off with Moody in secret.  

Talking Regina and Lily out of coming along had been more difficult, but they had acquiesced in the end when Hermione had pointed out that if their group got into difficulty, they would need somebody sensible to ride to the rescue.

Luckily, Charlus, Dorea and Arcturus had agreed that tromping through Hoggle Forest was the work of the younger generation.

Harry follows the path Hagrid has recommended.  It’s well-trodden and the cold winter weather has kept the ground firm and hard beneath their feet.  Harry is very grateful for his sturdy hiking boots.

Both he and Hermione have chosen jeans, jumpers and insulated parkas for the outing.  Harry carries a rucksack with supplies to supplement the emergency trunk which is always attached to a strip of leather around his neck.  Hermione has her satchel with her bottomless handbag contained within.  If they get into trouble, they’ll be prepared.

The scent of the wood reminds Harry a little too much of when he had flown through the forest with an injured Hermione after their abrupt entry into the world through a portal from their own.  Godric nudges his hand briefly offering comfort before he bounds ahead once more.  The grim is ecstatic to be off the leash and allowed to roam.

“At least someone is having fun,” comments Sirius dryly.

“You should try becoming an animagus and having a go yourself,” James suggests cheerfully.

“Who says I’m not an animagus?” Sirius retorts.

All of them shoot Sirius a curious look.

“I take it you’re not a grim like Padfoot,” Hermione says matter-of-factly.

Sirius shakes his head.  “I am an animagus and that’s all I’m saying.”

“I’m guessing you aren’t a housecat,” James remarks, “although I can see you as a black cat.”

Sirius simply smiles and doesn’t respond to the jest.

“I’m tempted to change into Prongs,” James says.  “I might be warmer that way.” 

Hermione hits him with a warming charm.  “I told you that your Auror robes were insufficient.”

“Moody was the one who insisted I wear them,” James points out, shoving his glasses up his nose.  His frame relaxes slightly as the warming charm does its job. 

“Even though you are ostensibly on a secret mission?” asks Sirius dryly.  He had dressed sensibly albeit in the wizarding version of Harry and Hermione’s rather more muggle clothing.  He had dragon skin trousers and a warm jumper under a heavy woollen outdoor robe that had a high neck. 

James grins at him.  “Moody is Moody.”

The path emerged into a large clearing. 

“This is the herd’s usual grazing ground,” James informs them as they come to a stop.

Harry looks around the clearing with interest, but it really just looks like any other part of the forest. 

“Is this where the attacks took place?” questions Hermione, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Exactly,” James says.  “Aurors are patrolling every few hours and the Ministry set up an alert ward for apparition around the clearing after the second attack.”

“Why not after the first one?” asks Sirius.

James shrugs.  “Beats me.  We all suggested the wards in our reports after it happened, but word came down that Crouch didn’t feel it was necessary since the attack was thwarted and he felt it was unlikely that the hooligans responsible would try again.” He sighs.  “He still thinks that this whole thing is nonsense.  It’s why the ward is for apparition only and not for people walking in.”  He gestures to their group.

“Director Crouch does like to think his is the only view that matters,” Sirius says.

“He’s a giant pain in the arse,” James says.  “He’s more interested in politics than in actual law enforcement.  He keeps trying to get Moody to retire and he ignored him to put his toady Scrimgeour in as Head Auror.”

“You’re not a fan of Scrimgeour?” asks Hermione accepting the water canteen from Harry and taking a large gulp.   

“He’s a good Auror,” James allows, “but he’s also a political animal.  He’s made no bones about his ambitions.”

“Does he want to be Minister, by any chance?” asks Hermione, amusement coating her words.

Harry grins at her.

James rolls his eyes.  “Sometimes your knowledge is a pain in the arse.”

“What’s Crouch’s relationship with his son like here?” asks Harry, wondering if the family magic will make a difference to how the father-son relationship evolved compared to the very dysfunctional relationship Bartemius Crouch had developed with his own son.

“Difficult,” James says, destroying that small hope.  “Crouch doesn’t listen to his family magic and he’s a hard demanding man.  Barty Junior is smart and he’s a good duellist, but he’d rather be working for the DOM than the Aurors.  He’s also not the type to settle with a woman, and his father has been trying to marry him off for years.”  

“He’s gay?” asks Hermione bluntly.

“He is,” Sirius says.  “Regina was in his class at Hogwarts.  Junior had a mad love affair with Warren Gibbons for most of their Seventh Year.  It ended when his father found out about it and threatened to prevent Junior from ever speaking again to his mother.”

James stares at Sirius.  “How do you know all that?”

“How’d do you think I know?” Sirius retorts.

“Regina,” they both say in unison.

“She and Junior were friends,” Sirius says.  “I think Director Crouch once approached our grandfather to arrange a marriage, but I’d already got Grandfather to agree that he wouldn’t arrange us, especially not Reggie.”

“Are arranged marriages still a thing?” Hermione asks with a frown.

James shakes his head.  “They’re very rare now and it’s usually only with the most traditional families who still attempt them.”

“Laurence Marchbanks was arranged with Colleen Bulstrode in our final year,” Sirius says.  “They married, had the heir Griselda really wanted out of the arrangement, and promptly split up all very amicably.  Bulstrode got independence from her family as a married woman under the auspice of another house, and Laurence is off sleeping around Europe with whatever bloke he fancies.”

Harry and Hermione exchange a similarly bewildered look. 

“Well, I suppose if it works for them,” Hermione murmurs.  “I take it being gay isn’t acceptable here?  It was just becoming more acceptable in our world.”

“Oh no, you can love who you like,” Sirius says, “you just have to do your duty to your family and its magic first.”

“People should just love who they like and that should be the end of it,” Harry says, wondering how they’d gotten onto the subject in the first place.

Sirius and James both blink at him.

“We’re off topic,” Harry continues, determined to get them back to the reason why they’d all trudged for a couple of hours through the forest, “when the first attack took place, what exactly happened?”

James blinks again.  “Uh,” he takes a breath and gathers himself.  He points to their right.  “Remus and Bertie hid behind those trees.  The unicorns usually tolerate my animagus form and Pete’s, he’s a black footed ferret, Bertie’s black bear not so much.”

“Nor Lupin’s wolf, I assume,” Sirius adds dryly.

James sighs but nods.

“Anyway, Remus and Bertie hid, I was just in front of them, and Pete was munching on nuts somewhere off to the right,” James says.  “The group of wizards apparated straight into the centre of the clearing.”  He pointed again at the spot.  “There were seven of them.  The herd scattered as they started to fire spells at them, trying to separate a foal and mother from the rest.” He runs his hand through his hair.  “I wish I’d realised that back then!”

“It may not have made a difference,” Harry points out.  “Even if you’d reported it, would you have been able to argue with Crouch for more wards or Auror patrols?”

“Probably not,” James concedes.

Harry pats him on the shoulder.  “So, they appeared, starting shooting…describe their appearance to us.”

“Black wizard robes with raised hoods, high necks, tight long sleeves, and they all wore a faceless white mask under their black hoods” James reports, “they were all the same, like a uniform.  You couldn’t actually tell if they were witches or wizards.”

“Sounds similar.  They were called Death Eaters by our Riddle,” Hermione says, her nose wrinkling in disgust.  “But then he called himself Voldemort, so it was all very pretentious.”

James grimaces.  “Before we could intervene, the centaurs arrived from the back of the forest.” He gestures towards the treeline.  “They started shooting and Remus got hit by a stray arrow so we grabbed him and left.”

Harry hums.  “Was the arrow stray?”

“What do you mean?” asks James, frowning.  “You’re not suggesting the centaurs deliberately targeted him?”

“I mean, would the centaurs know that you’re animagi rather than just creatures of the forest?” asks Harry.  “Do they have a way of determining that?”

“Or knowing it?” asks Hermione, backing him up.  “You used to roam in the forest every full moon with Remus, right?” She wagged a finger at him.  “Which was an entirely stupid thing to do.  Remus might have accepted you as pack, but if he had come across a threat or someone else, he could have attacked them.”

James flushes bright read.  He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish.  “My Dad said the same when he found out after we left Hogwarts.”

Harry raises his eyebrow at Hermione because he’s never realised that she felt that way.

Hermione shrugs.  “Remus almost ate us!  Padfoot legitimately saved our lives running him off.  I told him and Sirius off before you got to Grimmauld Place that Summer.”

He can believe that she did.

Sirius looks very amused at the idea of Hermione berating his counterpart.

“The centaurs might have known,” James allows.

“One more thing to ask them then,” Harry says.  He offers Hermione the water canteen again and after everyone has had the opportunity to drink some water, they move off.

The path leads them along the edge of the clearing.

Godric runs over with something in his mouth as they get to the far side, causing them to pause.

He drops his find into Harry’s palm.

Harry ignores the slight drool of saliva and frowns at the old silver pocket watch.  It looks battered and plain; there isn’t a telling crest or name etched into the outside, and while Harry doesn’t feel a compulsion to open it, he doesn’t think it’s sensible to do so either.  It doesn’t feel like a horcrux, but there is something magical about it.

“Any Aurors say they’re missing a pocket watch?” asks Harry, showing the others.

“No,” James says, peering at it.  “But it does look like a family heirloom.”

“Maybe one of the attackers dropped it,” Hermione suggests.

Sirius nods.  “They either haven’t realised it’s missing yet, or they have to know that the area is being watched now and figure they can come back for it later.”

“Well, we can see if we can trace it,” James says excitedly.  “It’s the first useful lead we’ve gotten!”  He pulls an evidence bag from his Auror’s robe and Harry drops the watch into it. 

Hermione points her wand at his hands and in the next instance he feels the sting of a disinfectant cleaning spell.

Harry shakes off the tingles and pats Godric’s head.  “Good boy.”

They move forward.

The centaurs’ territory borders the unicorns’ former clearing and it isn’t long before their advent down the path is stopped by a scout moving out of the trees and into the path.

The centaur is a younger male; blond haired and handsome.  He’s not someone Harry recognises.

“Greetings,” Harry says politely.  “We would like to speak to the centaurs about the recent attacks on the unicorn herd.”

The centaur bowed.  “Greetings to you both, Knights Peverell,” his gaze sweeps over Harry and Hermione, “I will escort you and your men to Magorian.”

“We’re just men now?” asks James in a side-whisper to Sirius.

“At least they called us men and not servants,” Sirius whispers back to him.

Harry swallows his chuckle and follows the centaur scout.  “May we know your name?”

“I am Kanan,” the centaur says.  “Grandson to Calum, the one who Sees.”

Harry breathes in deeply.  He knows the centaurs follow their Seers; it is part of their culture, a religion to them.  It had been the reason why Magorian had hated Firenze teaching at Hogwarts.  He glances over to Hermione.

She sends him a reassuring look and leans in.  “I was just thinking about Umbridge.”

Harry’s lips twitch.  Leading bigoted Delores Umbridge to the mercy of the centaurs had been one of Hermione’s most brilliant plans.  His smile fades recalling the rest of that night; of losing his godfather through the veil and Dumbledore finally telling him of the prophecy.

Hermione reaches out and he snags her hand in his, appreciating her wordless comfort.

“That’s so cute!” James coos behind them.

Harry rolls his eyes, but he smiles again.

They walk for what seems to be an unreasonably long time and Harry is certain that the scout has taken them on a few diversions to confuse them instead of taking a direct route.

They emerge from the forest at the edge of the centaurs’ village. 

Harry looks around, curious.

To his left and right are sturdy wooden cabins, raised up from the forest floor about a foot or so. They have wooden tiles on the roof with small stone chimneys.  There are tiny windows made of a misty glass.  As they pass the front of the building, he can see a small wooden ramp up to a wide porch and the front door.

He can also see that the buildings are set out in an arc.  He has a feeling that the positioning is something related to the stars.

He nudges his glasses up his nose as they continue to walk past building after building.  He counts thirteen before they emerge into what is likely the centre of the village.

There is a huge building to his right – a meeting hall, Harry muses, perhaps doubling as an official building.  There is also a wide stretch of grassland like a village green in old rural villages in England that Harry has seen on television shows.

Kanan leads them to the hall and Harry isn’t surprised when three centaurs emerge from the building to meet them just outside of it.

He recognises a younger version of Magorian stood to the left.  The dark-haired, chestnut-coloured centaur was the centaurs’ leader on his world.

In the centre is an older black centaur with a broad chest and powerful muscles.  His black hair is shaved close to his head, and his tail is braided and bound with a gold thread.

On the right is an old centaur.  His wispy hair is completely white and his pale skin is wrinkled.  He wears a simple brown tunic around his torse, tied with a leather belt and holds a staff in his left hand.

Kanan bows to the three.  “Elders, I have brought the Knights of Avalon and their companions to you as Seen.”

“You have done well, Kanan,” the oldest of them reply.  “Return to your post.”

Kanan bows again and walks away before Harry can thank him for guiding them to the village.

“I am Calum, the one who Sees,” he gestures to the others, “Magorian, the one who Hunts, and Josiah, the one who Leads.”

Harry bows and the others follow him.  He straightens.  “We are honoured to meet with you,” he says politely.  “I’m Harry Potter, Knight of Avalon.  This is Hermione, my wife, Knight of Avalon.  Sirius Black, Baron Blackthorn, and James Potter, Wizard Auror and heir to the Earldom of Gryffindor.”

Calum hums.  “Well met, Knights and wizards.” He points his staff at the hall.  “Come, we will talk inside.”

They were led into the hall. 

It was a large airy space with doors to the back.

Calum positions them in the centre of the hall and lowers himself to the floor with his legs folded underneath it.  Magorian and Josiah follow him.

Harry looks over at Hermione who nods, and they sink to the floor, sitting cross-legged.  Harry shrugs off his rucksack and places it on the floor beside him.  Sirius and James are only a beat behind them.

Calum nods, satisfaction gleaming from his milky blue eyes.  “The Emrys tore you from your world to protect ours, honoured Knights, but the reason you come here is not the Evil you seek.”

“It is still Evil,” Harry replies, taken aback at the centaur’s words.

“We are sworn to protect this world,” Hermoine says.  “Yes, we have our mission, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to ignore everything else.” She smiles.  “Besides, Harry has a whole hero thing; he’ll save everyone he can.”

“And you?” Magorian asks brusquely.  “What do you offer, female?”

James and Sirius bristle and Harry bites down on his own lip to stop himself from responding to Magorian’s baiting question.

Hermione looks over at the young centaur with a cool expression.  “I’ll stand by Harry and help him in whatever I can.”

“Truthfully, she’s the reason why we succeed more often than not,” Harry adds.

Magorian glowers, but he subsides at a hard look Josiah sends him.

“If you do have any information on the Evil we do seek, we won’t say no to that either,” Harry continues.  “Any help the centaurs can provide to us will be deeply appreciated.”

“You expect us to simply provide our information for free?” asks Josiah, stopping Magorian from speaking again with another hard stare.

Harry catches Josiah’s gaze.  “I’d like to think that the centaurs would help us protect the unicorns without demanding payment because Godric Gryffindor tasked them with that protection as part of the agreement for the centaurs to settle in the forest.  There is a foal missing.”

Josiah nods slowly.  “We are tasked with their protection, this is true.  That we failed to protect the little one, that is also true.”

“As it was Seen,” Calum intones.

“What can you tell us that will help bring the foal back safely and keep the rest of the unicorns safe?” asks Hermione bluntly. 

The three centaurs exchange a quick darting look and Calum takes the lead.

“The unicorns had retreated to the Temple of Avalon,” Calum says.  He picks up his staff and taps it on the ground. 

An image appears in the centre of the loose circle that that they’ve made.  The temple is a tall stone building not dissimilar to a church; it has a bell tower at one end.  The grassy plains around it are filled with unicorns.

“The way to the temple has been hidden for centuries, since Arthur was taken to Avalon to recover from his fatal wounds,” Calum continues.  “There is a hunting party of wizards in the woods, trying to find the path.”

“Why haven’t you brought them to the attention of the Aurors?” asks James.

Calum peers at him as though he’s a small child who has said something stupid.  “Name a wizard in charge who will take us at our word without proof, Viscount Potter?  Even the Busy Bee requires proof.”

James sighs.  “Please know that the Knights, and both Baron Blackthorn and I will take seriously anything you wish to raise in the future.”

Calum hums.  “The day is coming, Viscount Potter, when you will need to make a choice between your soul’s calling and the work you do.  Choose wisely.”  His eyes drift to Sirius.  “You should listen more to the Black Knight beneath your skin, Baron.  It will show you the way.  It has walked the path before.”

Harry feels a frisson of nerves.  Sirius’ status as the Black Knight is only known within their small Black-Potter family group.  That Calum knows is a little disconcerting.  

Sirius raises his eyebrows, but slowly nods.

“You will need a Priestess to grant passage through the shield that hides the temple,” Calum continues.

“My sister,” Sirius murmurs.

Calum nods.  “She has inherited Vivien’s legacy.”

Harry has a sense that they’re not going to get much more from the centaurs.  Since they’ve said that Sirius will know the path, it’s clear that they’re not going to provide a guide themselves.

“Did you see anything the night of the attacks that might help?” asks Harry pointedly.

Calum turns to Magorian.  “Do you have anything you wish to impart?”

“They were wizards,” Magorian all but snarls, “what more is there to say?!”

“Why did the centaurs target our animals the night of the first attack?” asks James bluntly.

Magorian frowns.  “We targeted wizards.”

“My friend Remus Lupin was hit with an arrow,” James says tersely.

“He is a wizard, is he not?” Magorian says.  “We care not for the wolf inside of him, and his recklessness in coming into the forest on the nights of the full moon angered some.  Perhaps someone took advantage of the situation to make a point.”

A literal point given it was an arrow, muses Harry, and if he guesses right, it wasn’t Magorian, but he knows who it was.

James looks as though he’s about to argue, but Harry puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“There is nothing else about the attacks you wish to tell us?” asks Harry again, holding Magorian’s angry gaze with his own.

“Nothing!” Magorian says. 

Josiah sighs and looks at Magorian with disappointment.  “You said one of them stank like decay.”

Magorian looks away and crosses his arms in a huff.

“Decay as in possession?” asks Hermione, her face creasing with confusion.  “That…that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Or perfect sense if something happened to him abroad,” Harry murmurs.  “We’ve assumed he’s the same as our world in the time of my parents, but perhaps he’s more like he was at the beginning of our war.”

“Dangerous rituals may have dangerous consequences,” Calum intones.  “The stars saw the blood of innocents spilled to try to correct a mistake made when tracking a lost treasure.  A woman scorned by one greedy wizard might leave a trap for another.”

“Right,” Hermione says faintly.

“There is nothing more to say on that which brought you here,” Calum says. 

“And of the Evil that we are here to defend against?” asks Harry.

Calum smiles.  “Visit me again when the planet has moved full circle from your arrival.  I will tell you all I See then.”

With that Calum lurches to his feet and walks away.  Magorian follows after him, his tail flicking furiously giving away his anger.

Josiah sighs.  He carefully stands as they do.  “Come, I will show you the path to Hogwarts.  It is time for you to leave the forest.”

They gather their things and fall into step with Josiah as he leads them in the opposite direction of the way they’d entered the village. 

He points at the wide pathway.  “If you stay on the path, this will lead you to the Lake and I am certain that you can make your way from there.”

“Thank you,” Harry says politely.

“Josiah,” James says, drawing the centaur’s attention just as he is about to turn away.  “How did the foal get separated?”

“There was a delay in our response,” Josiah says.  “By the time Magorian and the others got to the herd, the foal was already netted and caught.  We were only able to prevent the attempt to capture its mother.  The scout responsible for the mistake has been punished.”

“Are you certain it was a mistake?” asks Hermione directly.  “The wizard we believe is behind this knows how to charm and corrupt others into doing his will.”

Josiah frowns.  “I still believe it to be an error, but I will heed your words, honoured Knight.”  He bows and leaves before any of them can say anything else.

Like any conversation with a centaur, Harry thinks disgruntled as they leave the centaur village behind them, they’ve learned something – they just need to figure out what it is that they’ve truly learned.

Chapter 8: A Surprise Attack

Harry drowsily surfaces from sleep.  He reaches out to Hermione and his hand hits an empty space.  The surprise of her not being there startles him awake.  He sits up abruptly and confirms he’s alone in the bed. 

It’s unusual for Hermione to wake up in the middle of the night.  She has the occasional nightmare, but they have been far and few between.  She’s even shyly confessed that she has much less with Harry sleeping beside her.

He reaches for his glasses and pushes them on so he can see better in the dim light of their bedroom.  She’s not in the room and Crookshanks is missing too.  The kneazle usually sleeps at the end of their bed unless he’s commandeered Godric’s doggy bed.

Godric perks up from said doggy bed and gets to his feet.  He shakes out his shaggy coat and pads over to demand pets as Harry shifts to sit on the side of the bed. 

Harry pats Godric for a long moment, wondering where Hermione has gone.  He hopes she’s still in their suite.  They’d quickly realised that Harry’s old version of the Marauder’s Map, secreted away in his survival trunk, doesn’t work for this Hogwarts.  It doesn’t work on this world.  Hermione thinks she might be able to get it to work, but it’s not a priority with everything else they have on their plate.

Harry shrugs into a dressing robe and pushes his feet into comfy sheepskin slippers.  He heads out of the bedroom, through the bathroom and into the living space.

He breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of Hermione curled up on the sofa, Crookshanks on her lap.  Her hands are wrapped around a mug of what Harry thinks is probably warm milk with cinnamon.  Hermione still tends to eschew sweet things when she wants comfort; her dentist parents’ disapproval of her eating sugar has had a lasting effect.

She looks up from staring into the fire and almost starts as she realises that he’s in the room.  “Harry.”

“Hey, you weren’t in bed,” Harry says.

She sets her mug down and scootches over to make room for him, much to the dismay of Crookshanks who jumps down and settles himself in front of the fire. 

Harry slides an arm around her and drops a kiss on her cheek.  “What’s on your mind?”

“Everything and nothing,” Hermione sighs.  She snuggles into him.  “I keep thinking about home.”

Harry pulls her a little closer.  “Are you thinking about anything in particular?”

“Maybe,” Hermione bites her lip.  “Ron is going to hate us getting together.”

“I doubt many of the Weasleys back home are going to be over the moon about it,” Harry says, with a touch of despondency. 

He loves the Weasleys.  He’d drifted apart from them after his exile to the muggle world.  He knew Ginny would never react well to Harry marrying Hermione.  She had been the one to break it off, but he suspects that she intended for them to try again at some point.  And Ron…

Harry had stayed away from Hermione as a romantic prospect for years because of her on-off relationship with Ron.

“What prompted you to think about Ron?” asks Harry.

“You know how I stepped in for Minerva’s First Year and Second Year Transfiguration class today so she could attend that Transfiguration Conference in Paris?” Hermione says. 

Harry nods.  Sirius had taken the other two classes for Third and Sixth Year.  He knows Hermione is immensely honoured that Minerva asked her to be a stand-in.

“Charlie was in the class and…” Hermoine sighs.  “He looks like the spitting image of Ron when we were eleven.”  She shakes her head.  “I don’t know why it affected me so much just…” her voice trails away.

The fire pops and crackles in the silence.

“I know how you feel,” Harry admits in a low voice.  “When I met Bill and Charlie for the first time here, I couldn’t get away from them fast enough either.” He grimaces.  “And they are great kids.”

“They’ve signed up for your flying-for-fun practice sessions, haven’t they?” asks Hermione, amused.

“Yes,” Harry pokes her gently.  “You should come along.”

The two sessions he’d put on in the evenings to give the students time to practice outside of lessons had gone down very well. 

“Flying is not fun, Harry,” Hermione says firmly.

Harry grins at her.  “You could fly with me.  That would get the school talking!”

“Don’t joke!” Hermione smiles at him.  “If the Hufflepuffs coo any louder at us, they’re going to start attracting doves thinking it’s a mating call!”

Harry laughs and he’s gratified when she grins unashamedly back at him.

They shift, cuddling into each other more. 

“I’m sorry you were disturbed,” Hermione says after a while.  “We have a busy weekend coming up, you especially.”

They were chaperoning in Hogsmeade the next day, and there was a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw on Sunday.

Harry looks at her and sees her peeking up at him.  “I’d rather be awake and comforting you then stay asleep oblivious to you being upset.”

Hermione kisses him softly.

Their kiss turns into something deeper, and they shift, stretching out along the couch, Harry carefully holding her, as they touch and touch and…

Harry eases back gently from their kissing before they can get too heated.  “I want to go to Bournemouth at Easter break,” he blurts out.

Hermione’s eyes widen as she stares up at him.  She blinks for a long moment and starts smiling.  She stretches out underneath him and he stifles a groan. 

“You want to do our fake honeymoon?” asks Hermione, her voice bright with laughter.

“Yes,” Harry says firmly.  “I want us to be somewhere other than Hogwarts when we go any further.”

Hermione kisses him and nods.  “I agree.” She nudges his shoulder.  “In which case…”

“Back to sleep,” Harry sighs. 

There really is no graceful way for him to leave the sofa.  He stumbles off it in a lurch which makes Hermione giggle.

They go hand in hand back to bed and settle under the covers spooned up together.  It feels like there is a blink and Harry is asleep.

He wakes up with Hermione’s magical alarm loudly proclaiming that it is time to get up. 

They make it down to breakfast in the common room and find Lily already at the dining table with tea, toast and poached eggs, and a carafe of orange juice.

Lily closes the work folder she had open and sets it aside.  She picks up her knife and fork as the house elf pops in for their breakfast orders.

Hermione requests her usual porridge and Harry orders a full English.

His wife and pseudo-mother both give him a sharp look at the order.

“We’re chaperoning!” He proclaims.  “I need the energy!”

Hermione sniffs.  “I suppose you do have a full weekend, so a full breakfast is warranted.”

“Thank you,” Harry says dryly.

There is a noise at the top of the stairs and a moment later Sirius appears.  He joins them at the table sliding in beside Lily and opposite Hermione.

The house elf pops back with breakfasts for Harry and Hermione, and Sirius places his own order for a full breakfast, eyeing Harry’s plate hungrily.

“How’s your search for the path to the Temple going, Sirius?” asks Lily. 

Harry looks up from scooping up mushrooms and darts a look at Sirius.  The History Professor has spent every night in the Hogwarts library trying to find something in the old and dusty books about Hogwarts and Hoggle Forest that will prompt his memory.

“I think I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that I’m not going to find the answer in a book,” Sirius sighs.  “I’m going to head to Blackthorn, Regina’s going to meet me there and we’re going to do a Seeking.”

“I wish I could come along and observe that,” Lily says.

Hermione nods.  “I find Divination entirely woolly so it would be interesting to see a real Seeking performed by people with actual gifts.”

“Unfortunately, even if you both weren’t headed for chaperoning, I’d have to refuse,” Sirius says, not sounding the least bit sorry.  “The type of Seeking we’re doing requires all in the room to be gifted.”

Hermione huffs.  “Well, that rules me out.  I don’t have any kind of gift for Divination.”

“It was the one class she walked out on,” Harry recounts, recalling the moment with amusement.  “I wish I’d followed her.”

“I dropped it in the first week,” Lily confirms.

Sirius sighs dramatically, his grey eyes twinkling.  “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

“Even more so since you won’t let us watch,” Hermione comments wryly.

Whatever retort comes to Sirius is lost as the house elf delivers his breakfast.

Harry sips on his coffee appreciatively.  He sets it down.  “So, you’re hoping the Seeking will help you recall the path as the Black Knight.”

Sirius nods as he tackles his food.  “There is a magical bond through the inheritance of the position.  Hopefully I can tap into that.” He grimaces.  “We’ll probably going to head to Tintagel for the Seeking after Blackthorn.  Cador lived there as did his grandson.  The psychic resonance is stronger there.”

Harry chews on a piece of sausage thoughtfully and swallows it down with another gulp of coffee.  “Hopefully we can find the temple and protect the unicorns before anyone else finds them.”

“I have a feeling the centaurs will lead them in circles,” Sirius muses.   

Lily tidily places her cutlery on her plate and picks up her tea.  “Do you think a centaur could be helping them, Harry?”

“It’s a concern,” Harry says simply.  “Dark Lords are seductive in what they promise – power, a false freedom, status.  We warned Josiah and he’s aware they might be betrayed.”

Lily finishes her tea and stands up.  “Well, I’m going to finish getting ready.  Shall we walk down to Hogsmeade together? Sara asked if she could join us since she’s chaperoning too.”

Harry and Hermione both nod in lieu of speaking.  They know Lily and Sara sit together at most dinners.  The two single ladies have built something of a friendship.

Sirius waits until she’s out of earshot before speaking.  “I bet you any money that Lily and James will meet up in the village.”

“Nobody will take up that bet,” Hermione rejoins.  “They’ve been exchanging a lot of letters in between James’ visits, and he visits a lot.”

“I can’t imagine Snape’s happy about that,” Sirius comments, with a note of concern.

Harry shrugs.  “He’s been decent enough the last couple of times he’s come over to visit Lily.” 

But he can’t deny that he’s a little worried about Snape’s reaction himself.  He thinks Snape is mostly reconciled to the fact that he and Hermione are part of Lily’s life and inner circle; that she’s accepted Harry as family, and by extension the protection of the Black and Potter families.

He also can’t deny that Snape reconciling himself to Harry is a far cry from Snape reconciling himself to James, and further to James as Lily’s romantic interest.

He and Hermione share a concerned look.

“You know it’s creepy when you two do that,” Sirius says. 

Hermione rolls her eyes.  She drops her napkin down and stands up.  “I’m going to finish getting ready too.” She kisses Harry’s forehead and heads upstairs.

Harry mops up the last of his egg with his final piece of toast.  He’s glad of the hearty breakfast.

“Harry,” Sirius murmurs, “be careful in Hogsmeade.” He sighs.  “I can’t stop thinking I should just stay here today.”

“Consider me forewarned,” Harry says seriously.  It would be foolish to discount Sirius’ feelings.  “You need to go and do the Seeking.”

“And if something happens?” asks Sirius.

“Hermione and I have been protecting ourselves for a long time,” Harry points out.  “Maybe Riddle is going to try something today.  It wouldn’t surprise me.  He has to know it’s only a matter of time before we find the unicorns and make sure they are out of his reach.”

“Has Hermione made any progress into finding out if Riddle is disembodied?” asks Sirius.

Harry shakes his head.  “Nothing beyond starting to collate the rituals and spells that could have done it.”  He waves his cup at Sirius.  “As much as I hate to admit it, I miss having a spy in Riddle’s camp.”

Sirius grimaces.  “Well, until we identify who is in his camp here for certain, it’s going to be difficult to infiltrate it.”

“Talking of spying,” Harry says, “how goes it with Dumbledore?”

Sirius shakes his head.  “Badly.”  He pushes his own plate aside, finished with breakfast.  “I think he’s waiting to see if I’ll give up your secrets.”

Harry tilts his head as he considers that.  He’s not surprised that the Headmaster is more suspicious of Sirius.  Sirius is living with them, working with them, and helping them yet hasn’t yet given away anything to the Headmaster. 

Harry and Hermione themselves have hardly spoken to Dumbledore since they arrived back at Hogwarts, except about school matters.  Harry’s had more interaction with Horace than he has with Dumbledore. 

“We could agree with Charlus and Arcturus telling him something,” Harry suggests.  “Maybe our mission to protect the unicorns and targeting who is behind that.  Dumbledore knows I fought a dark wizard on my world, if we lead him to believe I was brought here to fight the same wizard it might be enough to satisfy his curiosity.”

“It would make sense, and he’s going to have to tackle Riddle himself if he wants to enact his political agenda,” Sirius says.  “Riddle is a rival in the same way Grindelwald was.”

Harry nods.  “Let’s discuss it tomorrow when everyone is here for dinner after the match.”

They both excuse themselves and head towards their separate suites to finish getting ready.  Harry’s somewhat amused to find Hermione has been distracted by a book and has to rush to finish her ablutions.

They opt to walk down to Hogsmeade and enjoy the crisp Scottish air.  The sun shines overhead in a pale blue sky, wisps of white clouds above them although there is a lower grey cloud in the distance threatening rain.

Harry is content to walk listening to Lily chatter with Sara and Hermione about an article Lily is writing for her Charms mastery.

They are barely beyond the gates when the patter of feet hurrying towards them from behind has Harry instinctively turning, Godric following his lead, a warning growl in the grim’s throat.

Kevin Locke holds his hands up in surrender.  “Apologies, I thought I might join your party walking down to the village as I’m also on chaperone duty today.  I haven’t had the chance to speak to many of my colleagues since starting my position.”  His eyes flickered to Lily before returning to Harry.

Harry swallows down the automatic refusal spurred by his desire not to have anyone but James interested in Lily.  It’s not his world, he reminds himself, and Lily can choose her own suitors.

He glances over at the ladies to see what they think of the addition to their party. 

“Of course,” Hermione says politely.  “We’re in much the same boat although we have the advantage of family at the castle.”

“You do have an advantage,” Sara says dryly.

“A great advantage indeed,” Locke says, sweeping his hair back.  He smiles at Lily.  “Did I hear you debating the position Shelly has taken on the long-term viability of a Happiness Charm?”

Lily nods.  “It’s my latest Mastery assignment…”

Harry tries to tune out the discussion, (Lily continues to include Hermione in the debate which eases Harry’s discomfort a touch,) and focuses on enjoying the walk.  He nods as a group of students hurry past, shouting a hello to him.

Sara falls into step on the other side of Godric and grins at him.  He’s reminded of Oliver’s smile.

“You notice they didn’t say hello to the rest of us?” Sara notes.  “You’re clearly their favourite teacher.”

“I don’t know about that,” Harry says.  “I think most of them just appreciate I rarely set essays.”

Sara smiles again.  “I know you said the other Professors were welcome at the flying practices, have you had any takers yet?”

“Minerva joined us last Thursday,” Harry says.  The Head of Gryffindor’s love of Quidditch and flying is somehow even more fervent on this world than his own.

“Ah, I see Professor McGonagall’s love of flying hasn’t diminished since I graduated,” Sara quips echoing his own thought.  “Well, I’d love to join the next practice.  I played as a Chaser when I was at Hogwarts, I kind of miss flying.”

“You’re more than welcome,” Harry says. 

They chat about the Quidditch league and the upcoming game between the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws for the rest of the walk.  At one point, Hermione shoots him an amused knowing look, and he’s reminded of how she used to do the same when he’d get lost in Quidditch talk with Ron. 

With how much Locke is trying to impress Lily, Harry is surprised when Locke declares he’ll do a first patrol around the village if they all want to take some time to shop and before any of them can say anything hurries away.

Sara frowns.  “That was weird, right?  I mean, I’m not the only one who thought that weird.”

“Definitely weird,” Hermione agrees.

Lily shrugs.  “I think Kevin’s assuming it’s a patrol like the Aurors do which it is not.  Why don’t Sara and I take the North side of the village and you two stay South?  We can meet up for lunch at The Three Broomsticks at noon.”  A blush appears on her cheeks.  “James mentioned he might be able to come along around that time.”

Harry doesn’t look at Hermione for fear of bursting into laughter.  He nods.  “Noon at the Broomsticks.”

They wait until Lily and Sara are out of sight before chuckling.

The rest of the morning passes without much drama.  There are a few student squabbles to put out.  A Third Year Hufflepuff manages to sprain their wrist falling off the pavement. 

Hermione gives her first aid and they consider sending her back to the castle using one of the emergency infirmary portkeys Dumbledore provides to the chaperone teachers.  Harry considers them a security liability, but he admits that in a peacetime environment it’s a useful way to get the student quickly to medical help.  In the end, Amy Bones successfully argues to stay in the village.

Lunch in the pub is busy, but James has charmed Rosmerta into saving them a booth.  Locke is nowhere in sight and while Harry is relieved, he does feel a little guilty at excluding the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. 

James smiles a welcome at Lily and gets up to seat both the single ladies while Harry seats Hermione.

It’s a wonderful lunch.  The fish pie is exactly what Harry is craving to combat the cold that’s seeped into his very bones after a morning in the last of the winter chill.

Sara excuses herself cheerfully to head over to a small boutique, Lily agreeing to meet her there to continue their patrol. 

Harry downs his butterbeer and checks the time.  They do need to get back to…

The ground shakes.

Harry puts his empty glass on the table, already sliding out of the booth.  “Giant?” he asks Hermione.

“Maybe,” Hermione says shrugging on her coat quickly.  “Let’s hope it’s not a dinosaur.” 

James lifts his wand and shoots sparkles to draw everyone else’s attention.  “Everyone!  Stay in the pub until we have this matter investigated!”  

“I’ll stay and ensure the students are safe,” Lily says as Harry turns to ask her to do just that.

“You keep her safe, Godric!” Harry pats the grim and hurries after James who is already at the door.

They hurry into the street.

The ground shakes again and…

Hermione turns to her left and grabs Harry’s arm.  “There!”

It’s a troll.

A large ugly troll.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Harry mutters.

Hermione frowns.  “Harry, the last time a troll was set loose…”

“It was used as a distraction…” Harry realises.  The forest.  Riddle and his followers are looking for the unicorns and the key to where they are… “They’re going after the centaurs.”

“Are you certain?!” asks James, staring wild-eyed at the two of them.

“We have to go help them,” Harry says.  There’s a gut-deep feeling that if they don’t help, the unicorns will be lost.

“I’ve got this!” Hermione says, determinedly, turning back to face the troll at the other end of the street.  “You two GO!”

James takes out a whistle and blows it sharply.  “Aurors should be on their way.” He looks at Harry.  “Do you…”

Harry takes hold of James’ arm and apparates them.

They appear without a sound in the centre of the centaur village, just outside the hall.

It’s chaos.

They arrive into the middle of open warfare.

To their left, a group of centaurs, which includes Josiah, is fighting off three wizards and a black centaur…to their right, another three wizards are holding off a group of centaurs led by Magorian, casting spells which the centaurs are blocking with swords.  In the distance, civilian centaurs are running for cover…a mother protects her young son, huddling over him by the side of the hall, scared to run through the fighting to safety…

“You help Josiah!” Harry shouts over the noise of the battle.  He doesn’t wait to see if James follows his order, already running.

He shoots a hard stunner at the first masked wizard in front of him, sliding across the icy hard ground to stand next to a young centaur warrior.  The stunned wizard disappears in a swirl indicating an emergency portkey.

Harry sets his jaw at the tactic which ensures there are no prisoners left to interrogate even as he throws up a shield to protect the centaurs from the spells the other two wizards still fire.  His magic surges under his skin, not chaotic but controlled…

Magorian immediately understands the value of the shield and orders his centaurs to fire arrows as he throws his staff in the direction of the wizard closest to him.

The staff causes the wizard to dart to his left and…

Harry fires a silent powerful disarming spell which smashed into the mask and removes it from the face of…

Rodolphus Lestrange…

Harry quickly fires another spell to stick him into the earth and…

An arrow finds Rodolphus’ wand hand slamming through it and sending him into the ground.  He’s alive, conscious and stuck…

There’s a crack of apparition and Sirius appears.

“Help James!” Harry shouts as he turns his attention to the remaining wizard in his own group who turns and flees towards the same path Josiah had shown them the previous weekend.  The centaurs are already moving to chase him though and…

Something catches Harry’s attention on the far side of the village.

A single wizard stood alone.

For a second they are both still and…

The wizard snaps out his wand and the Killing curse sails through the air…

Harry’s eyes widen as he calculates the trajectory and…

He barely conjures the slab of stone to halt the path of the spell, diving across the space between him and Lestrange…

The stone explodes with the strength of the curse, shattering into pieces and swamping Harry with dust.

He hits the ground hard.

He shakes off the impact, coughing and vanishing the debris around him…

Lestrange is gone.

Harry turns sharply back to the lone wizard and…they’re gone too.

Damn it!

Satisfaction thrums deeply within the family magic and Harry knows Hermione is safe and pleased – the threat of the troll in Hogsmeade presumably handled.

Harry focuses on his own fight.

He runs towards where Sirius and James are holding off two wizards, fighting side by side with the centaurs who are targeting the one centaur who had helped the wizards.

Harry is about to reach them when a blond centaur suddenly charges him from behind.  Harry glances back at the pounding hooves and only just manages to roll out away from the slashing sword in time to keep his head.

The blond centaur charges him down again.

Harry wonders if he’s possessed or controlled or if he’s found a second collaborator with Riddle…

He holds his free hand out and…the sword of Gryffindor smacks into it.

He parries the sword thrust of the centaur; once, twice and smacks away the sword to bring his wand to bear.

The sleeping spell is overcharged but it works.

The centaur drops to the ground.

Harry flicks his wand and the centaur’s sword flies away to the other side of the clearing.  He binds him in strong rope and…

“JAMES!” Sirius shouts…

Harry snaps around and…

There is a third rogue centaur charging his father with a sword and…

James is too focused on the fight with the wizard in front of him, spell fire crackling across the space between them…

Sirius blasts the wizard in front of him back towards the treeline to free himself to help James and the wizard disappears in a swirl of portkey magic…

Harry knows he’s going to be too late…

He sends a powerful blasting curse across the clearing towards the path of the charging centaur and…

It hits!

The centaur falters but lurches forward desperately…

James knocks his wizarding opponent to the ground and they portkey away.  James spins around, eyes wide as he registers the new threat, and…

The sword runs through him.

The centaur yanks the sword out and falls to the ground.  Harry snaps chains around him, his focus on James.

James’ hands rise up to cup his bloody wound and he crumples…

Sirius catches James before he hits the ground, but staggers and drops to his knees, his silver eyes wide with dismay.

Harry yells his father’s name.  He skids to a halt beside Sirius and James, dropping the sword in his hand to the ground.  His hand shakes as he reaches out to touch James’ arm. 

The family magic is roiling inside of him, James’ pain resonating through the bond, screaming a warning of imminent death…

“Is he…”

Sirius looks at Harry with urgent intent.  “You can save him!  You need to use the family magic!”

Harry presses his lips together briefly and nods.  “Tell me how!” he demands fiercely.

He won’t lose James. 

Not on this world.

Not again.

Chapter 9: Healing

Harry holds his hands steady over James’ bleeding wound and lets the family magic roll through him.

It spills out in a rush of gold to encompass James’ too still body.  James flinches deeply, a jerk of his body that almost dislodges Sirius’ hold on him.  His eyes roll up in his head as he finally loses consciousness.

But the wound begins to heal, and Harry pours his tangled feelings into keeping the magic working.  He pours in his love and care for this James, built over the brief weeks and months of their knowing each other, mixed with the filial love and desperate longing for his own father.

James’ wound heals rapidly in front of him, tissues and muscle knitting back together until finally new skin appears and the fresh jagged scar turns from bright red to silver.

Harry slumps back, drained and tired as the magic finally stops.

Sirius runs a diagnostic and nods.  “He’s sleeping.  He might sleep for a while.  That was a bad wound.” He looks over at Harry and frowns.  “How are you?”

“Exhausted,” Harry says honestly.  He glances around them and sees the centaurs have set-up a protective circle.

Josiah steps forward and bows.  “You have our gratitude for coming to our aid, Knight Peverell.”

“Thank you for your protection while I healed Viscount Potter,” Harry says, pulling on the last of his energy to stagger to his feet.

Sirius carefully lays James down on the ground and stands.  “His body is resting while it absorbs the healing magic you provided.  We need to get him to Hogwarts.  Ariana can check on him.”  He snaps out his wand and a milky Patronus of a panther appears.  “Go to Grandfather and tell him all is well and to bring Charlus and Dorea to Hogwarts.” He looks over at Harry.  “We all realised you and James were in danger, only those who know where the village is could apparate.  I think they went to Hermione instead.”

Harry takes a deep breath.  His shielding is tattered and he can sense an almost overwhelming amount of worry resonating from multiple family members; it threatens to overwhelm him.  He reaches out to Hermione and takes strength from her certainty that he is safe and she is safe.  He takes another deep breath and focuses on sending a wordless rush of reassurance back through the ethereal bonds and shakily rebuilds his shield.

Harry looks unenthusiastically at the path.  He’s not really up to walking all the way through the forest.  “Will the Hogsmeade emergency portkeys work from here?”

“Yes,” Sirius says.

“Before you leave, we should speak on this attack by wizards, Knight Peverell,” Josiah says.     

Harry and Sirius exchange a quick glance.

“I’ll take James and come back as soon as I’ve got him safely handed off to Ariana,” Sirius offers.

Harry nods.  He delves into his pocket and pulls out one of the portkeys, handing it off to Sirius.  He watches as Sirius stoops to hold onto James and with a muttered password, Sirius and James disappear.

“Here, Knight Peverell,” Calum appears beside him with a potion vial.

Harry takes it and looks at the standard labelling from the infirmary at Hogwarts; Pepper-Up potion.  He uncorks it and downs it.  The potion works immediately, flooding him with renewed energy.  He takes another breath to centre himself. 

His gaze sweeps around the village. 

The centaur children are being led from the hall where they must have sheltered by their relieved parents. 

A group of centaurs stands around the chained rogue who had almost killed James and a second group is over by the centaur Harry had sent to sleep.  There is a third group huddled around a downed centaur form – the centaur who had originally been fighting alongside the wizards.

All of the attacking wizards are gone, and Harry wonders if Magorian has managed to chase down the one who ran for the path out of the village.

“What happened?” asks Harry bluntly.

“You were correct to warn us of betrayal.  Hurron led the wizards to us,” Josiah says, pointing towards the third group.  “They demanded to know the path to the temple.”

“They attacked when we refused to answer,” Calum adds. “Hurron alongside them.”

“He has paid for his crime,” Josiah intones grimly.

Harry grimaces as he realises Hurron is dead.

“There was one wizard who remained apart from the others,” Calum says, “one with the stench of decay upon his soul and body.” 

Riddle, thinks Harry.  He tilts his head.  “Decay upon his soul and body?”

“His soul is a ruin,” repeats Calum, “and his body will soon perish because of the wounds inflicted upon him by the daughter of Rowenna, despite the mortal anchor he has created which helps him keep his flesh.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up.  “How do you know that?”

“I was able to See it when I laid eyes upon him,” Calum explains.  He shakes his head.  “The stars have been silent on this.” His blue eyes meet Harry’s.  “To destroy Riddle one must destroy the anchor in the living.”

Of course they do, Harry muses tiredly.  He rubs his forehead.  So, Riddle is still in his own body and has created a mortal anchor in something or someone living.  The most likely something is Nagini if she exists in this world.  Perhaps she won’t, Harry muses.

It had come out in the wake of the war that the snake had once been a witch whose chaotic magic had formed into something called an obscurial which had turned her permanently into her snake form.

The whole thing has always sounded fantastical to Harry’s mind, but the cure for chaos magic exists in this world where it didn’t in his.  He thinks it’s more likely that Nagini doesn’t exist in snake form here.  He wonders if she would have still become involved with Riddle as a human.

He sighs. 

Charlus and Arcturus might have a way to find her.

“We do not know if the others who attacked you and Viscount Potter are truly traitorous or under a compulsion,” Josiah says, pulling Harry’s attention back to the present.

“I’ll take a look at them,” Harry says. 

Sirius suddenly appears with a barely audible sound.

Everyone startles for a moment, panic rising again before swiftly draining away.  Harry presses a hand to his pounding heart.

Sirius clears his throat.  “Apologies.”

Josiah waves his hand.  “Knight Peverell was going to examine our remaining rogues for compulsions.”

Sirius nods.  “I’ll take the one who attacked James if you want to examine the one who charged you?”

Harry agrees.  He heads over, Calum pacing beside him, and a glance towards Sirius finds him being escorted by Josiah to the chained centaur.

Harry’s attacker is still out cold.  Harry runs a basic detection spell that Moody had once taught him.  A red mist forms above the centaur’s head.  It’s the result for an Imperious curse. 

“He’s being controlled,” Harry states for the benefit of the hovering centaurs around him.

Harry wakes up the centaur who snarls at him before he casts another spell to give the centaur’s own mind a chance to overcome it.

The centaur shakes his head from side to side almost violently before he lets out a deep shudder.  “What…what has happened?”

“Peace, Jason,” Calum says.  “A wizard cursed you and Knight Peverell has freed you.”

Harry removes the rope binding and Jason lurches to his feet.

Jason trembles with the effort of standing and another centaur hurries to his side to help steer him away.

There’s a commotion by the path and Harry readies himself for a moment for another fight before Magorian and a few of the returning centaur emerge in a clatter.

A brief look towards Sirius finds the chained centaur being led away at sword-point.

Harry and Calum head towards where Sirius stands with Josiah as Magorian rides up to report. 

“The coward disappeared from us on the path,” Magorian states angrily.  His eyes flash with fury at Harry.  “Hurron was corrupted by your kind!”

“Hurron was corrupted by a dark wizard, Magorian, as was Filipe,” Josiah says in a hard tone.  “Watch your words with Knight Peverell!”

Magorian is barely chastened.  “I will see to Filipe’s imprisonment ahead of his trial.” He barely nods to Josiah and stomps off.

“Forgive him,” Calum murmurs, “his father was killed by a wizard.  He has never forgotten it.”

Harry sighs.  “I understand his anger.”

Kanan rides up, bowing lowly to his elders and handing Calum a mask.  “We found this upon the ground near the Hall.”

Calum thanks him and Kanan rides away.  Calum examines the white mask briefly before offering it to Harry.

Harry gingerly takes it and Sirius conjures up a bag to place it in. 

“We should hand this off to the Aurors,” Sirius says.  “Hermione sent a message up to the castle.  She’s overseeing the students’ return from Hogsmeade.  The troll was dealt with?”

There’s a note of bewildered query in his voice that has Harry smiling.

“There was a troll,” Harry explains.  “Someone sent it into Hogsmeade as a distraction from the fight here.”

“But you knew to come here, Knight Peverell,” Calum says, his eyes bright.

“We’d seen that tactic before,” Harry says dismissively.  He casts another look around the village.  “I wish we’d been able to capture one of them.”  His brow lowers.  “At least I got a good look at one.”

Sirius nods.  “The problem is going to be keeping them from coming back without additional security.  The Aurors are going to want to investigate.  They were already in Hogsmeade.”

Josiah grimaces, folding his arms over his impressive chest.  “I do not want more wizards patrolling in our village.  It will only inflame tensions.”

“Your security depends on people not knowing where the village is, correct?” asks Harry.

Josiah nods.  “Only those we lead here will find the way.”  He sighs heavily.  “I was not aware apparition directly into the village was possible.  While I am grateful for your aid, I fear that it poses a problem for us.”

“We could ward the village against apparition,” Sirius suggests. 

“It will not deter those on foot,” Josiah points out.

“The Fidelius,” Harry says, the idea popping into his head.  “We cast the Fidelius.”

“Centaur magic won’t be able to hold the secret, it’s a wizarding spell,” Sirius counters, shaking his head.  “The arithmancy is all predicated on a wizard being the Secret Keeper.” 

“I’d be willing to do it,” Harry offers turning to Josiah.  “I hope you would trust that I would never tell anyone you do not wish to know the secret of the village.”

Josiah holds his gaze for a long moment.  “The Emrys chose you well, Harry Potter.”  He looks to Calum who nods.

“He has my vote, the One who Leads,” Calum says.

“Then we do not need Magorian’s vote or voice in this,” Josiah says.  “Knight Peverell will be our Secret Keeper as the Friend of the Centaurs.”

Harry sees Sirius’ surprise and realises the title has formal meaning.  He’ll have to ask later what exactly he’s signing up to as a Friend of the Centaurs.  He bows.  “You do me a great honour.”  He turns to Sirius.  “Are you up to casting the Fidelius?”

“I can do it,” Sirius says.  “Sit and rest a moment while I lay the ground runes.”  He turns to Josiah.  “With your permission?”

“You have it, Black Knight,” Josiah says.  He gestures towards the closest path.  “I will escort you so your task is not impeded.”

They walk away and Harry conjures a chair for himself.  He sits down, weary.  He’s feeling every muscle he used in the fight and from his channelling the family magic.

“I’ll bring you some refreshment, Knight Peverell,” Calum says.

“Harry,” Harry says, “please call me Harry.”

“Harry,” Calum smiles and walks away towards the Hall. 

Harry closes his eyes and uses the time to rebuild the shields around his magic, to corral the family magic as Charlus had taught him so that the bonds are manageable.  He checks on each loved one as he does, finding Hermione resolute and stubborn, and Lily worried.  Charlus and Dorea are a mix of relieved and anxious; they’re close by.  Likely at Hogwarts with James, Harry muses.

Arcturus is further away; determination and authority resonates through the magic.  Regina is tired and seems very distant.  Harry wonders whether Sirius had deserted her at Blackthorn when the danger to Harry pinged through the same magic that he’s using to check on her.

The clip-clop of hooves approaching has him opening his eyes.

The young mother who had been trapped outside of the Hall offers him a mug and Harry takes it, thanking her.  She blushes shyly and heads back.

The mug is filled with fresh milk laced with honey and red berries.  It’s the centaurs’ version of a milkshake or smoothie, Harry muses.  He drinks the whole thing with relish.

Sirius arrives back as he finishes the final gulp. 

Harry gets to his feet and banishes the chair.  He sends the mug back to the Hall with a wave of his wand.

“We’re ready,” Sirius says.  “I’ve cast it so that all within the circle will know the secret immediately otherwise there will be mass confusion.”  He turns to Josiah.  “Harry will need to give you a message to share with the scouts who are outside the village.  You should destroy the paper once they know of it.”

“It will be done,” Josiah says.

They face each other. 

Sirius casts his wand in a sharp movement up and to the right and…

“Fidelius!  The centaur village is located in Hoggle Forest by the Black Lake beyond Gryffindor’s circle!” Sirius intones. 

Magic falls over the village in a cascade of white.

Sirius’ silver eyes meet Harry’s.  They glow with power.

“Do you accept the vow of the Secret Keeper, Harry Potter, Lord Potter-Black, Earl of Peverell, Baron Ravenshold, Knight of Avalon?” Sirius asks.

“I do,” Harry says, holding up his own wand to his heart.  “I swear on my magic to keep this secret safe from those who would do the centaurs harm; to never tell a living being of the secret that the centaurs do not wish to know.  I do this as the Secret Keeper.”

“Fidelius!” Sirius sweeps his wand down and to the left. 

The magic sinks into the ground.

There is a snap deep in Harry’s magic and he knows it’s the secret settling in.  He takes a deep breath as he staggers under the weight of it.

Sirius is beside him in an instant.  “I think it’s time to get you to Hogwarts.  You need to rest.”

“I’ll write the message and then we’ll leave,” Harry promises. 

He’s soon provided with parchment and a quill.  He writes the secret quickly and hands it over to Josiah. 

“If you have need of me, please send for me,” Harry says.

Josiah nods and bows to Harry.  “Thank you for your service, Knight Peverell.”

Sirius holds out the portkey to the Hogwarts’ infirmary and Harry grasps it with a frown.  He really, really hates portkey magic.

The portal takes him in a swirl and he almost loses his balance on landing, but Sirius catches him before he can fully fall.  Sirius guides him to a bed and he isn’t surprised when he raises his swimming head that he finds Charlus and Dorea turning towards him from their seats at the next bed which a still unconscious James occupies.

“Harry!” Dorea pushes out of her chair and side-steps it to reach him.  She hugs him tightly before stepping back and cupping his face. “You are a miracle, Grandson.”

Harry flushes.  “I only did what you would have done if you’d been in my place.”

She kisses her cheek.  “I’m still thankful it was you by his side.”

“Sirius helped me,” Harry deflects.  “If he hadn’t guided me, I might not have been able to save James.”

Sirius waves away the praise.  “You’re the one who channelled the magic.”

“Dorea, release the boy so I can hug him!” Charlus orders cheerfully.

Dorea rolls her eyes, but she steps aside and immediately hugs a flustered Sirius.

Charlus draws Harry into a warm hug.  “Thank you for James and for returning safely to us.”  He moves back and darts a look at his son.  “Ariana says…”

“Ariana says it may be more than a day before he rouses,” Ariana bustles over. 

Harry’s a big fan of Dumbledore’s sister.  She’s a good healer and he concedes to her chasing the others away from the bed to examine him.

“You’ve got a good case of magical exhaustion, Harry,” Ariana says exasperated.  “Have a good meal tonight and rest your magic for the remainder of today.  You may want to consider having Sara substitute as referee tomorrow.  You’ll be tired.”

“It’s flying,” Harry immediately protests.  “It’ll be fine.” 

Ariana looks as though she’s about to argue, but the doors to the infirmary open and Hermione hurries in.

Harry slides off the bed and takes a step towards her, but Hermione is faster than he is.  She’s in his arms between one breath and another. 

“Thank Merlin!” Hermione says fervently.  “You’re alright!”  She kisses him deeply for a long moment.

Harry eases back to check that she’s fine and in one piece.  There’s a streak of dirt across her cheek that he rubs away as he cups her face.  “Troll all handled?”

“She knocked it out with its own club!”

The gleeful exclamation has Harry looking away from his wife and realising that she hadn’t been alone when she’d come in.

Bertie Croaker and Peter Pettigrew stand off to the side. 

Harry smiles at them.  He’d met them a couple of times while he and Hermione had been at Potter House, but their work at Hogwarts hasn’t presented them with too many opportunities to get to know James’ friends better.  In some ways, Harry is pleased that they haven’t had time.  He finds a decent Pettigrew difficult to assimilate with the traitorous snivelling Death Eater minion of his own memories.  Not to mention, Sirius is never entirely comfortable in the presence of the other Mischief Makers despite the apologies he’s received and Harry’s very much on Sirius’ side of that.

“Bertie and Peter responded to James’ summons,” Hermoine says simply. 

“You knocked it out with its club?” Harry repeats, amused.

Hermione’s eyes are bright with laughter.  “A tried and tested method.”  She sobers a touch and looks over at James. 

Harry follows her gaze.  Somehow, he isn’t surprised to find Lily hovering on the far side of the bed, her attention on James’ prone figure.

“How is he?” asks Hermione.

“Resting,” Ariana says firmly.  Her sharp gaze turns to Harry.  “As you should be.”

Before Harry can reply, a limping Locke enters helped by Sara, drawing Ariana’s attention.  On their heels is Dumbledore.

The Headmaster looks calm on the surface, but Harry knows Dumbledore and he can see the simmering banked fury in Dumbledore’s blue eyes and tensed expression.

“Professor and Instructor Potter,” Dumbledore says formally.  “It is good to see you looking well.  Professor Black provided a brief summary of events when he arrived in Hogwarts with Auror Potter, but I would appreciate a full debriefing.”

“We should probably take an official statement on what happened with the centaurs,” Bertie adds.  “Lady Peverell let us know why James wasn’t in Hogsmeade, even though he’d summoned support, but given his injury I’m sure Scrimgeour and Crouch will want a full report.”

“Perhaps you should take everyone back to your office, Albus?” Ariana suggests briskly from the other side of the infirmary where she’s examining the output from Locke’s diagnostic.  “The infirmary is hardly the place for such a discussion.”

Dorea pats Charlus’ arm.  “You go with them, dear.  You can tell me everything later.”

Charlus kisses her cheek and nods. 

Lily looks up.  “Headmaster, if I may be excused?  Hermione will be able to inform you of anything that happened in Hogsmeade relevant to my own experience.”

Dumbledore nods.  He looks over at Locke briefly.  “I’ll get your briefing later, Professor Locke.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t much to say, Headmaster,” Locke says sheepishly.  “When I heard about the troll at the other end of Hogsmeade from a fleeing student, I started to run to help, fell and twisted my ankle.”

Sara flushes as Dumbledore’s attention is drawn to her.  “I sheltered in a shop until the troll was dealt with.  I was escorting some students back when we came across Professor Locke.  He decided his injury was fine to walk back with the students rather than taking a portkey here.”

Ariana clears her throat.  “Since you actually have a broken ankle that perhaps was not the best decision.”

“Ah,” Locke grimaces.

Ariana looks pointedly at her brother.

Dumbledore nods.  “You’re also excused then Professor Wood, Professor Locke.  If everyone else can follow me, please.”

They all troop after Dumbledore.

Harry is grateful for the comforting touch of Hermione’s hand in his.  Charlus and Sirius are just behind him, Bertie and Peter behind them.

They enter the office and find that there are others waiting in the room.

Dumbledore shows a flicker of surprise as he turns to Snape who is standing beside the hearth.  “Severus?”

“You have visitors, Master Dumbledore,” Snape replies evenly.  “Minister Bagnold, Head Auror Scrimgeour, Senior Auror Moody and Lord Black agreed to wait here for you in your office.”

Arcturus’ gaze immediately goes to check on Sirius before it returns to Harry and Hermione, roaming over them as he checks they’re fine. 

Harry offers him a reassuring nod and smile.

Bagnold looks stern.  Her fussy blouse with its oversize bow looks terrible and the style doesn’t suit her stately figure at all.  At least her no-nonsense grey suit does fit her well. 

Scrimgeour looks puffed up on his own importance.  His hard gaze falls on Bertie and Peter.  Moody’s gaze sweeps over all of them.

“I’ve had disturbing reports, Albus,” Bagnold says crisply.  “We thought it best to get briefed immediately.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore says smoothly.  “I was just about to get a debriefing myself while Aurors Croaker and Pettigrew took the official statements.”

It takes a few minutes for introductions and for them all to get seated.  Harry, Hermione and Sirius are together on the existing sofa, while Arcturus and Charlus sit on conjured chairs next to them.  In front of them, Dumbledore sits on a chair in the centre, flagged by Bagnold on one side and Scrimgeour on the other.  Moody, Bertie and Peter stand to the side of Scrimgeour.  Snape continues to lurk in the back despite having no reason that Harry can see for being there.  The house elves have brought refreshments and Harry sips on his glass of water gratefully.      

“Perhaps we can start with what happened in Hogsmeade,” states Scrimgeour.

Hermione clears her throat and briefly outlines the arrival of the troll.  “Harry and I believed it was a diversion tactic to draw attention away from another attack.  We’d seen it done before on our own world.”             

“Senior Auror Moody tells us that he gave permission for Auror Potter to escort you through the forest to speak to the centaurs last weekend,” Bagnold says.  “Are we to assume that this is part of the mission our King set out for you as Knights of Avalon?”

Hermione glances at Harry.

Harry clears his throat, remembering how he and Sirius had talked about suggesting the mission was Riddle.  “Hermione and I battled the same Dark wizard in my world that now endangers the unicorns and who attacked the centaurs.  I believe that is part of why we were brought to your world.”

“As you can see our knowledge of events on our own world gave us insight into what was likely being attempted here,” Hermione adds, backing up Harry as she always does.

Dumbledore nods.  “It makes sense of why the King appointed travellers from another world to the cause rather than one of our own people.”

Bagnold inclines her head.

“You said you realised it was a diversion tactic, lass?” Moody prompts.

Hermione turns to the grizzled Auror.  He has a few scars from clashes with criminals, but he isn’t the scarred survivor of the First Wizarding War that Harry met as a young boy. 

“Auror Potter called for assistance to help me deal with the troll and left with Harry to provide him with back-up,” Hermione continues.  “Professor Evans had remained with the students in The Three Broomsticks, I first directed students away from the troll and into dwellings where they would be safe.  Auror Croaker and Auror Pettigrew arrived, and we were able to form a perimeter to prevent the troll from traversing further.  According to my diagnostics, the troll was under a compulsion.  We attempted a tri-fold stun with spells from all three of us and when that failed, I determined that using the troll’s own club to knock it out would be the best course of action.”

“Which she did,” Peter says gleefully again.

“We were able to guide the troll’s descent when it collapsed, ensuring no harm to buildings, people or the road infrastructure,” Hermione continues.  “Auror Croaker sent for a containment team from the Department of the Regulation of Magical Creatures and I began to evacuate the students back to Hogwarts believing it was best to get them away so the authorities could handle the troll.”

“That was very well done, Professor Potter!” Bagnold says effusively.  “You are to be commended!  Do you not agree, Albus?”

“I do indeed.  You are certainly to be commended, Professor,” Dumbledore smiles at her warmly.  “Your actions helped to safeguard our students and the populace of Hogsmeade.”

“If you want a job in the Aurors, lass…” Moody begins and ignores the glare Scrimgeour sends his way.

“I’ll leave that to others,” Hermione says primly. 

“Perhaps you can provide a reasoning as to what happened when you left your wife, Potter?” Scrimgeour growls.

“Lord Peverell,” Charlus snaps out tersely.  “You will address him as Lord Peverell, Knight Peverell or Instructor Potter, Head Auror.”

Scrimgeour’s cheeks go a ruddy red colour.  “My apologies,” he bites out. 

Harry has a feeling Scrimgeour is anything but apologetic. 

He sighs and recounts events at the centaur village.  At one point Moody steps aside to Floo order other Aurors to bring in Lestrange for questioning.

Hermione’s hand tightens on his as he makes his way through the attack of the rogue centaurs and Bagnold gasps out loud when he tells them of James’ injury. 

Dumbledore looks at him speculatively when he talks of healing James with the family magic.  Harry knows he’s given away just how powerful he is, but it is unavoidable.

Sirius briefly takes over to explain bringing James back to Hogwarts as Harry takes a needed gulp of water.  Harry picks up the account again, leaving out the speculation over Riddle’s decay and the likely living anchor.  Sirius chimes in as they finish with their casting of the Fidelius.    

“I was wondering why I couldn’t remember where the village was,” Hermione murmurs.

“I assume you can give the secret to those of us who have been in the past?” asks Dumbledore.

“With the permission of the centaurs,” Harry replies firmly.  His energy is fading fast.  “I’ll provide the memory to you of Rodolphus Lestrange as evidence, but I suspect that his Dark Lord will have already taken steps to remove him from the possibility of an arrest.”

“You think he’s sent him abroad?” asks Scrimgeour gruffly.

“I think he’s killed him,” Harry says bluntly.  “If it is the same Dark Lord as my own, he has little tolerance for failure.”

“You will tell us all you know about him,” orders Scrimgeour angrily.

“Of course,” Hermione says, meeting his furious gaze with one of her own.  “Once we determine a proper Council and all take the appropriate vows.”  She gestures.  “While all here may be trustworthy, the Dark Lord’s influence corrupted the Ministry and Aurors in our world.  We should make certain that if he does have spies among you that we limit when they might learn.”

“A wise perspective,” Bagnold says sharply before Scrimgeour can reply.  She shoots him a hard look.

“If you have no more questions, I’d like to follow my healer’s advice and get some rest,” Harry says bluntly.

Scrimgeour looks like he’s going to argue, but Charlus stands up signalling the end of the meeting and the rest follow him.

Hermione snags an arm around him as they make their way out of the office and Harry leans into her strength.  By the time they reach their quarters, Sirius is supporting him on his other side and all but carries him up the stairs. Harry focuses on one foot in front of the other until he’s tucked up in bed.  The last thing he remembers is Hermione dropping a kiss on his forehead and then, nothing until morning.

Chapter 10: Interlude

James knows he’s dreaming.

The last thing he remembers is the shock of the blow from the sword.  He’d been flooded by overwhelming pain and horror.  His last memory is looking down and seeing his hands stained red with blood.

In his dream he stands on the battlements of a castle, the Pendragon banners flying overhead.  He looks out into the distance and sees nothing but green rolling hills, dotted with woodland and wildlife, with an occasional hamlet nestled in between corners.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” says a voice beside him.

James glances and startles at the sight of the King, a tall blond man dressed in a shining chest plate of amour with a red cape held with a Pendragon pin.  He drops to his knee, bowing his head.  “My King.”

“Rise, James of the House of Gryffindor, kin of my kin,” Arthur says warmly.  He clasps James’ shoulder briefly. 

“Kin?” stutters James, desperately trying to recall his family tree.

“My half-sister Elaine married Cai of Caerfyrddin,” Arthur says.  He searches James’ eyes.  “You did not know?”

“We knew her name as Elaine,” James says honestly, “but not of her relation to you.”

Arthur hums and wags a finger.  “Too often people forget Igraine was my mother as much as Uther was my father.” He stares out into the landscape.  “Mothers are deeply important, James.”

“Mine is the best woman I know,” James agrees.  He shifts to look out as Arthur does.  He feels uncertain in the presence of his King, shaken by the revelation that he’s actually related to Arthur.    

Arthur nods.  “I’ve brought you here to the place in-between where Camelot waits for the return to the world because I have need of you, James Potter.”

James frowns, concern flooding him.  He tries to reach for the family magic to check, but everything is too foggy and distant.  “Is Harry alright?  Did he get injured or…”

“Harry is well,” Arthur places his hand again on James’ shoulder.  “He has protected the centaurs from the wizards who attacked.  He is my Champion.”

James notes the self-satisfied tone that Arthur uses and his banked anger for Harry stirs.  “You know you ripped him away from his world!”

Arthur’s face flickers with surprise at James’ sharp tone.  “I brought his heart to aide him and comfort him,” he says simply, “and in truth there was no other way.”

James searches Arthur’s face.  He sees his sincerity and certainty, but he still can’t help but feel aggrieved on Harry’s behalf.  “Harry has been through so much already in his life.  He deserves to rest, not to have to fight again!  It’s not fair to ask him to protect our world!”

Arthur hums.  “I do not disagree,” he says, “but Merlin Saw and Cador Saw…there was no other way our world survives than with this Harry Potter standing in front of the Light and protecting it from the Dark, with his sworn love beside him.”

James feels helpless at the sense of destiny that rings in Arthur’s words.  Deep down he knows it’s futile to try and change Arthur’s mind about Harry.  In many ways he doesn’t want Harry’s existence in their own world undone.  He loves Harry.

“You feel a father’s protectiveness,” Arthur states crisply.  “His father, his James Potter, gave his life trying to save his son and his wife.”

“I would do no less,” James admits.  He can’t imagine the scale of the fear which had filled his counterpart, but after the fight in the centaur village, that moment of being stabbed through and knowing Sirius and Harry might still be vulnerable to attack…he thinks he now has some idea. 

Arthur nods.  He turns in the direction of the castle.  “Walk with me, James.”

They step away from the battlements and into the castle in a blink of an eye. 

James takes in the throne room with awe. 

Large Pendragon banners drop from the rafters and the floor is a tiled mosaic depicting a fierce battle at Badon Hill.  The throne itself is a simple wooden chair placed on the floor and not on a dais or stage.  The crest of Pendragon is burnt into the wood.

Arthur stands in front of his throne with his large sword, the pommel resting easily in his hands, pointed down at the floor.  “For Merlin’s magic to work, we could not allow a Harry Potter to be born in this world.”

James stares at him uncomprehendingly.  “What?” he finally asks.

“In all the worlds but this, you and Lily Evans are married and have a child born in the seventh month of the year when the wizard calling himself Voldemort rises,” Arthur says. 

James doesn’t know how he feels about that.  He is…far too enamoured of Lily to pretend otherwise.  He remembers knowing as soon as he met her that she was the woman he wanted to marry, yet he’d accepted when they’d left Hogwarts that nothing would ever likely happen between them.  His dislike for Snape had kept their relationship adversarial at Hogwarts and they’d just been too adrift in their circles and lives since to be anything other than passing acquaintances. 

Harry’s arrival had changed that.  He’s the best of the both of them.  They can see what their children might be when they look at Harry.

James thinks Lily would accept a courting gesture from him now.  Except if there is magic involved in keeping them apart…

He looks at his King.  “What was done to prevent us marrying?”

“In truth, it wasn’t much,” Arthur says, a tinge of regret in his voice.  A tap of his sword against the stone floor and a very familiar Sorting Hat appears.  “It was Godric’s final mission as a Knight of Avalon; he spelled the Hat to Sort Lily Evans into Ravenclaw and you to Gryffindor.”

“And Snape?” asks James. “Was the Hat spelled to place him with her?  He went to Slytherin in Harry’s world.”

“The Hat sent him with his friend,” Arthur says with a chuckle.  “He chose her rather than Slytherin.  If she’d Sorted to Gryffindor, he could not have followed – his own prejudice and fear of his mother’s wrath would not have allowed it.  The Hat would never have placed him there.”

James grimaces.  He knows from Harry that Lily had been a Gryffindor in his world, and he can see if they’d been in the same House, if Snape had been a Slytherin and that had led to a deterioration of Snape’s friendship with Lily…he can see how he and Lily might have found their way to one another by their final year.

He sighs, turning over the information in his head.  “You said the magic to bring him here meant he could not be born here.”

Arthur nods.

“Is the same true for Hermione?” asks James.

“I am afraid so,” Arthur murmurs.  “A single time-locked spell ensured that her father and mother were not together to create a babe when she might have been conceived in this world.” 

He looks more than regretful which calms something in James’ spirit.

“Will there be further interference in my relationship with Lily?” asks James. 

Arthur shakes his head.  “Whatever happens now will be by your own free will and only swayed by the normal ebbs and flows of events.  Riddle will still cause trouble; Evil still walks.”

James nods slowly.  “Should Harry be getting involved in this Riddle business or should we be focusing on the wider Evil?”

“Harry has no choice but to deal with Riddle, he is Fated to defeat Riddle.”

“But only on his own world,” James argues, and takes a moment to wonder that he is arguing with his King.  He breathes in deeply to calm his sudden attack of nerves.  “Harry is not Fated here surely.”

“Merlin thought Fate likely to believe otherwise; Harry is always her Chosen,” Arthur says.  “In every world, Fate moves Her Hand and only Harry Potter can defeat Tom Riddle.”

James sighs.  He really wishes Harry did not have to carry that responsibility again.  All he could do, he muses, is make sure that Harry has the support and help he needs.  “Did you bring me here to explain about why I’m not his father in this world?”

“Not entirely,” Arthur says, “but you are kin and were owed the explanation nevertheless.”

James blinks and they are in a forest, stood on the edge of a clearing.  Ahead of them is a black stag.  He’s a beautiful creature with a full set of black antlers – a true King of the Forest in a way that Prongs is not.

“Cador was my half-brother, he died protecting me in the final battle,” Arthur says fondly.  “His Sight came from wild magic.  Our mother’s line was rumoured to descend from the Wild Huntsman himself.”

“There is a theory that Merlin was descended from Gwyn ap Nudd,” James says.

Arthur huffs a laugh.  “He told me once it was a story his mother told to justify her laying with his father.”

James smiles.  He regards the black stag with interest.  “So, Cador was an animagus stag?”

“All the Black Knights are,” Arthur says, holding James’ gaze intently.

James thinks of Sirius’ panther Patronus.  He had thought that it would be Sirius’ form, but apparently not.  His cousin is a Black Knight and therefore has a stag animagus like James himself. 

“What is lesser known is that for every Black Knight, there is a White Knight that rises,” Arthur says softly.  He nods towards the idyllic clearing.

James turns sharply and his breath catches in his throat as a white stag emerges from the far forest.

“Cador had Cai,” Arthur says, “and his grandson had Galahad.  The Black Knight’s purpose is to stand beside my Chosen and protect them, but the White Knight…he is the one who protects the Black Knight.”

James wonders why this lore is never spoken of in the wizarding world.  He wonders if Sirius knows about the White Knights.  He probably does, James realises.

“Merlin and I,” Arthur murmurs, “we did not fully understand the ripples the family magic would make.  Some small, some large.  People lived who might have died, a cure for chaos magic when there would be none otherwise.  A man born who would have been otherwise a woman, and a woman who might have been a man.  Changes that shifted events just that little further off track than the original tapestry intended.”

James can understand that.  The differences between his world and Harry’s are immense because of the family magic. 

“In this world, the existence of family magic changed a vital brotherhood that I would see set right,” Arthur says.

James looks over at him.

Arthur nods towards the clearing again.  “In every world but this, Sirius Black was never rescued by Arcturus.  He endured his mother’s abuse and his father’s negligence.  He rebelled and Sorted to Gryffindor knowing that the friend and cousin he’d finally met on the train would go there.  And when he was but sixteen in years, after his mother tortured and beat him, he ran away to him, the boy who had become his best friend, his brother in magic, James Potter.” He returns his gaze to James.  “In every world but this, James asks Sirius to be Harry’s godfather.”

James swallows hard. 

Before Christmas he couldn’t have imagined such a world.  He’d unfairly hated Sirius because of how the Blacks had hurt James’ mother.  He had targeted and bullied his cousin during their school years.  He’d refused an official rapprochement between their families believing Sirius had been involved in attacking Remus.

But with Harry’s arrival, the truth had come out and things have changed.

James likes Sirius.  He might have acquiesced to Sirius’ request to build a real familial relationship out of duty, but he’s spent a lot of time in Sirius’ company since and he enjoys being with Sirius. 

Moreover, he can talk to Sirius about things that he cannot with the other Mischief Makers.  Not just the secrets they keep about Harry and Hermione; not just the secrets of the Blacks, but the stress and strain of being the heir of an Ancient and Noble House.

He contorts his face in disgust because even thinking such a thing feels snobbish and unfair to his friends, but he can admit in this place in-between that as snobbish and unfair as the thought is, it is also the truth.

He can imagine a world where he and Sirius became as close as brothers.

“I would see you and Sirius regain your brotherhood, James,” Arthur says warmly.  “I would see you become the White Knight to his Black.”

He remembers the fight and standing shoulder to shoulder with Sirius defending the centaurs.  They’d fought seamlessly in synch, as though they had been doing so for eons.

“My mission will be to watch his back and provide him with protection as he helps Harry and Hermione?” James checks.

“And to provide him with fellowship,” Arthur says.  “He is building a friendship with my Knights, but Harry and Hermione are not of his world and his relationship with Harry is complicated due to Harry’s feelings for his late godfather.  My Black Knight carries the burden of his Sight.” He grimaces.  “Their experiences on their world have blighted Harry and Hermione’s view of such gifts.”

James can’t deny that.  “Anything else I should be told or know before I agree?  I mean, it won’t stop me from courting Lily or doing my job or…”

“You will need to consider your work at some point, the duties of a Knight may need to take precedence one day and you will need to make a choice,” Arthur says, visibly amused, his eyes twinkling, “but nothing to impede your courtship of the lovely Lily Evans.”

“Right,” James vaguely remembers Calum had alluded he’d need to make a choice about duty when they’d met with the centaurs before.  It sounds though that he’ll need to make that one sometime in the future.  If there is nothing else…he takes a deep breath and holds the gaze of his King.  “I accept.”

“Then kneel, James Potter,” Arthur orders.

He went to his knee and…

They were back in the throne room.

“You swear that your wand and your magic will guard Camelot?” asks Arthur, his words resonating with power.

James swallows against the nerves in his belly.  “My wand and magic will guard Camelot,” he swears.

“Rise then, kin of my kin, as the White Knight,” Arthur declares.

There’s a ghostly cheer echoing around the room followed by the thunderous stamp of a hundred feet on stone.

Magic fills the air and James shivers.

“Have more of a care for your own life in future, Knight Potter,” Arthur reaches out and clasps his shoulder.  His blue eyes remain intent on James’ as the hand on his shoulder squeezes gently. “We will meet again.”

James blinks and…

He’s opening his eyes to a familiar ceiling; the Hogwarts infirmary.  The lights are dimmed and he thinks it might be nighttime.

“James?” his mother’s voice pulls his attention to his left.

She looks worried.

He reaches out weakly, and she captures his hand in hers.

“Dear boy!” His mother kisses his knuckles and smiles at him through her tears.  “You’re safe in Hogwarts, James.  Sirius brought you after Harry healed you in the centaur village.”

James hums. 

A sound to his right has him turning his head and he finds Lily sitting in a chair beside his bed.

“Lily,” James croaks.  He feels his heart pound in delight at finding her there.  That has to mean something doesn’t it?  That she stayed with him?

Lily smiles and she reaches for the water jug and pours him a glass. 

Between the three of them, they manage to get him situated sitting up and resting back on what feels like a mountain of pillows.

“Harry?” he asks.

“Sleeping,” his mother replies.  “He was magically exhausted.  So was Sirius although he was hiding it better. Once he helped Harry into his bed, he all but collapsed into his own.  Your father is holding watch with Arcturus in their quarters.”

James nods.  He turns back to Lily.  “The troll?”

“All handled,” Lily says dryly.  “Hermione took care of it by knocking it out with its own club.”

James blinks.

Ariana crosses the ward floor and Lily moves aside to allow the healer to check on him.  By the time she’s finished and left, James can feel the pull of sleep tugging at him.

“Sleep, James,” his mother says.

And he lets himself fall.

It’s morning when he wakes again. 

Lily is gone.  He assumes Ariana chased her back to her own bed.  His mother is napping on the bed next to him and his father is in the chair his mother had occupied.

There isn’t much time to exchange anything more than a brief handclasp with his relieved father before Ariana arrives.  His parents are hustled out to get their breakfasts and James is swept up in a whirl of treatment.

He’s back in bed soon enough, feeling as whiny as he did when he was twelve and he’d fallen down the main stairs and been confined to the infirmary.

Harry and Hermione arrive just after he finishes his breakfast, and he greets them cheerfully.  His eyes run over Harry, checking that he’s fine as Hermione explains his mother and father are resting and will be along later.

Harry looks tired, but his eyes are clear, and his voice is resolute when he insists that he’ll be fine to referee the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw match even as Hermione rolls her eyes at him.

James pouts.  He was really looking forward to the match. 

Hermione leans over and pats his hand.  “Ariana has said that you can attend if you rest.  We’ll bundle you up and use a wheelchair to get you over to the stands.  She’s mostly concerned that your body has time to absorb the healing without you running around at your usual pace.”

James sighs.  He pushes his glasses up his nose.  “Well, if I’m stuck here for the morning maybe you can let me know what happened while I was out of it.”

Hermione grins at him at him as she takes the seat Lily had used and Harry pulls up another to sit beside her.   Her tale of taking down the troll makes him laugh.  Harry explains setting the Fidelius with Sirius and he nods with satisfaction.

“You did the right thing,” James says.  “The centaurs need the protection.”  And if he never learns the secret and never returns to the centaurs, that will be fine by him.

Harry smiles.  His eyes suddenly dart to the clock.  “I should go and open the Players’ Hall.  I hope you make it to the game.”

“Me too!” James says fervently.  He stares longingly at the blue sky beyond the window.

They’ve barely left when Sirius arrives.  For a moment James wonders if it was planned.

Sirius pauses by the end of the bed, his brow creasing as he looks at James.

James looks back at him, confused at his perusal.  “Sirius?”

His cousin finally slides into the chair his mother had occupied the night before.  “It’s good to see you looking well.”

“I have you to thank for that,” James says with genuine gratitude.  “I know Harry saved my life because you were able to direct him on how to use the family magic.”

“You were lucky that he’s incredibly powerful,” Sirius says quietly, his silver eyes sombre.  “Your wound was a fatal one.  I’m not sure I would have had the power to heal something like that even using the family magic.”

James nods slowly accepting that. 

“Unfortunately, the Ministry now knows just how powerful he is too,” Sirius says.

James listens as Sirius details the meeting that had happened in Dumbledore’s office.  Sirius is just as unhappy that Dumbledore knows how powerful Harry is as much as he was upset about the Ministry, James realises.

And he’s right to be.  Their Ministry might not be the cesspool that Harry describes when he talks of his Ministry of Magic, but James isn’t blind to the fact that there is corruption and politics at play in their own.

“We’ll need to protect him more,” James says out loud. 

Sirius nods.  He arches an eyebrow.  “Is there something you want to tell me?”

James looks at him blankly.

“Your magic shines with the mark of our King,” Sirius says.

“It does?” James’ eyes widen in alarm.  “Uh…”

“White Knight?” asks Sirius archly.

James sighs heavily, slumping back into his pillows.  There is a rush of relief at Sirius guessing and knowing. 

“It’s a heavy thing having the regard of our King,” Sirius says softly. 

“It was the most incredible experience of my life and the most terrifying,” James admits with a laugh.

Sirius smiles.  “I was eleven when he visited me in my dreams for the first time.”

“Does he visit a lot?” James blurts out the question in shock at Sirius’ words.

Sirius shrugs.  “Not that often, but more than I had thought would happen.  My ancestors’ accounts of being the Black Knight didn’t really mention it, although both Cador and Conway lived during the King’s own lifetime.  Dream visits were not necessary for them.”

“Are there any accounts from the White Knights?” asks James.

“You should check your library and vault,” Sirius advises.  “I see books on our shelves that Reg and Grandfather do not.”

James regards him contemplatively, a stray thought running through his head.  “You Saw my becoming the White Knight, didn’t you?” He strives to keep any note of accusation out of his tone.   

“There’s a prophecy about the Black Knight and the White Knight in the DOM,” Sirius says.

James lets the shock of that settle before he speaks.  “What?”

“I figured after listening to it that you were the most likely candidate,” Sirius admits.  He gestures.  “We never had the type of relationship before Harry where I could tell you, and we’re still getting to know each other.  I thought I had more time to tell you.”

James sighs.  He rubs his chin thoughtfully.  “I might not have believed you.”  He shakes his head.  “I hardly believe it happened to me and I was there!”

They sit in silent for a long moment.

James sighs again.  “You said there’s going to be some kind of War Council forming around the Riddle mess?”

“Yes,” Sirius says grimly.  “With the attack on the centaurs and Riddle’s presence there, Harry feels they have no choice but to tell what they know from his world.  The Council is a good way of ensuring Riddle doesn’t corrupt those who will act to take him down, but it’s not a perfect failsafe.”

“At least I can keep an eye on things as an Auror,” James says.  “I’m in and out of the Ministry every day.”  He looks over at Sirius.  “And you guard his back here.”

Sirius nods.

They say nothing more because they’re in Dumbledore’s territory.

James wonders when he started to think of Dumbledore as an enemy.

There’s noise by the door and James breaks into a grin as Bertie and Peter walk through the main infirmary doors.  They must be on duty, he muses, as he takes in their Auror robes.  He watches as both do a double-take at the sight of Sirius by his bedside and cast a glance at each other as they head over.

“Bertie! Peter!” James smiles at them even as he ignores the unsettled feeling in his gut at their interaction. “It’s good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too, Prongs!” Bertie says.

Peter nods before he shoots a glowering look at Sirius.  “Of course, if you’d waited for proper back-up rather than a Professor of History, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten skewered in the first place!”

Sirius rolls his eyes at Peter and gets to his feet.  “I assume as you’re in uniform you’re here to take my cousin’s statement, Auror Pettigrew?”  He doesn’t wait for a response.  “I’ll leave you to it.”  He nods at James and departs.

James shoots Peter a hard look.

“What?” says Peter, folding his arms over his chest belligerently.

“Sirius helped to save my life,” James says mildly, “you owe him an apology for that remark.”

Peter huffs.  “I’m not apologising to Black, Prongs.”  He stares at him.  “You know there was a time when you would have loudly agreed with me that he’s nothing but a pompous arrogant prick.”

It was James’ turn to roll his eyes.  “Haven’t we all left the schoolboy posturing behind?  And if we haven’t, isn’t it time to do that?”

“We just miss you, Prongs!” Bertie cuts in before Peter can retort.  “You’re spending all your time with Sirius or with Harry and Hermione.”

“Don’t forget Lily!” Peter adds in a mocking lilting tone.

“You’ve hardly spent any time with us outside of work for weeks!” Bertie continues.

“Not to mention Moony is still abroad because you two fought over Black!” Peter snaps.

James holds up his hands.  He regards his two oldest friends with a clear eye.  He can see their discomfort at his new alliances, and he can understand it. 

“Firstly,” James says firmly, “Moony is abroad because Dumbles asked him to go treat with the werewolves.  I told him clearly that he didn’t have to remove himself from England even if I wasn’t ready to forgive him.”

“There isn’t anything to forgive…” Peter began.

“Yes, there bloody is!” James snaps back. 

Peter’s eyes widen.

“You may not care, Peter, but my family’s honour was endangered by Remus allowing me to think that Sirius was behind his attack,” James says strongly.  “I advised my father not to accept a rapprochement with my mother’s family because I believed him.  Had I not found out the truth and had the Blacks not been courteous enough to allow us a second chance to respond to their proposal, our magic would have been damaged by the dishonour, and that would have had political implications!”

“Since when have you been bothered about politics?” asks Bertie, not even bothering to hide a whit of his bewilderment.

“Since my universe-travelling son arrived in our world in need of my protection,” James bites out.  “Sirius said you were both present in the meeting in Dumbledore’s office, can you really say that Harry and his wife should just be left to fend off the likes of Scrimgeour and Bagnold, and forgive me, Bertie, but your Uncle, by themselves?”

Both of his friends look somewhat chastised.

“I know I explained this when the rapprochement happened and I’m glad you followed my request then to apologise to Sirius,” James says, “but maybe I didn’t explain it well enough.  Sirius’ only request as compensation for my treatment of him was that we build a familial relationship as cousins and that he had my oath to do that seriously.” He pauses.  “No pun intended.”

Bertie snorts.

“That means spending time with him,” James states firmly.  “He and I are both united in protecting Harry and Hermione; we have a common cause.”

He can see how his words are beginning to sink into their heads even if Peter still looks stubbornly tense.

“I will spend time with you,” he promises, “but you should also give Sirius a chance.  He’s a decent bloke under his whole public Baron Blackthorn persona.”

Peter huffs.  “If you say so.”

Bertie shoots Peter a look.  “We’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask,” James says taking a conciliatory tone, “and I will also try harder.” 

“Fine,” Peter says briskly.  He stabs a finger at him. “But I’ll be holding you to your word!”

Bertie nods in agreement

“Mischief managed then,” James states.  He pushes his glasses up his nose.  “What happened with Lestrange?  Sirius says Harry identified him.”

“In the wind,” Peter says tersely.  “Your mad cousin, Bellatrix, said she hadn’t seen her husband in days and had no idea where he might have gone.”

“His weird younger brother’s gone missing too,” Bertie says.  “They could stay in hiding for a while.”

“Tremendous,” James says.  He rests back on his pillows and wonders if he can take a nap for the next year.

“Talking of Lestrange,” Peter says.  “We still have to get your statement, Prongs.”  He grins at James’ disgruntled expression.

James sighs heavily and submits to the questioning.  His gaze drifts back to the sky outside and promises himself, he will make it out to the match.

Continued in: A Jump to the Left: Part 3