Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Chapter 1: An Old Friend

Harry lifts his face to the early morning sunshine.

The breeze brushes over him carrying the scent of the ocean. In the distance he can hear the waves lightly lapping onto the stony shore of the beach. It is a soothing sound which lulls him into keeping his eyes closed, far too comfortable in the half-daze of the after-breakfast nap he and Hermione are taking on the double sun-lounger she had conjured on their second day.

Hermione’s fingers squeeze his lightly, drawing his attention to his wife curled up beside him in a now familiar way after their week at the beach cabin.

Harry thinks she’s the most beautiful woman in the world even if she’s dressed in one of his t-shirts and a pair of fleecy pink pyjama bottoms. Her curly caramel hair is tamed into a single thick braid, but wisps of hair have escaped and frame her sweetheart shaped face. Her eyes open, pools of warm milk chocolate framed with sooty lashes. She smiles at him and Harry doesn’t resist the urge to kiss her.

She’s smiling as she kisses him back and hums as he draws away, cuddling back into his side as he draws her closer. “What time did Charlus say he’d send our portkey?”

At the bottom of the lounger, her familiar Crookshanks lets out a rumbly snore, his whiskers twitching. Across the deck, Godric, Harry’s grim, snorts and flops dramatically down in a patch of sunlight, settling onto the wood with a thump. The grim has failed to find any food debris on the floor and cannot reach the remains of breakfast which litter the picnic table.

“Ten,” Harry says.

They’d promised to spend the day with the family before heading back to Hogwarts in time to greet the returning students. Dumbledore had insisted that all the staff be present for a staff meeting and dinner.

Hermione sighs. “Is it bad that I just want us to stay here in this cabin until Director Bell finally works out how to send us home to our own world?”

It still feels crazy to think that they’ve travelled to another world thanks to a spell Merlin had created to specifically bring them, but Harry is less anxious at the idea of not returning to their own world as time passes.

He misses their friends madly. He often thinks he should tell something to Ron or Neville or Luna and is still surprised at the lack of them. But he also remembers that before he and Hermione got pulled into this world, they had been studying at muggle university because he had been exiled for having chaotic magic, and Hermione had been all but banished because of restrictive legislation concerning muggleborns.

Harry feels the same ache to stay in the cabin rather than return to the craziness of their lives outside of it though. He tightens his arms around her, and she presses impossibly closer.

The memory of meeting with the spirit of King Arthur himself during the one and only Wizengamot ceremony which Harry has attended flickers through his head. It had been the King who had informed him that their trip to another dimension had been of Merlin’s making because of the need to have a champion against a foreseen but faceless and formless Evil. He had asked Harry to take up the quest, to find and end the Evil, to ensure the destruction of the world did not happen before Camelot could awake. To assist them in their quest, Arthur had conferred the sacred title of Knight of Avalon onto Harry and Hermione both. It is something which Harry views more as a curse than a blessing.

It is a heavy task. One that weighs on Harry even more so because Merlin had chosen him specifically to perform it and snatched Hermione up to help him. He’s never going to forgive either Merlin or Arthur for that, even if he’s incredibly grateful to have her beside him.

Taking a whole week to themselves over the Easter break has been perfect even if most of the people around them had complained about it. Harry is glad that he had put his foot down; he and Hermione have barely stopped since their arrival and the conferring of their titles.

At least Merlin had also snatched up Crookshanks (Hermione is absolutely certain it is her Crookshanks and no other) and given Harry the gift of Godric. Hermione believes that the gifts might have more meaning than they think. Her research has shown that Merlin often gifted the Knights of Avalon something which became important to the resolution of their missions.

“You’re thinking about our Knights of Avalon mission again,” Hermione murmurs. She reaches up and smooths the line between his brows.

“We haven’t exactly made a lot of progress,” Harry comments, rubbing the top of her arm absently, his thumb sliding under the sleeve of the t-shirt to touch her skin.

“I’m not sure we’re going to until we’ve dealt with Riddle,” Hermione says, shifting away enough so they are lying on their sides, able to see each other face to face. “We have to assume with what happened back in February, and the weird synergy of events between our world and this one, that Fate has definitely chosen you to end him here too.”

Harry sighs because there is no doubt in his magic that Fate has chosen him. Harry hates carrying the very familiar burden again, although he’d never wish it on baby Neville who is due to be born in the summer.

Harry clasps their free hands together and holds them against his heart as he considers how the timing of everything is so twisted in this world compared to their own.

The year is the same as the one they left, but Voldemort’s First War is just beginning and their schoolfriends are beginning to be born. Frank and Alice Longbottom are expecting Neville, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are expecting Draco.

Harry himself will never be born on this world, and they’ve established that a version of Hermione was not born back in September. James had learned from a dream experience with King Arthur that Merlin had interfered again because Harry and Hermione could not have been brought to this world if another version of them had been born.

James.

Harry still can’t quite believe that his Potter family is alive here. James Potter and Lily Evans are not married due to Merlin’s interference; the Sorting Hat had been fixed to send Lily to Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor with James. But they are courting now, Harry thinks with glee. Harry’s own arrival has meant that the couple spend more time in each other’s orbits. It has allowed for their natural attraction to emerge, for them to connect with each other as adults.

But it is not just his parents who are alive. He’s had the weird experience of getting to know his Potter grandparents, Charlus and Dorea, who are a constant support, and at the beginning of the Easter holiday, Lily had introduced him to his Evans’ grandparents.

They are a cheerful loving couple. They’ve welcomed Harry and Hermione into the family with nothing but warmth and curiosity. He still can’t believe they’re related to Petunia. The newly married Dursleys hadn’t exactly been happy at the welcome lunch. Petunia had barely eaten anything despite being pregnant, presumably with Harry’s cousin, Dudley.

“And that’s your Dursley face,” Hermione states with amusement. She traces a finger down his nose which he realises belatedly that he’s wrinkling in disgust.

“Just trying to work out how Marigold and Edward managed to raise someone like Petunia,” Harry admits.

Hermione hums thoughtfully. “It is a mystery.” She gives a small shoulder shrug as her hand presses against Harry’s heart. “Much of her ire at lunch was jealousy, I think. She’s expecting the first grandchild, only your arrival in the family has kind of trumped that. In her place, I might be a little miffed at losing that kind of spotlight.”

“Have you thought more about us seeing the Grangers?” Harry asks carefully. He knows it is a hard topic for Hermione. She’d had a difficult relationship with her own parents after she’d restored their memories after the war.

Hermione shakes her head. “I think I’ll know through the family magic when and if they get pregnant with a magical child. I’ll introduce us then, but I think it would be better to pretend I’m a distant relation rather than say I’m their daughter from another universe.”

Family magic is the source of the difference. Invented after Merlin and Arthur had fallen into another universe themselves and seen the destruction which could be wrought, they’d invented it to avoid Mordred’s betrayal. Family magic has fundamentally changed the path of the world in ways that Harry and Hermione are continually discovering.

Harry leans in and kisses her. “Maybe that other universe sibling will happen sooner than you think.”

Hermione starts to smile. “You really think Fate wants our universe siblings to be friends?”

“Every Potter needs the brightest witch of their generation to be friends with them,” Harry argues.

Hermione laughs and kisses him. “You’re just thrilled James and Lily are dating now.”

Harry makes a dismissive noise because he really is thrilled about it. Although, he muses, he’s not sure if he’s more thrilled about his parents building a relationship or James building a friendship with Sirius.

Sirius.

It had taken him a while to adjust to this Sirius; a Sirius who was rescued by Arcturus and Melania Black from his mother’s abuse because the family magic had alerted them. This Sirius is everything his own Sirius might have become if he’d been rescued. Harry’s incredibly fond of this Sirius.

And with that thought comes a wash of worry.

Voldemort’s quest for immortality in February had led to the Potter and Black families banding together to hide the Temple of Avalon in the Fae lands. Sirius’ younger sister, Regina, had stayed behind as a Priestess of Avalon to anchor the spell with the only channel out to the real world being the doorway under the Black Lake which only she can use.

Luckily in the past month, they’ve established better lines of communication with the help of Regina’s house elf acting as a messenger between Regina and the rest of the family. Harry had also shared the communication mirrors his Sirius had once invented with the rest of the Marauders, and Hermione had helped Sirius duplicate them. With communication restored, Harry knows Sirius has started to recover from the shock of his sister’s fate.

He feels a familiar pang of guilt about leaving Sirius alone for a week. It is his only true regret at insisting on taking the time away, but Sirius, a sworn Knight of Avalon himself, had been one of the few to insist that they deserved a break. Maybe his role as the fabled Black Knight sworn to protect and assist Harry and Hermione has played into Sirius supporting them, or maybe he genuinely believed that they needed the time away.

Harry sinks inside his magic for a moment and pokes at the family bond. It is amazing to him that he can feel everyone his magic recognises as family.

Sirius feels so much better in the magic than at the end of February, lonely still but better, Harry breathes out a sharp sigh of relief.

Hermione presses their foreheads together in understanding. “Everyone alright?”

Harry lets his magic drift over the others.

James feels gleeful. He’s likely anticipating their return, and the day ahead. He’d joined Sirius in arguing to let Harry and Hermione have a vacation, but Harry can feel that he’s missed them even so.

He’s glad James is supporting Sirius so publicly. After getting injured in a confrontation with Voldemort’s Death Eaters at the centaurs’ village, James had been given the task of being White Knight to Sirius’ Black in his dream visit with Arthur. Harry has seen the way that it has brought the two men together in the brotherhood they should have had, if family magic and Merlin’s shenanigans hadn’t threaded a different path for Sirius.

If James feels gleeful, Lily feels a touch anxious. She had not been supportive of them taking time away from the family.

Harry tries not to be too concerned about Lily’s disapproval. He knows Lily struggles because the Evans’ magic is twisted in some way with his own mother’s magical sacrifice. It has taken weeks for Lily to feel comfortable being apart from Harry for any length of time, and for them to spend a whole week out of each other’s reach is a test of how well her magic has finally settled.

Harry lets himself poke again at the place in his magic where Lily resides and confirms she’s fine despite her simmering anxiety; she’s not in danger or upset and has a hint of flustered amusement which tells Harry she’s likely with James. 

At least, Harry muses, she’s not with Severus Snape. Harry’s relationship with this Snape is civil compared with his past enmity with his own, but Snape is still a deeply unpleasant man, and he’s made his disapproval of James and Lily courting very apparent in recent weeks. Lily has started to feel constantly frustrated and unhappy when in Snape’s company.

He checks in briefly with Charlus, Dorea, and Arcturus and finds them well.

“Everyone is fine,” Harry says.

“Honestly, I’m surprised that everyone followed the directive to leave us alone for the week,” Hermione comments, frowning. “I thought the Ministry was definitely going to ignore it.”

The Ministry has been terrible, Harry considers grimly. In hindsight, he thinks it was a mistake agreeing to form a War Council with them and telling them about Tom Riddle. The Minister, Milicent Bagnold, has tried to insist that she is owed all of Harry and Hermione’s time away from Hogwarts since they are Knights of Avalon. She had actually proposed that they spend their Easter break working from the DOM. Harry is beginning to think she’s worse than Dumbledore in her want to use them.

Harry doesn’t know what to think of this Dumbledore. The Headmaster is as fiercely intelligent as his own, and just as fiercely manipulative. He’d argued for them staying at Hogwarts for the break, especially as Harry and Hermione had acquiesced to stay as the Flying Instructor and the Professor of Arithmancy respectively until the end of the school year.

“Maybe Charlus and Arcturus stepped in,” Harry says.

The two men hold a great deal of power as the Earl of Gryffindor and the Earl of Grimmauld respectively. He knows the reason why they’d argued for the couple staying at Potter Hall had very much been about giving them a shield against the Ministry and Dumbledore.

“Maybe,” Hermione sighs. She drops a kiss on his lips. “I should go and get dressed.”

Harry does a wandless tempus spell and grimaces as the numeral nine hovers above them. “We have an hour yet.”

Hermione rolls her eyes at him. “You’re already dressed and packed. I got distracted reading this morning so I need to do both.”

“Interesting book?” asks Harry.

“It is,” Hermione admits. “It’s on quantum theory.” She pauses. “I’m trying to work out why events are transpiring which are closer to the Second Wizarding War on our world despite the fact that we’re clearly in the First Wizarding War part of the timeline here.”

Harry grimaces. Even with the twisty time oddity, events had unfolded in February very much as they had in their first year of schooling. He hadn’t particularly enjoyed foiling this Voldemort’s attempt to gain immortality by burning the Dark Wizard’s decaying body with his mother’s protection in much the same way as he had once burned Professor Quirrell.

“Any use?” asks Harry, genuinely interested to know if she’d discovered something.

Her nose wrinkles as she bites her lip. “Not much. Unfortunately, I think Sirius’ theory that Fate is intervening is likely right as much as I hate the idea of that since it just means we’re likely to be facing Riddle and danger again.”

“I hate the theory too, but I also think his theory is right,” Harry admits.

They kiss again and Hermione pulls away with an amused huff at his attempt to keep her beside him, rolling off the lounger to amble inside and get ready.

Harry shifts onto his back and stares up at the sky again as he contemplates the day ahead. A part of him wishes that they could stay at the cabin all day before heading back to Hogwarts, but a day with the family had been the compromise when Harry had insisted on the vacation.

And staying at the cabin itself had also been part of the compromise as both Charlus and Arcturus had not been happy at the idea of Harry simply booking himself and Hermione into a seaside bed and breakfast place with Voldemort at large. The Dark Wizard might be disembodied, and potentially still hiding as a cloudy wraith in the bosom of a devout follower, but nobody was discounting the threat he posed.

The cabin had been a great idea, Harry concedes. He and Hermione have had total privacy behind its magical wards. They have a great view of the beach and they’d spent hours walking up and down the coast. The kitchenette has been magically stocked with food transported from Potter Hall’s own kitchens. It has been a great hideaway for them.

It’s been a great honeymoon, Harry thinks wistfully. He and Hermione had been taking their romantic relationship slowly since they’d initially set out to fake their relationship due to the very antiquated views about the virtue of single women. But when they’d shared a New Year’s kiss, they had both realised that they wanted more.

Magic had already considered them married which Harry thinks that was down to his offering Hermione the safety and sanctuary of his House when he gave her the Lady Potter-Black ring as a way to protect her. Both Harry and Hermione have embraced the idea, but they’ve been careful to build the physical side of their relationship at a pace which has let them get to know each other as lovers and not just as loving friends.

There is a surge of irritation suddenly through the Potter family magic before it is quickly shielded.

Either Snape had shown up or the Mischief Makers, Harry surmises, pinpointing the source to James. James is trying with Snape for Lily’s sake, even apologising for his past schoolyard bullying, but their relationship is fractious. Harry knows less about what is going on with the Mischief Makers, the name given to James’ schoolboy friendship group instead of the Marauders. Without Sirius in Gryffindor, the group was James, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin and Bertie Croaker, the son of Ariana Dumbledore who had survived her chaos magic as a child thanks to an available cure – a cure Harry himself has received.

All Harry really knows about the group is that when they had all been at Hogwarts, Remus had lied to James about being attacked by Sirius to hide a relationship with Narcissa Black. It had led the Mischief Makers to target Sirius in their pranking and ultimately James had advised his father not to accept Arcturus’ offer of a rapprochement between the Blacks and the Potters. The werewolf had revealed the truth shortly after Harry and Hermione had arrived. James had apologised to Sirius, committing to build a familial relationship with Sirius in atonement. In the wake of his confession and James’ ire, Remus had gone abroad, but when Bertie Croaker had been injured during the showdown with Voldemort and his Death Eaters in February, the werewolf had returned to England.

Since then, Harry has observed that there has been more pressure on James to spend time with his friends. If Harry had to guess at the problem, he thinks it’s probably a combination of the group hating James getting closer to Sirius who they still view with suspicion, and James struggling to balance his time.

Harry admittedly hasn’t exactly made much of an effort himself with any of the Mischief Makers. He avoids Pettigrew because the man might not be the same rat who betrayed his own family (he’s not even a rat animagus instead he’s a black-footed ferret), but he can’t trust him and has no desire to get to know him. And Croaker…he’s sure the bloke is nice enough, but his familial closeness to Albus Dumbledore makes Harry wary.

Unfortunately, Harry can’t avoid Dumbledore’s other nephew.

Aurelius Dumbledore had taken over as Professor of Astronomy after the incumbent had been found to be an imposter working with Voldemort.  The real Sara Wood resides in Saint Mungo’s, alive but comatose. So far nobody has been able to revive her.

Aurelius is an odd duck, Harry muses. He’s a good Professor and a quiet man who keeps to himself mostly, but Harry can’t help but think he’s up to something. Or maybe Harry is just being paranoid because he doesn’t trust this Dumbledore who has hidden political machinations. He knows Charlus and Arcturus both view Dumbledore with suspicion and Sirius has been trying to infiltrate Dumbledore’s political group for months.

Godric suddenly scrambles to his feet and Harry’s gaze snaps to the grim.

There is an owl approaching the cabin.

A white owl.

The sight of her approach has Harry lurching from the lounger, heart rocketing in his chest.

Hedwig.

It is Hedwig.

He would know her flight anywhere. He makes his way off across the patio as she stoops to land and…

She suddenly evades an elvish hand which appears out of nowhere and tries to grab her.

Harry immobilises the intruder with a wandless spell, reacting immediately to the threat against his owl. He lifts his arm to provide Hedwig with a perch.

Hedwig lands in a flurry of feathers. She looks at him critically as though she’s assessing him.

Harry beams at her, blinking back tears. She is so young; the youngest he has ever seen her. “Hey, Hedwig. It’s good to see you.”

Hedwig shifts and offers him her foot.

Harry unties the letter she’s carrying and gives her bacon.

A muffled thump comes from the cabin steps. The house elf he’d bound is trying to get free of his spell.

He carefully moves Hedwig to the back of a chair. Crookshanks flickers an ear but continues sleeping as Godric pads up to sniff curiously at the bird.

Harry makes his way to the prone elf.

For the second time in minutes, Harry’s heart pounds uncomfortably in shocked recognition. “Dobby?!”

The house elf’s ears snap upward and his large bulbous eyes widen with surprise even as his body remains locked under Harry’s spell. “The Most Honourable Knight of Avalon is knowing Dobby?”

Harry knows better than to unfreeze the elf. He stoops to crouch beside him and carefully lifts Dobby into a standing position. He’s so much younger than Harry has ever seen the elf before.

“Harry, are you…” Hermione stops her advance abruptly. “Dobby?!”

Harry glances over to her. He blatantly admires the way her revealed skin wetly glistens and slightly mourns the towel which covers the rest. Her wet hair drips onto the deck. He belated realises the family magic would have alerted her to Harry’s alarm.

In fact, the family magic is vibrating with concern. He takes a breath, calms his own turmoil, and sends a wave of reassurance through the magic to prevent anyone else appearing at the cabin. He refocuses on Dobby.

“The Honoured Lady Knight of Avalon is also knowing of Dobby?” squeaks Dobby.

Hermione holds the towel around her tightly, her knuckles turning white where she grasps it. “The Dobby we knew on our world helped save our lives.”

“And that is why you’re here,” Harry realises out loud. He facepalms because there really is no other response to Dobby’s appearance. “Damn it!”

“Harry?” questions Hermione briskly. She sits primly on the edge of the lounger, tucking the towel more modestly around her body.

Harry sighs. “Dobby is here to warn me about a possible threat at Hogwarts, aren’t you, Dobby?” He gestures at Hedwig. “Or rather you were trying to steal the portkey to prevent me going back to Hogwarts, but now you’ve been discovered, you’re going to warn me.”

Dobby’s ears are the only part of him which can move and they flutter in response. “Dobby hears of the Knight of Avalon’s bravery. Dobby hears of plotting against him!”

“Oh my God,” Hermione mutters, slapping a hand over her own face. “Second year.” Her hand drops suddenly as her head snaps back up and her eyes seek his out. “The basilisk!” There is a tremor of hysteria in her tone. “How did we forget about the basilisk?”

Harry has a feeling that their forgetting is tied to Fate twisting events to mirror their own world.

Dobby’s big eyes widen. “Master is not mentioning a basilisk just the Bad Thing!” His body shudders even with Harry’s freezing spell and Harry can almost read the urge to punish himself in the elf’s face.

Harry sits down on the lounger. “Dobby, you are a good elf. You haven’t told us anything that we don’t already know.”

Dobby relaxes almost imperceptibly, his ears waggling. “Knights of Avalon are the King’s Chosen.”

Harry nods. “Dobby, I need to ask you a very important question and I need you to answer me truthfully.”

Dobby blinks.

“Does your Master’s plan involve a diary?” Harry asks, shaping his hands to demonstrate the size. “About this big?”

Dobby’s ears flap wildly with agitation. “Master gives away a hidden treasure which will free the monster. Dobby does not know what it is.”

Harry sighs. “Dobby, I’m going to remove the spell keeping you here, but you have to promise not to get involved in this any further. I appreciate you trying to help, but this involves Fate.”

Dobby almost flinches at that. “Fate?”

“Fate has chosen me to face Tom Riddle,” Harry says. “If you try and interfere…”

“Elvsies know the power of Fate,” Dobby grimaces. “Dobby promises not to interfere.”

“And I promise to try and free you from your family,” Harry says. A lump appears in his throat cutting off the rest of the words he wants to say.

Hermione takes his hand, tangling their fingers together. Harry waves his free hand releasing the spell.

Dobby falls into a deep bow and pops away. In his wake a stack of rolled up parchments appear. Apparently, Dobby had been stealing their mail every day of their holiday. The Ministry seal gives away who had tried to contact them the most. Harry is tempted to set fire to the pile.

Hermione sighs and leans into Harry. He leans back into her. His gaze flickers to Hedwig.

Hermione gasps. “Oh Harry, is that…?”

“Hedwig,” Harry says. “She brought the portkey.”

Hermione squeezes his fingers lightly and sighs. “I’d better finish getting ready then.” She kisses him before she heads back inside.

Godric pads over and Harry accepts the grim’s doggy comfort. He looks out to the beach beyond the cabin and wonders how many other returning ghosts he’ll have to face again.

He sighs. At least he knows of two more: Myrtle and the bloody basilisk hiding in Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets.

Chapter 2: Family Gathering

“What do you mean there is a basilisk at Hogwarts?!”

His grandfather’s incredulous tone makes Harry wince. He scans around the large drawing room which feels crammed with people for all its size since the entire family is present.

Harry and Hermione had arrived back to a lot of fanfare and they’d agreed to leave bringing the others up to date until after the wonderful lunch Dorea had organised with the Potter elves for them.

Charlus stands by the mantle, the port glass balanced steadily in his hand despite the shock which has him staring wide-eyed at Harry. Charlus’ Potter hair is greying ever so slightly at the temples and there are fine lines of aging creasing his eyes and mouth. He feels like a steady rock in the family magic; a stalwart reliable soul upon which to lean.

There is a smouldering fire in the hearth behind the gold guard, providing just enough warmth to heat the draughty room. Godric and Crookshanks are curled up on the rug just by his grandfather’s feet. Hedwig had also returned with them but she is perched on a stand gazing out of the window. Harry still can’t believe she’s there.

“Perhaps we should all take a breath,” Dorea states briskly from the chair closest to the fire and her husband. The matriarch of the Potter family is as sleekly dark-haired as any Black and her silver eyes snap out a warning to the others who are muttering.

“I believe that would be a good idea,” Arcturus asserts, looking every inch the noble Lord Black as he adjusts the cuff on his day robe. He has the second chair by the fire. He shoots a questioning glance at his completely chagrined grandson. “I’m not sure why we didn’t already know about this since your oaths to the War Council definitely allow you to share information with family.”

Sirius raises his coffee cup as he turns to his grandfather. He had chosen to take the empty sofa seat on Harry’s left. For once he looks like a tired Professor rather than an aristocrat leaving Harry to wonder at what Sirius had been up to while they’d been away. Maybe he’d finally gotten somewhere in his spying quest to wrangle his way into Dumbledore’s inner political group.

“I don’t why I didn’t remember to tell you about Harry’s second year adventure,” Sirius says with more bluntness than his usual style of speaking.

“Me either,” James gestures at his father with one hand as the other tugs at the same messy hair as Harry’s. “As soon as Harry started talking, I remembered but until then…” he shakes his head.

Lily snorts inelegantly. She’s tucked up beside James on the two-seater sofa across from Harry and Hermione. She has eschewed wizarding robes for a pretty muggle dress. “It feels deliberate, like a Fidelius. Harry and Hermione didn’t remember; nobody they told remembers.”

“Fate has no need of spells,” Dorea comments dryly, picking up her tea. “We know from what happened last term with Riddle that Fate is driving events to mimic Harry’s experience on his world.” 

“I’m pretty certain Dumbledore took an action to investigate the Chamber and deal with the basilisk if there was one after the meeting where Harry went through the events on his world,” James says, tapping his fingers against his glass of whiskey.

Sirius nods. “That’s my recollection.”

Hermione huffs out a breath. “I’m going to theorise he hasn’t done that.”

“If his experience mirrors ours then he will have forgotten all about it,” Sirius points out. “I think we would all have clocked him doing something if he had dealt with the basilisk. I doubt he would have allowed his dealing with the danger to go unacknowledged.”

James nods. “So, we’re theorising that everyone in the meeting where we discussed Riddle doesn’t recall the actual detail of Harry’s account of his fight against him on his world; only the conclusion that it is Riddle, he’s a problem, Harry ended him in his world, and we all need to deal with him in this one.”

“Succinctly summarised, but accurate,” Charlus comments dryly. “I’d add to your summary that these details were obscured before you were able to impart them to others.” He raises his port glass a touch. “Neither you nor Sirius actually informed myself or Arcturus.”

James grimaces. “Bloody Fate!”

“Well, I think we may also have another complication,” Hermione says, musingly.

Harry turns to look at her quizzically. “You mean our elven visitor?”

“No,” Hermione shakes her head, “I mean, we can’t really be certain that the monster in the Chamber of Secrets is a basilisk. Myrtle Warren died in the bathroom as she did on our world so I just assumed that the cause was the same; that Riddle just tried to cover it up in a different way.”

“You think it could be something else?” Lily frowns. “Is that likely?”

Hermione shrugs. “Last term events played out close to how they did in our first year of schooling on our world, but not the same. In both our worlds, Voldemort targeted the unicorns to stay alive, but here he needed them for a ritual whereas he was simply drinking their blood in ours. He possessed a professor but here he was trapped in his own declining body until the end battle.” She taps her fingers against the side of her cup, staring into the distance. “In both, we had to get through a series of traps before Harry burned Voldemort’s decaying vessel, but the situations were very different.”

“So, there could be a monster, but it might not be a basilisk,” Harry concludes.

Hermione nods. “We have no way of knowing unless we go down to the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Which we can’t because I’m not a parselmouth and I don’t have the connection to Riddle I had on our world,” Harry says. He is certain that he’d had that same conversation with Dumbledore before the older wizard had taken the action to deal with the basilisk.

“It is unlikely the diary or journal or whatever item Dobby saw his master give away is a horcrux either given that he didn’t go that route for immortality here,” Hermione continues. “It may not be a diary. We should assume similar events will play out but not the exact same scenario.”

“Well, if I don’t have to face a basilisk again, I’m fine with that,” Harry says cheerfully, raising his cup in a silent toast.

Hermione rolls her eyes at him. “Knowing your luck, it’ll end up being something much worse.”

“Let’s not go there,” Lily asserts briskly. “I’m rather hopeful that nobody will need to face a basilisk.”

“Perhaps,” Charlus says, “we should go back to the beginning. What did happen in your second year at Hogwarts, Harry?”

“Well, it began in the summer before, really,” Harry notes. “Dobby, the Malfoy’s elf in my world, stole my mail and only revealed himself to insist that I couldn’t return to Hogwarts because I was in danger from the plot his master had cooked up.”

“Dobby is the Malfoy’s elf here too,” Sirius says. “Are you saying that Lord Malfoy has cooked up this plot?”

“The timing is different. Abraxas is still alive here,” Hermione says. “He died towards the end of the first wizarding war and Lucius was Lord Malfoy when we were at school.”

“So maybe that’s the first thing which is similar while being different,” James says brightly. “A Malfoy is behind the plot and danger but not the one you had to deal with. It also makes sense that he might try something against Dumbledore and Hogwarts; he was furious about what happened with Sylvestre and completely supported Gaius’ decision to have him finish his schooling at Durmstrang.”

Harry shuddered at the memory of the young third year student frozen as a statue under the Medusa curse. Sylvestre Malfoy had been kidnapped along with Bill Weasley by Voldermort’s conspirator as a distraction during the dark wizard’s attempt to capture a unicorn mare. He wondered who Abraxas blamed the most for it; Voldemort or Dumbledore?

“The elf still stole your mail,” Dorea comments. “It is highly unusual for an elf to fight against his master’s strictures or be able to operate to act in defiance of their intent.”

“Dobby is an unusual elf,” Hermione answers dryly.

“Our Dobby sacrificed his life to save us,” Harry adds. “Dobby hates being bonded with the Malfoys.”

“A toxic bond then,” Charlus says.

“They’re rare but they happen,” Arcturus nods. “Normally the relationship is very symbiotic.”

Hermione frowns but stays silent. Harry knows for all she’s accepted the magical truth that bonds provide magical stability for the elves and that most treat the elves as part of their family, she still hates the concept of a magical creature being bound in service. She still considers it a form of slavery.

“Anyway,” Harry hurries out, “I ended up staying with the Weasleys for the last few weeks of the summer. When we went shopping for supplies in Diagon Alley, Lucius Malfoy planted Riddle’s diary into Ginny’s basket.”

“And we know the diary was his first horcrux on your world,” James murmurs.

“So,” Sirius says thoughtfully, “we know from the elf’s visit to you that there may be some kind of artefact which has also been given to someone at the school which is likely to trigger whatever plot this is.”

“Ginny wrote in the diary not realising the danger; the more she wrote, the more power the fragment of Riddle drew from her,” Harry said. “He took her over, opened the Chamber and let the basilisk out to terrorise the school. He targeted muggleborns. Luckily the basilisk petrified students rather than killing them.” He reaches for Hermione’s hand and she slides hers into his, squeezing gently.

“My petrification was not down to luck,” Hermione teases gently. She turns back to the group. “I was one of the last to be petrified because I had worked it out and was using a mirror to look around corners.”

“Riddle had almost achieved his goal in taking Ginny’s magic and becoming corporeal again when he left a message saying he’d taken her,” Harry says. “Malfoy had managed to get Dumbledore removed from the school so Ron and I went to find Ginny with the Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Lockhart.”

“Gilderoy Lockhart?” James exclaims. “He could barely do a spell at school!”

Hermione wrinkles her nose. “He steals other people’s accomplishments, writes books about them, and makes them forget. He’s a thief and a charlatan.”

James stares at her. “I remember you saying that at the meeting. Scrimgeour was going to investigate.” He sighs heavily. “How likely is it that nothing has been done?”

Harry smiles at him sympathetically.

Dorea coughs. “You went with Lockhart to find this girl Ginny?”

“Lockhart tried to cast a spell so Ron and I would forget what we were doing,” Harry recounts, “only the spell misfired due to Ron’s wonky wand and the tunnel caved in. Ron was on one side and I was on the other. I kept going.”

Charlus sighs. “If Fate is trying to recreate events, then you’ll end up alone fighting Riddle again. Perhaps not the wraith of last term, but whatever imprint exists in the artefact.”

“And he’ll set whatever monster he controls on killing me,” Harry sighs. “Our best bet is to find the diary or whatever it is and stop it before it ever gets to that point.”

“Well, that’s our mission then when we return to the school,” Lily says determinedly, a fiercely protective glint in her eye.

“And we plan for the worst,” Sirius says grimly. “We should try to eliminate whatever is lurking in the Chamber.”

“We should probably bring Dumbledore back in the loop,” Hermoine says. “I remember now that he seemed adamant about tackling the basilisk issue himself.”

Charlus and Arcturus exchange a lightning quick glance.

“For all his political machinations, he is a powerful wizard more than capable of taking care of any kind of monster,” Charlus sighs.

“It is also his responsibility to ensure the safety of the students,” Arcturus agrees.

“Right,” Sirius says with a hint of a smile, “one uncomfortable meeting with Dumbledore coming up.”

Harry ducks his head to hide his amusement. There are definitely moments when Sirius reminds him of his Sirius.

“Speaking of Dumbledore,” Charlus says, “I see he did refrain from contacting you. None of the mail we sorted from the stolen stack you gave me came from him.”

Harry nods slowly. “Ministry mostly, right?”

“I’ll be discussing the lack of respect in adhering with your wishes with Millicent,” Charlus confirms. He frowns down at his port. “I can’t believe how much mail they sent.”

“To be fair, I think the update on the work about the universe-travelling spell wasn’t sent to disturb us,” Hermione says. “Director Bell has been sending me periodic updates since I originally contacted her.”

“What was the update if you don’t mind my asking?” Lily asks, setting her cup on a side table.

Hermione gave a short sigh. “It’s all going very slowly. She sent me the latest bit they’ve managed to decipher. The spell would only work if I was in proximity to Harry.”

“Because he was the primary target,” Sirius states crisply.

“And Hermione was the bait,” Lily adds. “They counted on him coming after you.”

“He’s terribly predictable that way.” Hermione smiles as she glances in Harry’s direction.

“Like you wouldn’t have followed me if the positions were reversed,” Harry points out, smiling.

“Maybe we can work on the spell in the evenings,” Lily suggests.

“I’d like that,” Hermione says. “But I think the priority is doing some thinking about our actual mission here.”

“The Evil Harry is meant to defeat?” Charlus nods, his brow creasing as he downs the last of the port.  “What do we know about it?”

“Not much,” Hermione admits, chagrined. “We’ve done a lot of research about the Knights of Avalon, their missions, and so on to try to get some kind of understanding about this whole thing. We’ve looked into current affairs and issues, but there’s nothing which screams Really Big Evil.”

“Perhaps you’re overthinking it,” Dorea suggests kindly.

“Are we absolutely certain it isn’t Riddle?” asks Arcturus.

Harry nods. “Arthur said Riddle was part of it but not it.”

“The rise of discontent and dark wizardry,” Charlus muses out loud. “There has always been an undercurrent of wizards and witches who have ideologies out of synch with rational thinking.”

“Riddle is one cohort of that type of thinking,” Hermione says crisply. “He’s gained power by appealing to those who value blood purity over everything else. He’s stoked their hatred of those born outside of fully magical bloodlines, confirmed their feelings of superiority, and has them doing his every whim on the promise of a wizarding world where they rule over the rest of us.”

James clears his throat. “Maybe the Evil is in one of the other fanatical groups?”

“Like Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix?” Sirius tilts his head. “They are radicalised to believe in Dumbledore and his vision of the ‘greater good.’”

“Still no luck getting into the inner circle?” asks Harry.

Sirius shakes his head. “There was a meeting over the break but nothing different to what I’ve attended before, just a big group gathering where we all listen to Dumbledore talk about his political agenda which seems on the surface to be all on the up, if distasteful in respect of actual policy. I’m beginning to think he won’t ever ask me to join his small group of confidantes. I don’t think he’ll ever truly trust me to that extent.”

“Who are his inner confidantes?” asks Harry, thinking back to the picture Moody had once shown him of the Order in the first wizarding war.

“I take it that you’re already observing a difference?” asks Sirius, arching an eyebrow in Harry’s direction.

Harry shrugs. “I’m not sure. I would say our Dumbledore’s inner circle was Severus Snape, Professor McGonagall, Moody, and the Weasleys.”

Hermione nods. “It’s clear that isn’t quite the case here.”

Lily hums. “Sev and I have had a lot of disagreements about Dumbledore recently. He’s very loyal to him. He has said that even if Dumbledore insisted, he would never do anything just jeopardise our friendship, but I can’t help feeling that just means that he’s doing other things where he’s not concerned about the fallout.”

“I think Dumbledore’s using Snape,” James admits, grimacing. “The same way I think he’s using Remus. They’re not inner circle so much as they’re useful to him – tools more than anything else.”

“They are cultivated relationships where they both owe him something,” Arcturus notes.

“The Weasleys are very devoted followers,” Dorea muses. She sets her cup aside and steeples her fingers under her chin as she thinks. “Molly more so than Arthur, but they are both very loyal to him.”

“The Weasleys are definitely inner circle,” Sirius confirms. “They’re at every meeting. They’re often the first there and usually remain when the rest of us leave. When Molly was heavily pregnant, she was still the last there!”

Harry shivers.

Ronald Weasley was born on schedule at the beginning of March. For a moment Harry misses his old friend so much that he cannot breathe. Hermione squeezes his hand gently bringing him back to the discussion.

“Albus’ brother is a constant too,” Sirius continues, “but I’ve never seen Ariana, Moody or Minerva there.”

Harry pushes his glasses up his nose. “Remind me again what Dumbledore’s political stance is here.”

“Magical protectionism from the muggle world,” Hermione says before Sirius can answer the question. “He advocates for the strictest secrecy and separation. His father Percival spearheaded the movement as Chief Warlock after the attack on Ariana.”

“Ariana is not part of the movement,” Sirius says. “She rarely speaks about her attack, but she has expressed dismay to me about how her father and Albus have used it politically. They’re not particularly close for all that they’re brother and sister.”

“They were closer when they were younger,” Dorea comments. “He did step in to support her with Bertie.”

“Is Bertie part of the movement?” asks Charlus, looking towards James.

James’ lips twist as he considers the question. “He’s never said anything to me if he is, and I don’t believe he’s recruited Peter or Remus to it. We’ve often gone for pints in muggle London.”

“I’ve never seen him at the meetings,” Sirius confirms.

“What about his other nephew?” Hermione asks. “Aurelius Dumbledore was a bit of a surprise to us.”

“He wasn’t educated at Hogwarts,” James confirms.

“There were rumours Aberforth had an illegitimate son for years but nothing was ever confirmed officially,” Dorea states.

Hermione shifts beside Harry and he knows from the tiny line between her brows that she’s deep in thought. “I read somewhere that Albus found Aurelius when he was supposedly in the service of Grindelwald, but I don’t think that adds up given he’s quite young.”

“Although he doesn’t look like it, he’s older than us by some margin,” Sirius says.

“I investigated when he was appointed at Hogwarts. Aurelius was born when Aberforth was sixteen,” Arcturus chimes in. “Aberforth claimed the mother had drugged him. Percival arranged for the boy and his mother to be sent abroad to France. He was raised there. It was the mother who got entangled with Grindelwald. She was one of his most faithful lieutenants until she died. Albus was in France at the time and took custody. Some say Albus only killed Grindelwald to save him from absconding with his young nephew. Aurelius continued to be raised in France by the Flamels as a favour for Albus.”

“Interesting,” Dorea hums, frowning. “Honestly, while most of us knew of the rumours, none of us fully believed he existed until now. He is the forgotten Dumbledore.”

“It is more than likely that he is in Dumbledore’s inner circle,” Sirius says consideringly. “Grindelwald’s schtick was that wizards should take over and subjugate muggles under our rule. Dumbledore’s not that extreme, at least publicly, but he definitely believes we should protect ourselves against muggles, and being actively involved in governing them would be a way to do that. It’s part of his manifesto.”

“We should probably do some research into fringe groups,” Hermione offers contemplatively. “Maybe the Evil we’re meant to tackle is someone still championing Grindelwald’s old beliefs.”

James clears his throat as he raises his hand. “I can help with that. Let me do some digging into the Ministry records. I might find something.”

“Just don’t alert the Ministry to our actual mission,” Harry says quickly. “I’d rather they focused on Riddle.”

Charlus hums. “It’s interesting that you feel so strongly against having them involved.”

Arcturus raises his eyebrows. “That is a good point.” He gestures towards Harry. “Maybe your instincts are onto something with that.”

“Or more likely we’re just incredibly jaded by the fact that the Ministry was very corrupt on our world,” Hermione points out dryly.

“I’d like to think that there isn’t that much corruption in our corridors of power, but I’m not unaware that there is a streak of it,” Charlus says sadly.

“We can do some digging on that when we go to ream Millicent out on all the mail they sent to Harry and Hermione despite our wishes being clear that they should leave them alone,” Arcturus suggests.

Harry sighs. “Just be careful.”

The older wizards nod their agreement, but Harry can’t help worry about them stirring up a hornet’s nest.

“At least we have a few new avenues to explore about this Evil we were brought here to fight,” Hermione says.

Harry nods. “Is there any news on the search for Riddle?”

“He’s gone to ground,” James says tersely. “Moody thinks he probably headed abroad.”

“Bellatrix declared that her husband was killed in an accident on their Belgian estate,” Sirius says quietly. “Rodolphus Lestrange is definitely dead.”

He had been the only Death Eater they had been able to unmask.

“We also know one of the group had their arm severed in the final battle, but so far no-one has turned up missing an arm or gone mysteriously missing entirely,” James says, disappointed.

“Sara Wood is still in a coma,” Lily adds. “She may never recover.”

Hermione sighs. “I doubt she would be able to help us even if she wakes. It’s clear that they targeted her to get into Hogwarts. I suspect she was ambushed in some way.”

“That’s the current theory,” James agrees. For a moment, he looks weary. “All of the leads we had on Riddle are dead ends.”

“If events are following how things went in our previous world, we won’t be able to find Riddle any time soon,” Hermione bites her lip. “This next fight is likely to be some kind of fight against a facsimile of him, a shade or an imprint. It won’t be another direct fight for a long while if plays out the same.”

Harry knows she’s right. After the confrontation with Voldemort’s wraith form at the end of his first year, he’d only encountered him again face to face in the Little Hangleton cemetery when Voldemort had kidnapped him from the Tri-Wizard tournament.

“I think we’re going to struggle to make headway on this big Evil until Riddle is dealt with,” Harry thinks out loud.

“I think so too,” Hermione says. “But it looks like we’re not having to wait a whole year between events this time.”

“That is not a comforting thought, for the record,” James mutters.

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s better we get it over with.”

The clock chimes four times.

He wonders how quickly the day and the afternoon has disappeared.

“We should be making our way back to Hogwarts,” Sirius says. “The Headmaster is expecting us back for a staff meeting he’s called before dinner.”

Lily rolls her eyes, but she is already rising from the sofa. “I’ll need to change.”

James rises with her. “I’ll see you through the Floo.”

They all look indulgently on as the new couple take their leave.

Dorea’s eyes are sparkling as she picks her cup back up in the wake of their departure. “Maybe I should start planning a wedding.”

Charlus chuckles. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. They’ve only just started dating.”

“Ah, yes, but we know that they make beautiful babies,” Dorea returns, smirking.

Harry feels heat rise in his cheeks as Hermione laughs beside him.

Sirius smiles as he gets to his feet. “We should really head back too.”

“Yes,” Hermione says with a sigh.

Harry nudges her gently. “At least we’ll have the opportunity to remind Dumbledore about the basilisk once we’re done with the staff meeting.”

“There’s that,” Hermione agrees, pushing a straggling tendril of hair from her updo back behind her ear.

Arcturus motions at Sirius who pauses at the gesture from his grandfather. “I think we should focus on helping Harry with his mission. You should step back from this Order business.”

Sirius looks momentarily taken aback but his expression settles almost immediately into his usual neutrality.

Harry puts it down the years of aristocratic training he’s received. He knows his own reactions are far too often written across his face like a waving red banner.

“If that is your wish, Grandfather,” Sirius demurs. “I can’t help think it would help to have an inside man still.”

“But perhaps one that is not you,” Charlus walks across to stand beside Arcturus. “As you say, he’s unlikely to trust you. We can look at alternatives.”

“What about Remus?” Hermione suggests. “Isn’t he already trusted by him?”

Dorea rises to hug them. “It’s a good idea. We’ll pick it up with James and see what he thinks.”

Sirius tilts his head. “I can’t say I’ll miss going to those interminable meetings.” He pauses. “Molly’s cake on the other hand…”

They all chuckle.

There is a flurry of goodbyes as they take their leave and make their way to the Floo room where James stands in front of the hearth looking into the green flames sappily.

Harry wonders with a little horror if he looks as besotted when he looks at Hermione. Probably.

“Lily get through alright?” asks Sirius teasingly.

James startles as he realises that they’ve joined him in the room. He flushes red and adjusts his glasses before he regains his usual swagger. “She did.”

“You heading back to your place or staying here tonight?” asks Harry.

“Heading back,” James says promptly. “I promised Peter that I’d go to the pub with him and the others tonight.”

Sirius nods. “Try to stay out of mischief.”

James grins as he pokes Sirius in the arm. “Funny.”

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius shoots back.

Harry turns away from the banter, his breath catching in his throat. He can so clearly imagine how his own father and Sirius might have joked with each other the same way. Hermione’s fingers tighten around his, grounding him.

Hedwig hoots and lands on Harry’s shoulder, her head chuffing his for a long moment before she launches herself towards the window which obligingly opens to let her out.

Harry lets go of Hermione so she can pick up Crookshanks. He grasps Godric’s collar firmly.

“I’ll see you next weekend for the usual Sunday dinner,” James promises.

The Floo flares up as Hermione throws in the powder and calls out the name of their quarters’ Floo in Hogwarts.

Harry follows his wife. He gets clear of the fire on the other side to give Sirius space to come through.

Sirius manages to make exiting the Floo look effortless and graceful. Harry considers his own stumbling form and sighs. Maybe he should ask Sirius for tips.

“I’m going to give Regina a quick call,” Sirius says, already moving towards the stairs and his room.

“Tell her we said hello and give her our love,” Hermione calls out as she sets Crookshanks down on the rug.

Sirius gives her a wave of acknowledgement.

Hermione moves forward and Harry opens his arms as she cuddles into him. They’re back at Hogwarts and he can’t help feeling a sense of dread at what is to come.

“We’ll be OK,” Hermione says quietly. “Whatever happens we’ll face it together.” Harry kisses her softly. “Together.”

Chapter 3: The Missing Ghost

“What do you mean there is a basilisk at Hogwarts?!”

Harry would be amused at the similarity of Dumbledore’s reaction to his grandfather’s if the topic wasn’t so serious.

Dumbledore’s brow creases and his hand flies up to his head as though he’s in pain, a sign that the memory is returning to him. He slumps back in the large thronelike chair behind his desk.

The Headmaster’s office is not the familiar cluttered space which had been their Dumbledore’s domain. Here the bookshelves are very organised and the desk clear of bowls of lemon drops. It feels less magical.

Dumbledore himself looks less magical. His robes are plain black teaching robes with no eccentric embellishment. He is not as old as Harry’s Dumbledore. There are no glasses permanently perched on his nose, his hair and beard are trimmed short and are greying rather than white. He is less mad old professor and more sharply intelligent elder.

At least there is one common element as Fawkes sleeps on a stand over by the window.

“We think Fate has obscured the specific events about our fight with our Voldemort,” Hermione says crisply from her seat beside Harry. She folds her hands primly into her lap looking every inch a respectable Hogwarts Professor of Arithmancy.

Sirius clears his throat. He’d eschewed a chair, standing over by the window. “Neither James nor I remembered until Harry and Hermione reminded us about it after lunch today.”

“It might not be a basilisk here,” Hermione states firmly. She quickly explains her theory of similarities and differences to the disgruntled Headmaster.

Dumbledore huffs. “Why didn’t you tell me about the basilisk when I offered you positions here?”

“Fate?” Harry tries not to squirm under Dumbledore’s furious glare. He lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Honestly, we were so confused about being here at all and…” he shrugs. “Both Hermione and I remember thinking at various times to mention the basilisk but then…” he gestures awkwardly because what else can he say.

Dumbledore presses his lips together as he levels his blue unhappy gaze in Harry’s direction. “I very much dislike the idea that Fate is working to hide a danger to this school and its children.”

“We all dislike it, Albus,” Sirius asserts firmly, “but it’s hardly Harry’s fault that Fate is playing games with us all.”

Dumbledore concedes with a short tilt of his head. His glance at Harry has a shade of apology. He clasps his hands on his desk and leans forward. “In my memory of our past conversation, you said that the entry to Slytherin’s Chamber was through a girls’ bathroom on the second floor?”

Harry nods. “Weird, I know. I always assumed it might have been part of a private bathroom and then the girls’ bathroom got built around it.”

“Perhaps, the second floor used to be Slytherin’s teaching domain when he taught,” Dumbledore explains in a lecturing tone which sets Harry’s teeth on edge. “Seventh floor was Ravenclaw’s, third was Gryffindor’s, and the grounds were all Hufflepuff’s. The dungeon, fourth and fifth floors were common areas or used by other teachers.”

Hermione frowns. “There is no record of that in any of the history books I’ve read.”

“There wouldn’t be,” Sirius says, “the only records are in the Founder’s own diaries and they are kept in the Headmaster’s private library and only available to the Headmaster.” He smiles at Hermione’s pout. “I was disappointed to learn about the restriction myself.”

“Become Headmaster and you can have all the access you wish,” remarks Dumbledore dryly. “The diaries are much less interesting than you think and there is definitely no mention of a basilisk. They barely make mention of their domains. I recall that Slytherin alludes to a private chamber but I cannot remember the details.” He sighs. “I shall have to reread them to see if I can gain a better insight – that was going to be my starting plan of action when you originally informed the Council the last time.”

Harry frowns. Sirius had been the one to share with them that the Founders had been Knights of Avalon themselves. He can’t believe their personal journals wouldn’t have revealed something of their mission, but he believes Dumbledore’s take on the diaries is genuine. Maybe they didn’t record their thoughts as Knights of Avalon because of the need for secrecy. Merlin knew he and Hermione had chosen to share very little with anyone outside of the family. And maybe his grandmother was right to wonder if that instinct was driven by some kind of intuition about the danger.

“The problem is that we need to speak parseltongue to get through the entrance way,” Harry says out loud.

“Ron managed to mimic the hiss you did,” Hermione recalls, “but I think that was sheer luck.”

Dumbledore hums. “If we transferred your memory to a pensieve, we could record it.”

“Why haven’t I ever thought of that?” asks Hermione crossly.

“Electronics don’t work around magic in our world,” Harry reminds her. “It’s a good idea.”

“Well, no time like the present,” Dumbledore says briskly. He opens the bottom drawer of his desk and takes out a pensieve. “Perhaps if you could share the whole memory of your experience, it will help us devise a plan for dealing with the beast.”

Harry grimaces but he dutifully closes his eyes and points his wand at his temple. He slowly copies out the memory of finding the entrance, of sliding down and Lockhart’s betrayal, of the Chamber and the awful confrontation with Riddle and the basilisk. He drops it into the pensieve’s shiny gold basin.

Sirius walks over to join them at the desk as they stand. “Do you mind if I join you?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m not particularly enthused at any of us watching it, but Albus is right, it could help us plan.”

“Shall we?” asks Dumbledore cheerily, waving a small memo recorder at them. “I’m ready.”

Somehow Harry is not surprised that the opportunity to witness the memory has helped Dumbledore move past his ire at Fate’s interference.

Hermione takes Harry’s hand as they all stick a finger into the memory and find themselves in Myrtle’s bathroom.

Sirius snorts at the sight of Lockhart. “I see yours is just as much of a peacock as ours.”

Harry nods. He looks over at Dumbledore who watches the action avidly as Memory Harry hisses at the marked pipe. Had he really been that small?

“Extraordinary,” Dumbledore murmurs as the pipe opens up the wall behind and the entrance appears.

Harry wishes he had stayed out of the memory as they continue to follow the unfolding events.

Dumbledore’s eyes narrow as they watch Riddle taunting Harry. When the basilisk appears, Hermione gasps and clutches his hand tightly. Sirius looks positively sick when Harry gets bitten.

By the time they leave the memory, Harry is exhausted and wants nothing more than the day to be over and for him to find his bed.

“We have much to think on,” Dumbledore sits down heavily in his chair. “Tomorrow after dinner, the four of us will go into the Chamber and deal with the basilisk; that will remove the threat of it from the school and any plot which has been devised to use it.”

“Just the four of us?” Hermione checks.

“We are rather prohibited from telling anyone else about it since our original conversation decreed that it was a secret of the Council,” Dumbledore points out sharply.

“Except our vows allow for telling family,” Hermione says.

“She’s right,” Sirius says. “And our families are in the know about this since Harry and Hermione told us after their visit from the house elf about the threat.”

Dumbledore goes back to looking disgruntled.

“We could ask James to join us at least,” Harry suggests. “He’s an Auror so has training.”

“The others could act more like back-up,” Hermione adds. “We could ask Lily to inform Minerva and the other Professors? She’s not bound by the vows to the Council and is in the know.”

Dumbledore sits back and regards them with raised eyebrows. “I know you all have dispensation to talk about the Council business with your families, but I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that this is an example of how that can lead to appalling operational security.”

“Point taken, Albus,” Sirius says, “but in this instance it is useful, yes? We should inform Minerva at the very least.”

“Agreed and perhaps the other Heads of Houses,” Dumbledore says with a sigh. He glances towards the clock. “It’s late. Let us reconvene tomorrow after dinner. Perhaps we do not need to involve Lily in informing people if we can simply reuse your memory, Harry?”

Harry sighs. “So long as I don’t have to watch it myself again.”

Dumbledore inclines his head.

They take their leave and make their way back to their own quarters in silence. The living area is empty except for Godric and Crookshanks curled up on the rug. Hedwig sleeps on her new perch. Harry gives into the urge to head across the room and stroke her feathers again.

Sirius wishes them a quiet goodnight and heads up the stairs.

They’re not long after him. The start of the day in the cabin feels like it happened a year ago and Harry wishes for the peace of the beach and the waves as he follows his usual bedtime routine.

He and Hermione snuggle together in the centre of the bed, their arms wrapped around each other.

Hermione sighs quietly into the darkness. “I never knew it was like that.”

“What?” asks Harry.

“The chamber,” Hermione explains softly, “everything you went through to rescue Ginny. I mean, I know you told us afterwards and I saw the corpse of the snake when Ron and I went to get the fang but…”

Harry draws her closer and she burrows into his side.

“It was so scary,” Hermione’s voice is soft and low it is almost a whisper, “and you were so young, Harry.” She pressed into him. “You almost died!”

Harry rubbed her arm soothingly. “I can’t say I enjoyed seeing it all again, but it was a long time ago. I survived. Ginny survived. You survived. That’s all that really matters.” He sighs. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to meeting another basilisk tomorrow.”

Hermione’s arm tightens around his waist. “I’m still not certain it is a basilisk, and even if we do take care of it tomorrow, but it doesn’t solve the other part of the problem.”

“The diary,” Harry says. He slaps his free hand over his eyes. How could he have forgotten about the diary!

“Someone in this castle is running around with whatever book or artefact this Voldemort created as his attempt at being immortal,” Hermione continues. “Maybe it’s another first year…”

“Or a Weasley,” Harry interjects. “I can’t imagine that this Lord Malfoy would pass up the opportunity to hurt them anymore than Lucius did.”

“We should check on Charlie and Bill tomorrow,” Hermione agrees. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Not being close to the Weasleys here.”

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs.

Although if he considers the reality of their relationship with the Weasleys on their world, they had been drifting slowly apart. Their lives in the muggle world and the end of any romance with their respective love interests had created a distance. Harry misses Ron but he knows he misses the idea of Ron more in some respects, the memory of the close friendship they’d shared at Hogwarts rather than the bumpy friendship of the past couple of years.

“We can’t exactly trust Molly and Arthur if they’re in Dumbledore’s inner circle,” Hermione says quietly, her fingers twisting into the t-shirt he’s worn to bed.

“I know,” Harry agrees. “Maybe they’re good people, but even our Weasleys were always slightly bigoted in their own way about muggles so it’s not entirely a surprise that these Weasleys would go along with this Dumbledore’s muggle agenda.”

Hermione snorts. “Slightly bigoted? Molly and Arthur were absolutely terrible with my parents. They used to treat them like strange animals they’d come across in the wild! Ron was never much better.”

“That’s how my Aunt used to treat Mrs Singh down the road,” Harry says thoughtfully.

“Bill and Charlie seem like themselves though, don’t they?” Hermione says. “I mean, younger smaller version of the ones we knew back home, but they seem the same personality wise.”

“I think so,” Harry agrees as he thinks about his interactions with the two Weasleys at Hogwarts.

“And Merlin, Ginny isn’t even born and Ron is a baby!” Hermione says. “He’s barely a month old!”

This Ron, Harry thinks sadly, is never going to be friends with a Hermione Granger or a Harry Potter when he gets to school. Maybe he’ll end up best friends with Neville instead.

Harry squeezes Hermione gently. “Come on. We should get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow checking nobody has become possessed by Voldemort.”

Hermione chuckles humourlessly. “You jest but…”

Harry smiles and drops a kiss on top of her head. He closes his eyes and between one thought and another, he falls into sleep.

He wakes up to an empty bed and the feeling that he could sleep for another week. He hears the shower running in the bathroom and goes to join his wife.

The day slips away into the regularity of the school timetable.

Harry enjoys being the Flying Instructor. He thinks he might want to stay in teaching once Riddle is vanquished again and his mission for King Arthur is over. Back on his own world, he’d planned to go into social work, to help children who were in danger. There is still a part of him who wants that, but he loves seeing the kids progress their skills and helping them find their feet at school. He has no doubt that he might end up helping a neglected or abused child in time in his teacher role.

It’s a thought for another day, Harry thinks tiredly as he follows Lily and Hermione up the stairs to Dumbledore’s office, Sirius beside him. He doubts his family will be happy if he decides to stay on at Hogwarts past his and Hermione’s current commitment to see out the school year, but it is his decision – just not one he needs to make that night, and probably one he should discuss with Hermione.

He’s not surprised when he enters to find Snape lurking behind Dumbledore. Sirius glances over at Harry and rolls his eyes expressively.

Thankfully, Snape is not the only back-up Dumbledore has deemed appropriate to their basilisk adventure; the Heads of Houses are all gathered by the sitting area all looking suitably sombre.

Minerva’s eyes flicker to Harry and he knows instantly that she has seen the memory; her gaze is a mixture of pride, horror and concern. It’s the most she’s looked like his own Professor McGonagall even with her more stylish dress and her sharp grey bob of hair.

Harry stiffens as he realises Aurelius Dumbledore is also present, a silent figure standing over to the far right in the shadows. He’s dressed in black in the same fashion as Snape; high-necked robes and dull black trousers. His hair unlike Snape’s is buzzed short. Harry nods an acknowledgement to him and tries to ignore his presence.

Hermione sits down in one of the empty chairs and Harry stands behind her; Sirius takes up a similar position behind Lily’s.

“If I could have everybody’s attention,” Dumbledore says briskly, clapping his hands together lightly. “I believe everyone here has seen the memory Instructor Potter has shared apart from Professor Evans who was informed by Harry himself. Now, our worlds are similar but not the same, however Slytherin loved snakes and he did journal about experimenting with breeding so it is not an impossibility that we might find a basilisk here.”

“I rather hope that this is one instance in which our worlds differ greatly,” Minerva says briskly.

“Hear, hear,” mutters Horace.

Harry wouldn’t say he’s grown fond of the portly Potions Professor, but he and Hermione have found an ally in the old wizard, even if they know his motivation is rooted in social status rather than honour.

“I suggest a few of us here stay behind ready to render assistance if needed,” Dumbledore continues as though they haven’t spoken. “The rest of us will make our way to the bathroom where we believe the entrance is located and make our way to the chamber.”

Snape grimaces behind Dumbledore, not hiding how very unimpressed he is at the idea of the girls’ bathroom being the entrance to Slytherin’s secret lair.

“Once we’re inside, we will call the basilisk forward, conjure a rooster and hopefully it will all be over very quickly,” Dumbledore concludes calmly.

“Are we certain a conjured rooster will be sufficient?” asks Filius, his bushy moustache quivering.

It’s a very good question.

“There is nothing to say that it will not be, but nothing to say it is a guaranteed success,” Dumbledore allows genially. “However, it is the most expedient method of killing the basilisk.”

“We could have sent the house elves to buy an actual rooster earlier today,” Minerva points out.

Dumbledore looks at her sharply. “We could always try that method if conjuring does not work.”

“The basilisk hunts through smell and sound mostly,” Lily states loudly before an argument can break out. “The group going to confront it should be strong enough in their charms work to mask their smell and hide their noise.”

“That rules me out then,” Aurelius says softly before anyone else can speak. “Charms is my weakest area.”

Dumbledore frowns heavily at his nephew.

“I’ll be part of the cavalry, Uncle Albus,” Aurelius says.

“Very well,” Dumbledore huffs. “Anyone else who would rule themselves out on the same basis?”

Pomona lifts her hand. “I’m completely pants at those kind of charms.”

“Me too,” Horace says quickly. “There is a reason why Potions is my area of speciality.”

Dumbledore turns and looks pointedly at Minerva.

“As you well know, I am proficient,” Minerva says frostily, “but I believe the mission would be better served by others in the room.”

“It would be good for someone with good charms experience to be part of the cavalry,” Sirius says breaking the awkward silence. “If we need others to come to our aid, I suspect a strong charms ability will be vital.”

“Lily is the best at charms within this group,” Filius offers.

Lily startles and turns to face Filius with a frown. “I would rather go with Harry.”

“I understand, Lily,” Filius says, “but I really believe you should stay back.”

Harry knows that Filius could order her if he wished; Lily is apprenticed to the Charms Professor and ultimately under the conditions of their contract he could refuse for her to be involved at all.

Lily pushes a loose strand of her red hair back behind an ear. Her eyes meet Harry’s as she shifts to look at him. “I really want to stay with you.”

“Honestly if we’re going on charms ability I should stay behind,” Harry jokes.

Lily’s lips twitch and her green eyes warm with amusement.

“I think Sirius is right and we need someone who can come riding to the rescue,” Harry says. “I know I’d feel better if it were you.”

Lily bites her lip before she accepts with a graceful nod. “OK, but next time I’m right beside you.”

“Hopefully there isn’t a next time,” Harry quips. He glances at Hermione who has also turned to look at him directly.

“Don’t even think about asking me to stay behind,” Hermione says briskly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry hurries out. “You’re much better at charms than me.”

“And don’t you forget it!” Hermione says as she pokes him in the arm.

Dumbledore coughs. “Well, in that case it appears that the group for the basilisk will be Harry, Hermione, Severus, Sirius, Filius and myself.” He waves at the door. “Let us all adjourn to the second floor.”

“Why can’t we wait here?”

Harry hears Pomona’s loud whisper as they all make for the office door.

“We should be close if we’re cavalry,” Minerva answers quietly. “Don’t worry, I’ll transfigure some comfortable chairs for us.”

“We should also get the house elves to bring some refreshments,” Horace proclaims.

Harry tries to hide his grin as he walks past them, hand in hand with his wife.

Hermione leans into him. “Maybe I’ll change my mind and stay behind for tea and biscuits.”

“I bet it’s wine and cheese,” Harry retorts in the same low tone.

Hermione gives a small laugh.

Thankfully the corridors are clear of students because he has no idea what story Dumbledore intended to use to explain away the sight of a significant number of professors trooping along the corridors of Hogwarts together.

They all come to a stop outside of the girls’ bathroom on the second floor.

“I’ll check nobody’s inside,” Hermione says loudly.

“We will check,” Minerva corrects her.

Dumbledore sensibly steps out of the way of the two witches.

Harry pushes his glasses up his nose as they disappear into the bathroom. He can hear the murmur of their voices beyond the heavy wooden door and he frowns as they suddenly fall silent.

Many in the group exchange an anxious look.

Sirius’ hand lands on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

Harry takes a step towards the bathroom anyway. They’ve been silent for too long. Maybe they’ve been petrified or…

The door opens and Hermione gestures at him.

“You’d best come in,” she says crisply, “we have a problem.” She turns on her heel and walks back inside.

Harry rushes after her.

He thinks he sees the problem immediately: the bathroom looks very different to the one in their world. It is very modernised in comparison to the old fixtures and fittings which were the feature of every common bathroom at their Hogwarts. The only thing which is the same is the smell of stale toilet water left steeping too long in a cistern.

Harry ignores the water underfoot as he moves to where Hermione stands and follows the direction of her pointed finger. The tap she’s pointing at should have the embossed snake, but it doesn’t.

“Maybe they replaced the tap with a standard one when they updated it?” Harry thinks aloud.

Hermione wrinkles her nose. “So, you think the passageway to the chamber is still behind it?”

“It’s a good theory,” Sirius says.

Harry glances back and finds the rest of the professors all crowded into the room behind him.

Dumbledore is blinking at the pristine tap, taken aback by the unexpected turn of events.

Harry looks at Hermione. “Will the password work if there is no snake?”

“We should try it,” Hermione suggests.

“Right,” Harry nods. He turns back to the group. “Cavalry should stay in the corridor. There is the outside possibility if this works that whoever has the diary, uh, whatever artefact it is this time has already visited the chamber and let the basilisk loose.”

His words galvanise most of the professors to hurry out.

Minerva pats his arm and wishes him luck as she pushes past him. Lily darts in and hugs both him and Hermione before she reluctantly leaves.

Dumbledore brandishes the recorder and holds it beside the tap.

Harry holds his breath as Dumbledore presses the play and the words hiss out of the speaker.

Nothing happens.

Harry takes a breath.

“Perhaps we should try it close to all the taps,” Filius says brightly. “Maybe it is a different tap here.”

Dumbledore nods. He moves onto the next tap. He rewinds the recorder and presses play; the words hiss out.

Nothing happens.

They repeat with the remaining eight taps.

Nothing happens.

Hermione taps her foot, the sound echoing over the tiled room. “It might not be a tap at all here. Let’s look around for a snake motif.”

Several minutes later, they’ve searched up and down the bathroom and found nothing. Dumbledore tries holding the recorder up against every fixture including every overflowing toilet.

Still nothing happens.

The basilisk group reforms in the centre of the room.

Dumbledore lifts the recorder thoughtfully. “Perhaps the recording is the issue. Maybe it needs someone to say the words.”

They all look at Harry expectantly.

Harry clears his throat and tries to mimic the hiss from his memory. He looks around as he finishes.

Nothing.

“Maybe it’s not the recording,” Hermione theorises, “maybe the removal of the snake tap means that the password doesn’t work. Maybe the tap was a trigger of something else which required for the snake motif to do something.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore nods. “Unfortunate then.”

Sirius stares past them to the wall. “If that’s true the passageway should still be there behind the sinks.” He lifts his wand and mutters a spell under his breath. The wall trembles before it breaks free with a loud crack.

Dumbledore points his wand and transfigures it all into a statue of a snake.

Filius sniffs. “Really, Albus? A snake?”

“I was inspired,” Dumbledore claims dryly.

Harry isn’t really listening to them because he’s staring at the old stone wall which has been revealed, a wall without a secret passageway in sight.

“Maybe we should try the recording again with this wall?” ponders Hermione.

“I think that would be a fool’s errand,” Dumbledore says tersely.

Sirius rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe we could tap each brick, see if any have a hollow space behind?”

Filius clears his throat. “Stand back.” The diminutive professor holds both his hands up, his wand gripped tightly in his left. He casts with a giant forward push.

All the bricks turn invisible giving a clean line of sight to beyond…

It is another wall.

No passageway.

Harry pushes a hand through his hair. He has no idea where to go from here.

Dumbledore steps up in the same way Filius had and does the same spell to the wall beyond. They see an empty classroom covered in dust sheets.

“It seems,” Snape drawls darkly, “that there is no entrance in this bathroom.”

There is no entrance.

Harry rubs his forehead. He can feel the beginnings of a headache starting to form behind his eyes. “Myrtle was killed in this bathroom?”

“Yes,” Hermione answers him immediately. “According to all the records, she was definitely killed here.” She points down at the ground.

“But everyone thought it was a suicide at the time,” Sirius adds, frowning. “Nobody linked it to Riddle.”

“Her death is still recorded as a suicide,” Dumbledore says gravely. “We only began to think otherwise with your own tale of what befell her.”

And suddenly Harry knows what has been bugging him about the bathroom.

“If Myrtle was killed here and haunts this space like she did back on our world,” Harry says slowly, “then where is she?”

“Oh my God,” Hermione says, clasping a hand to her mouth.

It’s not just the passageway which is missing.

It’s Myrtle.

Chapter 4: Rogue Butterflies

Harry blows his whistle as Geraldine Greengrass fouls Bill Weasley for the second time in the Quidditch match.

It is the first Quidditch match back after the break. The Hufflepuffs are languishing at the bottom of the table and the Gryffindors just above them. The strategy of trying to outscore the other team only works if the opposing seeker doesn’t find the snitch early or the team are unable to keep within touching distance of the score. There is really no hope against Slytherin who have excellent chasers.

Harry keeps watch diligently even as his mind slips back over the past terrible week, trying not to feel completely disheartened again.

The revelation that the entryway to the chamber was not in the bathroom and Myrtle was missing has halted their quest to find the basilisk, or whatever the monster is, and resolve the latest plot.

They had done a full contraband check of the students during the first week and found nothing.

Well.

They had found more booze than Harry has ever suspected could be smuggled into Hogwarts. He knows Dean and Seamus smuggled a bottle of cheap whiskey in every term after their fourth year. They’d never shared it with him and he’d always been distracted by whatever Voldemort nonsense had been going on at the time. Ron had smuggled a bottle of cider in during their Sixth Year only for the twins to steal it in the first week.

Harry frowns.

He’d never truly thought about smuggling any kind of booze into school. Apart from the fact that Aunt Petunia would have noticed immediately if any of their booze had gone missing and gone completely nuts over it (even Dudley at his worst had understood not to poke his mother’s temper and had targeted the corner shop rather than her drinks cabinet), he had never really had free access to any.

He blows the whistle as the Slytherin Captain, Flint, fouls the Gryffindor seeker, Orwen, in a completely unnecessary move since he was literally not doing anything, even searching the sky for the snitch.

The only other thing which had turned up in just as much abundance as the alcohol during the contraband search had been an astonishing number of chocolate frog collection cards.

Harry had been taken aback by how many. Ron had been a prolific collector during their younger years so he kind of knew it was a popular thing for wizarding kids but it had amazed him to see just how many students brought almost their entire collections with them.

Diaries and journals were much less popular. They hadn’t wanted to give away that they knew about the attempt to target Harry by revealing their knowledge of a diary. Dumbledore had instead instructed the house elves to check any diary or journal for dark magic. The result had been a complete anticlimax. There was no diary or journal sporting the name ‘T. Riddle’ and nothing which reeked of dangerous magic.

It was as much of a dead end as the bathroom, Harry muses.

Dumbledore had also had the elves check the staff quarters. There was no sign of the diary anywhere.

It is very likely that whatever the artefact is, it isn’t a diary, Harry considers as he flies across the pitch following the Slytherins’ latest run on goal. Hermione is certain of it and Harry would never bet against her.  She, Sirius and Lily are researching potential artefacts which would help drain the magic and lifeforce from someone, transferring it to someone else.

Dumbledore has the house elves watching the students for anyone exhibiting signs of possession.

Harry shudders slightly.

He knows he and Hermione are both watching the Weasleys in particular. They’ve established that the Malfoys and the Weasleys do have a feud as they did in Harry’s home world. He definitely believes that Abraxas would take advantage of the situation to also hurt them. However, both Bill and Charlie have acted completely normal, laughing and joking with their friends, getting into mild trouble with some pranks, and not acting at all suspicious.

Harry tunes back into the Quidditch match in time to blow the whistle and give another penalty to Gryffindor. The penalty gives the Gryffindors another goal and the red and gold stands go wild in celebration.

Harry resets the match and the teams play on. He lets his gaze glide right past the snitch which he spots up high, far out of reach of the gameplay, almost as though it is hiding.

Suddenly a flash of a bludger careening across the pitch draws Harry’s attention. It zigs when it should zag, pitches down instead of up, and…and is arrowed in on the nearest Gryffindor…their seeker…

Harry moves sharply to his left, readying his wand to intervene…

Bill flies across the pitch and yanks the frozen seeker downward. 

The bludger misses them both by inches.

Harry blows the whistle and keeps focused on the bludger which is making a serve back towards the players.

He taps his throat with his wand. “Everyone land! NOW!”

Every player makes for the ground, but the bludger is not deterred. It targets a Slytherin chaser who blanches when he spots it.

One of the Gryffindor Beaters, Vanessa Liddle, intervenes, whacking the bludger away with force.

Harry is peripherally aware of the staff present hurrying into positions in the stands to help him, of Hermione running down the stairs to make it to the ground to do whatever she intends, but his focus is on the bludger.

The hard ball shoots upwards and when it dives down it targets the Gryffindor stand.

Harry shoots forward, body pressed the length of his broom to intervene, he snaps out his wand at the ball and his spell slams into the bludger and turns it into a million butterflies.

A million butterflies who turn from the stands to swarm him.

He throws up a shield but they slam into it so repeatedly and at such force that his broom plummets as his balance fails.

Harry desperately tries to regain control, but he knows it is too late. He sees the ground coming up towards him and he…leaps from the broom and sends the spell to stop it haphazardly.

He has just enough time to reinforce the cushioning spell on the grass and he lands…

Bounces upward…

Lands with his left arm awkwardly under him and he hears the snap before he feels the sharp slash of pain…

Bounces again…

Lands and tumbles to a stop.

For a second he cannot breathe, the air punched out of him. His right hand is gripping his broken left arm to his body completely instinctively.

Bloody Fate.

Harry blinks black spots out of his vision, aware of a pounding noise near to his ear. For a brief moment he wonders if it is Gilderoy Lockhart coming to remove the bones in his arm again.

He blinks and his parents are above him; James’ hazel eyes crinkled with worry, Lily’s green ones furiously angry.

“Mum…”

He wonders where Hermione is and why she isn’t with him.

Harry’s vision darkens and he’s out.

Raised voices pull him back into consciousness. He sensibly keeps his eyes closed. The scents around him are clean, medicinal and familiar; he’s in the infirmary.

His right hand is secured in Hermione’s. He knows the feel of her fingers tangled with his, the warmth and softness of her skin. Her touch is like an anchor steadying him.

Dumbledore’s voice is low and angry. He hadn’t been at the game. He’d been patrolling the castle in case whatever monster might roam Hogwarts made an appearance. He’s arguing against informing the War Council about everything; James is arguing passionately that, with the events of the game, it is too late to hide from the Council the fact that Voldemort is trying to kill Harry.

Harry sighs and opens his eyes.

Hermione’s gaze immediately snaps to meet his blurry vision.

Harry wandlessly summons his glasses and slides them on. Harry raises Hermione’s hand and kisses her knuckles to sooth the worry he can see painted over her face. It works because the lines fade away and she bends down to kiss his forehead over the thin line of his old scar.

He glances down at his left arm which is completely immobilised. He realises he has the faint taste of skelegro in the back of his throat and almost gags.

Lily springs up from her seat beside the bed. She places a hand over his brow and strokes his hair away from his face gently. “You scared us.”

Harry grimaces. “I landed wrong.”

“Yes, you did, Harry,” Ariana bustles over, her green Healer’s robes swishing about her in a way which makes Harry dizzy. She casts a diagnostic spell over him. “You broke your arm and gave yourself a severe concussion.”

“Nobody spelled my bones out of my arm though,” Harry notes cheerfully.

Hermione rolls her eyes at him.

“Unfortunately I can see that someone really did remove your bones in the past from the scan I took,” Ariana confirms dryly.

“Who removed your bones?” demands Lily.

“Lockhart,” Harry murmurs.

“Lockhart?” James mutters tersely. “I might have guessed.”

Harry belatedly spots him lurking behind Lily. “Isn’t Scrimgeour supposed to be investigating him?”

James frowns and closes his eyes. “I didn’t tell him.”

“Which suggests our decision to keep this matter within the walls of Hogwarts is the right one if Fate obscured your memory to prevent your intention,” Dumbledore appears at the foot of the bed. His hands are clasped behind his back. “I do not believe it is sensible to bring this to the attention of the rest of the Council.”

James folds his arms. “You just want to keep control of the situation.”

Ariana huffs a laugh under her breath. Her brother shoots her a look of betrayal.

“You can’t say it will help the situation to have the Ministry crawling through Hogwarts or the school shut down, can you, Potter?” Snape says from somewhere beyond Harry’s sight.

Harry grimaces at the familiar sneering tone. He doesn’t bother locating the man. He’s in pain enough without adding actually seeing Snape to the mix.

“I am part of the Ministry,” James points out calmly.

Hermione sighs. “It probably won’t help matters. All they did was arrest Hagrid in our world.”

“I like to think our Ministry is slightly better than yours,” James says dryly.

“Even so,” Hermione replies with a small smile, “I agree with the Headmaster. We should probably continue without the Ministry’s assistance for the time being.”

“I’m not sure I can keep from making a report without compromising my Auror oaths,” James notes, exasperation tinging his words.

“You can make a report about the bludger,” Hermione concedes. “Sirius and Minerva are questioning the students to see if it was some kind of prank.”

The heavy implication that James could use that as an excuse in his report is obvious enough that even Harry can spot it.

“Only we all know it wasn’t a prank but an attempt to kill someone! Harry almost died protecting the kids out there!” Lily says sharply. “We should have Aurors properly investigate it!”

“I agree with Lily,” James says. His chin is set at a stubborn angle Harry recognises all too well from himself.

“As do I,” Snape chimes in again. “We cannot contain what happened at the game due to the number of visitors. No doubt some students have also already written to their parents.”

Dumbledore looks vexed.

“I’ve already had to allay my father’s concerns about Harry’s injury,” James says. “I know Sirius is talking with Arcturus now to do the same.” 

Harry clears his throat. “Perhaps we can tell the Ministry about the warning of a threat towards me and the bludger attack without confiding everything.”

“That feels like an acceptable compromise to me,” James says, shooting Harry a grateful look.

“I’m not entirely certain what is going on here,” Ariana comments, “but if there is a threat not only should the Ministry be informed but the rest of the staff.”

“The Heads know, but perhaps you are correct,” Dumbledore concedes.

“Won’t you get in trouble, James, if you don’t tell them the whole of it?” Lily turns to James, reaching out to him in concern.

He grasps her hand and shakes his head. “I can claim that we don’t know many of the details for certain.”

“Which is the truth,” Hermione agrees with an odd note in her voice which Harry recognises; it means she’s deduced something.

Harry looks at her questioningly.

Hermione squeezes his hand gently. “Salazar Slytherin was a Knight of Avalon here, Harry. If we consider it in that context, the likelihood of him creating the basilisk as he did on our world is very low.”

Harry sees Ariana mouth the word ‘basilisk.’

“What if Merlin gifted him a basilisk like he gifted us Crookshanks and Godric?” Harry points out.

“It would be a weird choice for someone founding a school, but maybe there is an outside chance,” Hermione allows, “but I think it is much more likely that the threat Riddle wants to unleash on the school is something else.”

Harry won’t argue it since there are already enough differences to make the existence of the basilisk uncertain.

“So, we’re agreed we’re going to bring in the Aurors to investigate what happened with the bludger?” James checks.

“And telling the staff about this threat,” Ariana adds.

There is a murmur of agreement.

Harry wrinkles his nose. “Did my broom survive?” It doesn’t have the sentimental value of the one he lost to the Whomping Willow when he’d fallen from his broom in Third Year, but he loves that broom.

“It did,” Hermione reassures him. “It’s in our quarters.”

“Vanessa Liddle deserves a hundred points,” Harry says abruptly, suddenly remembering how she’d batted away the bludger.

Snape snorts. Harry ignores him.

“I agree,” Dumbledore says. “She acted very heroically. Perhaps an award of some kind is appropriate too.”

Lily rubs Harry’s shoulder gently. “You were also a hero.”

“I turned a bludger into a million tiny butterfly missiles,” Harry retorts.

Hermione’s lips twitch into a small smile. “It was a good thought. Unfortunately the curse they used on the bludger didn’t get destroyed with the transfiguration.”

“It was a sophisticated spell,” Lily comments. “I know a few of us tried to affect the bludger from the stands with no luck.”

Dumbledore strokes his beard thoughtfully. “That suggests a powerful individual cast the spell.”

“Not a possessed child,” James surmises, nodding. “Maybe the artefact we think is involved was given to a staff member not a student.”

“None of the staff had it in their possession,” Dumbledore replies. “But potentially we need to consider a more systematic search to find anything which might be the artefact.”

Ariana hums. “I’m certain the staff will appreciate the need for a search if they realise there is a threat.”

“Your point is made, Ariana,” Dumbledore says sharply.

Harry clears his throat. “Dobby enchanted the bludger back on our world. He meant to scare me away from Hogwarts.”

“You don’t think this Dobby…” began Hermione.

“No,” Harry says, “I don’t think this Dobby did anything, but we shouldn’t discount that it might not be a witch or a wizard who interfered with the bludger.”

Dumbledore nods slowly. “It is a good point.”

“I’ll make sure to examine the butterflies for other magical traces,” James says.

“Butterflies?” Harry looks at James quizzically. “I thought the spell would have ended by now.”

“You’re more powerful than you think,” quips James, smirking. “Sirius and Hermione managed to net them before they all flew away.”

Harry squeezes Hermione’s hand and smiles up at her.

Hermione flushes. “Actually, it was mostly Sirius. I stopped casting when you bounced. I felt your pain.”

Harry smiles at her. “I’m fine now.”

“You’re not fine now,” Ariana corrects him sharply. “You’re concussed and recovering. I’m going to keep you overnight for observation.”

Harry doesn’t bother to hide his dismay, but before he can protest a sudden memory pops into his brain like a sharp slap.

“It’ll happen tonight,” Harry blurts out. “I was in the infirmary recovering from the bludger when the first student was carried in petrified.”

“Colin,” Hermione says under her breath, realisation sparking in her eyes.

James looks over at Dumbledore sternly. “I’m going to report the incident on the field. We can get an Auror patrol for the school tonight.”

Harry glances across to Dumbledore to see his reaction. There is an unhappy frown line bisecting his eyebrows but the Headmaster nods.

“You did well protecting the students, Harry,” Dumbledore says briskly. “Rest and feel better.” He whirls away before Harry can respond.

Snape unpeels himself from a shadowy corner and follows after his mentor.

Ariana rolls her eyes. “I’ll send a house elf with some food for your dinner. Eat and sleep. It’s the best medicine for you.” She waves a hand around the bed. “Professor Potter may stay with her husband, but you both should say your goodbyes and leave him to rest.” She sweeps away in a fashion which is not unlike her brother.

James heaves a sigh, his hands running through his messy hair. He reaches out and touches Harry’s leg. “Rest up, Harry.”

Harry attempts a reassuring smile. “Good luck with the report.”

James huffs a laugh. “I’ll need it!” He leans in and kisses Lily’s cheek softly.

The couple exchange a very sappy look which makes Harry’s belly squirm.

James walks away, his confident stride taking him out of the infirmary swiftly.

Lily watches him go until the door closes after him. She sighs.

Harry shoots Hermione a plea for help. She rolls her eyes at him.

“You should head out, Lily,” Hermione says. “I’ve got him from here.”

Lily grimaces. “I just want to stay a little longer if that’s alright? I can’t quite get the sight of Harry falling out of my head.”

“I leaped,” Harry argues weakly.

“Because otherwise you were going to crash,” Hermione retorts, her fingers tightening on his. She nods at Lily. “Why don’t you stay for dinner with us?”

Lily’s expression brightens.

As if Hermione’s words have summoned them, Kitsy, the infirmary house elf, pops in, her arms laden with a heavy tray of food.

Harry’s stomach growls at the smell of beef stew. He’s helped into a sitting position by both Hermione and Lily and his plate is set on a lap tray for him. The stew is made with bite-sized pieces of meat and vegetables which he can eat with just a spoon. Freshly buttered bread rolls are provided too, and there is a bowl of fruit and ice cream sitting ready for his dessert.

Kitsy sorts out a table for Hermione and Lily.

They all tuck eagerly into their meal.

“Things seem to be going well between you and James,” Hermione comments, a light teasing tone to her voice.

Harry wishes she had chosen a different topic and takes another spoonful of stew to save himself from having to contribute. He loves that Lily and James are courting; he just didn’t want to hear about any of the details.

Lily smiles. “They are. He’s a good man.” She waves her spoon at Hermione. “My parents love him.”

“How about Petunia?” asks Hermione.

“She’s not thrilled, but then I think she would only be happy if I brought home a muggle accountant and declared that I was forsaking magic and moving to live a very dull life in the suburbs like her,” Lily says drily.

Harry chuckles. “Sounds like Petunia.”

Lily smiles a touch wickedly. “I told her Sev loathes James which made her act friendlier towards James at least.”

“The enemy of my enemy…” Hermione offers with a grin, picking up a roll and smearing it with butter.

“Exactly,” Lily nods. “Sometimes I can’t quite believe how well things are going with James. It feels a little unreal.” She smiles softly, her eyes drifting past Hermione to the window. “It feels like we’ve always been together despite it only being weeks.”

“As long as you’re happy,” Harry says quietly, pushing his empty plate to one side to make room for the ice cream bowl. He ignores the flickering guilt which makes his heart ache a touch. If Arthur and Merlin hadn’t needed to bring him to their world, James and Lily would already be married with a Harry of their own.

It wasn’t his fault, Harry reminds himself; only Arthur and Merlin are to blame. 

“I am,” Lily says. “I mean, I wish Sev was more supportive or just less unhappy about it but I guess that’s asking a lot given the history. I just wish he would get over the past like Sirius has done.”

There is a note of annoyance which tells Harry all he needs to know about Snape’s continuing petulance over Lily being with James.

Lily asks Hermione a question about some magical theory and Harry lets their discussion wash over him as he finishes his dessert.

Tiredness is setting into every part of him and he pushes the tray aside and sees it disappear with satisfaction. He wriggles back against his pillow, closes his eyes and lets the pull of sleep tug him under.

BANG!

Harry’s eyes fly open and he blinks up at the fuzzy ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest as though he’s flown a whole Quidditch match.

The infirmary is dark.

A quick glance to his right shows that the windows are covered with heavy drapes. Amber light floods in from the corridor through the open doorway where Poppy Pomfrey is leading a floating stretcher to the bed opposite Harry’s on the other side of the infirmary.

Harry realises that the door crashing against the wall must have been what woke him as he blinks rapidly. He pats his face with his good hand and finds his glasses are missing again. He summons them from the bedside table and hauls himself into a semi-sitting position through sheer willpower. His left arm is still immobile and it aches in a way which Harry knows is the potion healing the bones.

He stares at the two Aurors hurrying inside behind the stretcher; Pettigrew and Croaker. He vaguely recalls James going to report the incident with the bludger and saying something about an Auror patrol. He shivers at the sight of them. One is too much of a reminder of his past and the other is a blatant reminder that he’s on another world entirely. Pettigrew looks like the same dark-haired wizard of Harry’s world but he’s much fitter than Wormtail. His companion a tall honey-brown haired man has very few Dumbledore features despite being Ariana’s son.

Ariana arrives in her dressing gown and Harry lowers himself carefully back into a prone position. He stays still hoping not to draw attention to himself.

“Peter, Bertie. What has happened to Professor Wilde?” asks Ariana sharply, already casting.

“We found him outside the cordoned off bathroom on the second floor on our rounds,” Pettigrew states grimly. “He was lying in a puddle of water, out cold, not breathing.”

“I rendered first aid,” Croaker replies briskly. “Got him breathing again. Was it a stroke or a heart attack?”

Ariana looks at the spooling diagnostic arithmancy in front of her. “Neither. He’s been cursed.”

Poppy gasps. “Surely not!”

Harry blinks. At least he’s not petrified or killed by a basilisk stare? 

“What kind of curse?” asks Pettigrew.

Ariana waves a hand at the floating yellow figures. “The Assassin’s Mask.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that one, Mum,” Croaker says, peering at the diagnostic.

Pettigrew lifts his wand and taps the floating arithmancy once. He holds up a parchment and taps it. The spell copies itself on the paper.

“It’s an old spell originating in Asia,” Ariana says absently. Her attention on examining Wilde. “It was typically used to mask assassinations. It was very popular during the Grindelwald era. The curse finds some way for the recipient to die; suicide, physical ailments, whatever works for the individual. People think the death is not murder and look elsewhere. It is rarely caught.” She looks up from her patient. “You did well. The curse caused a severe heart attack. If he hadn’t been found we would have assumed he had simply died of natural causes.”

Croaker nods. “I thought Uncle Albus gave everyone a curfew and orders to stay out of the corridors tonight.”

“Th curfew was for the students,” Ariana says briskly. “I’m not sure why Ambrosius would have been out of his quarters though. It’s not like him to roam the corridors.”

“Why would he be outside of a girls’ bathroom on that floor?” Pettigrew wonders out loud. “Wilde never struck me as a perv.”

“Because he isn’t, Peter, and that is a terrible accusation to lodge against a kind old wizard who is only interested in runes and craftwork,” Ariana says bluntly.

“If someone cursed him, maybe he was moved,” Croaker suggests, “although I’m not too sure why anyone would move him to that particular corridor.”

“You’ll have to ask Albus about that,” Ariana says. “Now shoo. I need to focus here.”

“Let us know how he’s doing when you’re finished treating him, Auntie Ariana,” Pettigrew states firmly. “Come on, Bertie, let’s go examine that corridor again. Maybe we missed something.”

Croaker acquiesces, falling easily into step with Pettigrew as they leave through the open door.

Poppy clears her throat. “He’s breathing on his own, but he’s unresponsive to stimuli.” Her voice trembles.

“He died,” Ariana states with customary bluntness. “His body is still fighting the curse. We have to prepare for the possibility that he may never recover consciousness.” She steps back from the bed. “We’ve given him the best chance we can. All we can do now is wait.”

Poppy nods. “You should return to your bed, Ariana.”

“Why don’t we have a soothing cup of cocoa in the office first?” Ariana puts her arm around the matronly nurse and leads her away.

The main door shuts with a quiet click, plunging the room completely into darkness.

Harry stares across the room. He wonders why Wilde was targeted. He likes the old wizard. They’d worked together to create a broom maintenance project for the students the previous term. Wilde has numerous stories about his time as a professor under Headmaster Dippet and is an enthusiastic storyteller when he’s with a willing audience. Harry has found him an affable chap who keeps to himself otherwise. Why would anyone want to kill him?

Maybe, Harry considers grimly, because Wilde had seen something. Maybe whatever monster hides in the Chamber; maybe the artefact; maybe the person possessed by the artefact…

He can only hope Wilde will recover and be able to tell them what happened and who had tried to kill him. Harry wishes he could get a soothing cup of cocoa.

He doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

Interlude

Lily steps out of the Floo and into the dark poky parlour of Severus’ childhood home. Why he keeps the old house in their hometown is beyond her understanding. He had hated growing up in the house. His childhood had been truly terrible with an alcoholic father and a bitter witch for a mother.

Severus ushers her through into the back. They bypass the dining room which Severus uses as a personal lab and head through to the kitchen. It is a small galley style affair with old worn cupboards in a horrible lime green plastic. The walls are covered with shelves crammed with the teapots which Eileen Prince had collected.

Lily grimaces at them as she passes, following Severus into the tiny back sunroom which smells faintly of mould. It looks out into the small patch of garden with its withered grass. A weed-strewn pathway winds down one side to the old outside loo.

She sits gingerly in the chair which had been Eileen’s favourite seat and shivers as though she can sense her presence still there.

Severus bustles about with making tea, bringing a proper tray through complete with a plate of shortbread biscuits. He pours them both a cup and settles into the opposite chair with a huff of breath.

Lily raises her cup in a silent toast, takes a sip and pins Severus with a pointed look. “Why are we here, Sev?”

She wasn’t particularly thrilled at having to make excuses to Minerva and Filius for her absence at Hogwarts. It wasn’t that they weren’t allowed to leave the school on a weeknight, it was just highly frowned upon. Add in everything that had happened in the past week and neither Minerva nor Filius had been pleased. She had told Harry and Hermione the truth that Severus had asked her to leave with him after dinner for a private conversation.

“This is about Dumbledore. I needed somewhere away from Hogwarts,” Severus says crisply. “As far as he knows I’m spending the time trying to talk you out of getting any closer to the Potters.”

Lily tilts her head and brushes her fringe back. “I take it he’s not in favour of James courting me then.”

Severus shakes his head and not a strand of his black hair moves, frozen into position by his slimy hair gel. She’d given up trying to get him to take an interest in his appearance years before but there are moments where she regrets not trying harder.

“He knows that if you marry the prat, he will lose any chance to manipulate you fully to his side,” Severus allows dryly. “He’s more concerned about that than whether or not Potter is actually the right choice for you.”

“Well, let’s not have that argument again,” Lily states firmly.

She shivers again and wishes she had worn something a little heavier than the light summer cardigan she had chosen for the evening. The sky-blue colour was pretty and went with the rather plain blue dress she’d worn under her day robes for classes that day, but it wasn’t the warmest clothing for sitting in a chilly old sunroom that was devoid of sun and lacked any kind of heating.

Severus purses his lips.

She knows he really wants to argue about James courting her. They’ve had more than one furious row about it already. After the third, they had mutually decided for the sake of their friendship not to discuss it.

She understands why Severus hates the idea of her being with James. It is not a secret that James and his fellow Mischief Makers bullied Severus at Hogwarts. But he wasn’t their only victim. Sirius was just as targeted – sometimes more. If Sirius could put aside all the animosity and build a friendship, Lily is certain Severus can do the same, if he truly wants to do so. The problem is that he doesn’t want to and that is the truth of it.

It is his choice. Lily respects it even if she hates it. What she is less amused by is that he does not respect her choice. He has a real problem with Lily forgiving James for his past behaviour.

On one hand, she knows Severus feels betrayed because he feels that she has chosen James despite Sev being her best friend since childhood. In many ways, she can understand his position. If she found out that Severus was suddenly courting Petunia, she might feel the same. She has sympathy for Severus’ feelings.

On the other hand, James’ past poor behaviour was that of a boy. He’s a grown man and she likes the man he’s becoming. He has been polite and civil when in Severus’ company; he’s offered an apology and forced his Mischief Maker friends into doing the same. He’s not the arrogant toerag who bullied her best friend; he’s a good man trying to do good in the world.

She can’t deny that her views might be being influenced by the family magic which has been a revelation. She’s somewhat relieved that her magic is centred on Harry and Hermione who are equally new to it. She feels Harry’s kinship with the Potters through their shared family bond though and she cannot deny that she looks at James differently because of it.

Lily utterly adores Harry.

She doesn’t care that she isn’t his biological mother; her magic has claimed him as her own. She knows her counterpart on his world died in his protection and she would do the same. She looks at Harry and she sees the possibility of the future she and James might build; the family they might create.

She wants it.

And she knows Severus does not understand, has continued to have concerns about Harry even if he’s reconciled to her other worldly son being a part of her life.

Severus clears his throat and Lily shakes off her musings and returns her attention to him.

Lily sets the teacup back into the saucer with a small clash of crockery. “What’s Dumbledore done now?”

Severus grimaces. “He wants me to go undercover.”

“You mean with Riddle?” Lily frowns.

“He’s upset at what happened last weekend,” Severus says.

“We’re all upset,” Lily retorts. She brushes a stray strand of her red hair back behind her ear. “At least Professor Wilde is still alive.”

“Barely,” Severus informs her. “He’s being transferred to Saint Mungo’s tomorrow; Scrimgeour’s orders. He thinks Hogwarts isn’t secure enough to protect Wilde.”

Lily blows out a breath and wraps her cardigan more firmly around her body. She wordlessly casts a warming charm around herself. “I can’t say I blame him. Wilde was cursed. The bludger was cursed. We know someone is likely running around possessed.”

There are moments when she wonders if they’d all be safer closing the school.

“Dumbledore thinks I should use my old links with the pureblood crowd,” Severus continues. “I might be able to use the fact of your courting and my disillusionment with our infamous Knights of Avalon to get into Riddle’s circle.”

Lily ignores how he sneers Harry and Hermione’s titles. “To what end? Assuming Malfoy acted on his behest and not his own, Riddle is hardly going to admit who has the diary or whatever the artefact is that he’s using. He might give up the location of the chamber to a trusted confederate certainly, but you will hardly be that straight away.”

“You have articulately expressed my own concerns,” Severus taps his teacup restlessly giving away his anxiety.

She shifts forward. “You also know what Harry told you about the Severus Snape in his world. If you do this, you’ll have two masters; Dumbledore and Riddle. You’ll barely have breathing room for what you want.”

“Yet we have no one else on their side,” Severus counters sombrely. “Potter said that his Snape was able to protect him by being a double agent. Perhaps I can do the same and protect you this way.”

Lily frowns. “I would never ask you to do that.”

“I know,” Severus says quietly. “But if I must do this, I can comfort myself with the reason why I choose to do it.”

“What do you mean must?” demands Lily, her mind whirling back in horror at his wording.

“Albus does not ask. His statement about this whole matter assumed compliance.”

“He can’t force you to do it,” Lily says. Her fingers worry at the button at the bottom of her cardigan.

“I agreed to his terms when I became his apprentice,” Severus says brusquely. “Obedience was one of them.”

“Obedience in your apprenticeship!” Lily springs to her feet and paces the few steps away to the far wall. She turns back. “He cannot make you do this! It’s not right!”

Severus rests his elbows on his knees and steeples his fingers under his chin as he leans forward. His dark eyes swim with frustration. “I lose my apprenticeship if I refuse and unlike you, I have no family to argue for me.”

Lily presses her lips together. “You have me!”

Severus bows his head a touch in acquiescence. “But you are also beholden to an apprenticeship under his roof. Your continued presence is at his pleasure.” He gestures at her. “Yes, Filius would fight for you, the Potters would fight for you, but he is the Headmaster and at Hogwarts his word is law.”

Lily wants to stamp her feet. She settles for another round of pacing. “What’s your plan?”

Severus arches an eyebrow at her as she throws herself back into her chair as though she is a teenager.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Lily argues. “I know you didn’t invite me here without having a plan.”

Severus huffs. “I concede that I could withdraw from my apprenticeship and refuse to do this, but there are other considerations.”

“Such as?!” demands Lily.

“He is not incorrect to believe that a spy in the enemy camp would be beneficial,” Severus states quietly. “Hogwarts remains open only because Dumbledore controlled the narrative of the bludger attack and Wilde’s condition before either could be leaked to the press.”

Lily sighs and folds her arms. “I will concede that a spy might be useful, but I don’t see why it should be you.”

“Who else can it be?” asks Severus dryly. “Black’s been slowly withdrawing from Dumbledore since Potter and his wife were proclaimed Knights of Avalon. Your boyfriend has similarly taken a step back. He’s rarely seen with his old school chums whereas they were once inseparable.”

Lily frowns. Severus is right, she realises. Between the time James spends with her, his friendship with Sirius, and the time they all spend with Harry and Hermione, James’ time with his fellow Mischief Makers has been reduced significantly. She knows he makes an effort to get together with them every week, but she has no doubt that before Harry’s arrival, James spent most nights with his friends.

“Besides, apart from Black, I doubt a Dark Lord would believe that anyone else around Dumbledore would defect to his side,” Severus meets her eyes. “I am the perfect candidate. From a pureblood line, disenchanted because Potter is courting you…it gives me a reason.”

Lily rubs her nose and concedes that point too, although there is one person who springs to mind other than Severus. “What about his creepy nephew?”

“Aurelius?” Severus blinks at her, his brow furrowing. “You find him creepy?”

Lily gives a mock shudder and nods. “Not that I’ve spoken with him much since he joined the staff,” she admits. “He keeps to himself.”

Severus taps his chin with his steepled fingers thoughtfully. “Perhaps Aurelius would be a suitable alternative but I suspect it is easier for Dumbledore to consider me as expendable as opposed to his own family.”

“You could suggest it,” Lily presses, tugging her cardigan around her again.

Severus tilts his head. “Even if Dumbledore allows it, it reduces our ability to know the intelligence except through what he would choose to share.”

Lily stares at him. “You want to do this.” She’s certain of it and it scares her.

“It’s not that I want to do this,” Severus counters calmly, “it is the only way I see to truly protect you.”

There is a simple sincerity in his voice which makes Lily believe him over anything else he has said.

She sighs. “So, what is the plan?”

Severus hums. He keeps his gaze pinned to hers. “I am cognisant that I might find myself in the same untenable position as my counterpart, torn between my masters and my friendship. I have no wish to ever harm you, Lily.”

Which makes sense if his motivation is truly her protection. Her agile mind immediately jumps ahead. “You want to take a vow of loyalty to me.”

Severus bows his head. “The exact vow would remain between you and I. I can play it off with Voldemort as something we did as children, and I believe Dumbledore would grudgingly accept it if we did it without asking him first.”

Lily swallows hard against the sudden lump in her throat. “A vow could go terribly wrong, Sev.”

“That’s the point,” Severus says. “If Voldemort insists I tell him something which would lead to your death or hurt you, I would die under the weight of the oath. I am prepared to accept the risk.”

She isn’t.

But Lily understands his reasoning.

“There has to be another way,” she mutters under her breath.

Lily casts her mind about to think of something only to find a poke of concern gently nudging at the bond she shares with Harry. She soothes his worry automatically even as the nudge gives her an idea.

“I want us to speak to Charlus,” Lily announces.

Severus startles like a rabbit in the headlights of a car. “What?”

“I’m under the protection of the Houses of Potter and Black,” Lily says briskly. “If we do this oath, it may have implications for them. Besides, Sev, Charlus is pretty savvy. He may have an idea which is better than ours.”

For most, Severus’ expression would read blank, but she’s known him since childhood and can tell that his response is a mix of displeasure, stubbornness to hold to his own plan, and uncertainty.

“If the goal is to protect me,” Lily says softly, “I think it’s best we make sure they know.”

Severus attempts to protest but it isn’t long before he wears the exasperated glower which usually accompanies his losing an argument to her.

Lily pulls his sulking form out of the room and back through the house to the Floo. She throws a handful into the slumbering embers and the green flames ignite fiercely. She calls Potter Hall and asks to step through with Severus to speak to Charlus.

Pobett, one of the Potters’ house elves, appears to inform her she has permission.

Within moments, she and Severus are stepping through the Floo and into the manor house. They’re escorted by Pobett to Charlus’ study.

Lily hides her grimace as she realises James, Sirius and Arcturus are already there. She would have preferred to have had the initial conversation with just Charlus, or maybe Charlus and Dorea. Severus is more likely to baulk if James is involved.

She raises her chin a touch as she ushers Severus in and reintroduces him to Arcturus.

James greets her with a kiss on her knuckles and a soft smile. His hazel eyes gleam with concern. “Everything alright?”

“Just a situation which Severus and I would like some advice about,” Lily demurs.

She sits beside James on the sofa beside the hearth. Sirius stands beside the chair opposite where his grandfather sits, and Charlus takes up his usual position in front of the fire as Severus takes the chair next to Arcturus.

“We’d be happy to help,” Charlus says cheerfully.

Lily looks over at Severus and gestures for him to begin.

His reluctance is painted on his face in the sulky turn of his lips and his fierce gaze, but he gives in if ungracefully with a huff and explains.

When he falls silent, there is a silence as everyone processes Dumbledore’s actions.

“Unfortunately, I am in no way surprised by Dumbledore’s abuse of your apprenticeship,” Arcturus begins.

Charlus nods. “I think the only surprising thing is how long he’s waited to do this.”

“Maybe he was intending for it to be me,” Sirius offers quietly. “My removing myself from his group may have swung his decision.”

“Perhaps,” Arcturus says, lifting the delicate porcelain coffee cup he holds in one hand, balancing the saucer in another, “but it is more likely that his original intention was to use both of you.”

“He may still try the same with you, Sirius,” Charlus adds. “Your employment at Hogwarts gives him a lever over you.”

Sirius does a one-shoulder shrug.

Lily thinks Dumbledore using Sirius is unlikely. Their Headmaster is a good tactician and drawing the attention of Arcturus Black is not something he wants to do, nor does he want to lose his History Professor and Lily has no doubt that Sirius would walk rather than comply with a blackmail attempt.

“On the face of it, having a spy is a good idea,” Charlus gestures across to Severus. “We are missing intelligence on the enemy camp.”

“I believe the same,” Severus says.

“Of course, I do not condone Dumbledore’s method of twisting your arm to get you to agree to it,” Charlus continues. “Spying should be a voluntary choice not a forced one.”

Lily sees Severus’ shoulders lower a touch at the assurance that Dumbledore’s actions are wrong.

“You said you intended to go through with this to protect Lily,” James leans forward, his eyes on Severus.

“Our time-travelling duo shared the fate of my counterpart when we met,” Severus admits tersely. “I do not want to make the same mistakes as he did.”

Both Arcturus and Charlus look confused, and James has a similar wrinkle of confusion in the centre of his forehead as he turns to her with a questioning look.

Lily clears her throat. “When Harry and Hermione met Severus they told him the history of their Severus Snape. He and my counterpart were also childhood friends but she went to Gryffindor and that Snape ended up in Slytherin.”

“Ah,” James winces.

“He fell in with the pureblood tossers in Slytherin and they fell out,” Lily says crisply, keeping her tone factual. “When my counterpart started courting with her James, Severus ended up a Death Eater. It was only when he realised Voldemort was going to target Lily that he asked Dumbledore for help.”

“And he promptly made him a double spy,” guesses James accurately.

Severus and Lily nod their heads.

“Apparently, my counterpart had previously shared the intelligence with Riddle which led to Lily being targeted,” Severus says tersely. “In the end, he could not save her and Dumbledore used his grief to have the man protect her son during his schooldays, up to resuming his role as a spy with Voldemort when the Dark Lord rose again. He died.”

“Hermione said that he ended up the slave to two masters, hating his life, and devoid of friendships,” Lily adds. “I don’t want Sev to end up the same way.”

“And I do not want you to die because of my actions or inaction because I need to keep a master happy,” Severus shoots back.

Charlus moves subtly, drawing their attention to him. “It’s a credit to you that you are thinking through the implications of what Dumbledore has asked you to do. I can’t say that the fate of Harry’s own parents doesn’t concern me with everything that is currently transpiring.”

“A vow is a good idea,” Sirius says. “It would help Severus avoid any action against Lily and if he got caught, the vow would help him escape any torture.”

“Well, that’s a cheery thought,” James mutters, shoving a hand through his hair in a way that Lily was coming to recognise meant he was frustrated.

“Spying is a dangerous game,” Charlus says sombrely. He looks across to Severus. “Are you certain you have considered all the implications of this decision?”

Severus’ dark eyes flash with his anger. “I have thought of nothing but!” He wrestles his emotions back down when she coughs deliberately. “I am not looking forward to renewing my acquaintances with the likes of Lucius Malfoy, but I believe the vow will help me circumvent my having to take part in anything illegal.”

“You should probably play up your potion skills,” Sirius suggests. “By all accounts from Harry and Hermione, Voldemort appreciated your talents there more than your brute strength as a wizard in attacks.”

“Dumbledore will also have ideas about what real intelligence you can share to help consolidate your position,” Charlus muses.

“That’s the real cost here,” James notes grimly, “and I can’t say that I’m happy that it’s Dumbledore making the decisions and pulling the strings.”

“Well, there may be ways to mitigate the impacts if we are aware of what is being shared,” Charlus says.

Severus blinks at him. “Are you asking me to be a triple spy?”

Lily doesn’t blame him for the note of incredulity in his voice. She’s a bit taken aback herself. “Charlus, I brought Severus here to try and find a better option.”

“Unfortunately I don’t see one,” Charlus admits with a chagrined look. “If Severus does want to decline, I may be able to find an alternative master for his apprenticeship, but that isn’t guaranteed.”

Severus nods. “I have considered refusing, but other potion masters are unlikely to want to take on someone who has already spent years studying under someone else. My initial tentative enquiries were not hopeful.”

“You’d also be dealing reputationally with the impact of Dumbledore dropping you,” James says.

Severus nods. “I am therefore reconciled to being a spy for Dumbledore.”

“Because it gives you the opportunity to protect Lily,” James deduces. He glances over to Charlus. “We are honour bound to help him in his protection of her.”

Charlus nods. “I agree.”

Lily almost sags with relief.

“Well, between us, we should be able to come up with a suitable form of words for the vow to protect you both,” Sirius says.

“With us aware of your predicament, we can also put together some exit and contingency plans,” Arcturus sets his coffee cup aside. “Retreat is an acceptable strategy if your life is in danger.”

Severus looks momentarily stunned. He slowly bows his head. “That would be appreciated.”

“Then it is decided,” Charlus declares. “We’ll help you with this spying escapade, Mister Snape.”

Lily catches Severus’ eyes and tries to mentally send him her inner plea for him to accept the help.

Severus’ gaze softens. He nods at her before turning back to Charlus. “Thank you, and in return I will share what I learn.” He glances back at Lily. “All the better to help protect you.”

Lily smiles at her oldest friend even as she tangles her fingers with James’ seeking the comfort of her boyfriend. She just hopes they can protect Severus enough to save him from his counterpart’s horrible fate, and she considers wryly, from Severus himself.

Continued in: Another Dimension: Part 2