A/N: Hey, yo, pips! Comic Con was up here last Saturday and I'm raging like a normal teenager because GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I WASN'T ABLE TO GO BECAUSE WE HAD TO WORK OUR ASSES OFF IN SELLING FOR 6 FUCKING HOURS NOT ADDING THE PREPARATIONS AND CLEAN UP.

Pairing(s): Theodore Nott/ Rose Tyler (I have no idea what could happen to them…)

Warnings: Meh, the usual stuff.

Disclaimer: Non, non, non, non~

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

They were in Potions when it happened.

Harry was in the process of crushing Valerian Sprigs to his potion (he's not really sure if it was really needed but since it was the only ingredient in arm's reach, he used it anyway) when someone knocked hastily on the door of the classroom, the one outside opening it upon the third knock and making a beeline to Professor Slughorn.

At the alarmed look the person—an Auror, maybe? His robes looked similar to what Kingsley and Tonks wore—had, Slughorn directed them to a spot just out of earshot and began what seemed like an argument. Harry seriously hoped they would have a fight.

Harry absently poured Flobberworm Mucus to his cauldron, ignoring the instructions both written on the board and his textbook. He didn't even know what they were making. Ooh, Granger's definitely sending him reprimanding looks but wasn't doing anything because Harry was pretty sure his potion was an utter failure. Well, who could blame him?

I can.

Your opinion doesn't count.

If only you would pay attention—

"Uh, excuse me for a moment, students!"

It seems the Auror(?) and Slughorn had finished their little discussion and now the professor mirrored the Auror. Pity they weren't arguing at all. Harry was disappointed and it showed on his face.

The two adults raced out of the room.

And, yeah, there might have been a bit more to what Slughorn announced but Harry was distracted.

Harry stared into the murky and violently swirling colors of his potion. What would happen if he were to add a few Porcupine Quills as well? Would the cauldron melt like the one Neville managed to do in their first year? Or maybe explode. He hoped it would because he was itching.

Voldemort was taking a long, long, long, long time. And did he already mention how long a time he was waiting?

Then Harry lighted the fire under his cauldron, dismissing the thought of adding whole Porcupine Quills to his already unstable looking potion.

Needless to say, it still exploded.

Huh, who knew that would happen? Definitely not Harry. Although, he did have the foresight to erect a shield around his cauldron. Somewhat. It was just a pain to clean up.

"Harry!" Someone hissed just behind him.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you should pay attention!"

Harry turned around from his blinking daze to see Hermione and Ron behind him, both sporting frowns of concern.

Funny how she just repeated what you said, Tommy.

Because you really do need to pay attention.

I resent that. I pay attention.

You don't, just ask Nagini.

Exegetics, Tommy, exegetics.

Where in Merlin's name did you get that word?

From a Thesaurus, Tommy, haven't you heard of it?

Do you even know what that means?

Uhh… no, damn. Fine! You win this time!

"Hey, 'mione."

"Don't hey me, Harry James Potter!" And there it is, the rage monster. "What's wrong with you today? You've been out of it since this morning."

"Yeah, mate," Ron observed him with uncharacteristic sharpness, "You don't normally make a mess as big as this."

Harry shrugged, mind still trailing after the letter from Voldemort. His excitement is currently unparalleled and distracting. Really, the minutes were dragging on too slow even for his tastes. Or Tommy's, apparently, if the grumbled 'too slow' was to be an indication of anything.

"Why are you out of your seats anyway?"

Hermione gave him another concerned look, "Professor Slughorn dismissed us early."

Harry frowned, "But we still have at least an hour left." And even that was a very, very long time.

"Don't know mate," Ron shrugged and helped him up, Hermione doing the same for his things, cleaning the mess he did.

Hermione sighed, "Let's just go, we can hang out in the library before we head to the Great Hall."

That decided, the three exited the classroom and made a slow walk to their destination, Ron and Hermione giving Harry concerned looks all the while when the black haired boy still seemed to be out of it.

"Where are they?"

Harry suddenly stopped, causing the other two to stop as well. He looked around the almost empty corridor, his green eyes scanning their surroundings.

"Who's where, mate?" Ron looked around as well to see what was missing.

"The Aurors."

"And the students as well."

And indeed, the corridors they have passed were all devoid of people other than a few stragglers here and there.

Harry looked out the window and saw something that caused him to let out a surprised but pleased sound that attracted the attention of his companions.

Hermione let out a horrified gasp, "…it can't be…"

"No…" Ron looked on with wide eyes.

"The Dark Lord…" Harry let out a grin, "took over Hogsmeade."

There has never been a most beautiful sight—well, no, not really—with the thick black smoke rising from where Hogsmeade was supposed to be, the Dark Mark looming over the slowly diminishing flames that ate at the little structures they could see from the window.

::It's time.::

The only warning Ron or Hermione had before falling unconscious were maniacally gleaming green eyes.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Horace Slughorn would always be someone you call a coward. Even he, himself, knew that. Although, one does have to admit, that he is very much cunning and clever, using his apparent weakness to his advantage.

And, well, he had made his mistakes through his short-long life, but never had he expected that that one mistake, failure, weakness would lead to this.

Everywhere around him was destruction, carnage, a bloodbath, Death.

He can't believe it.

He can't believe this.

Even with most of the Aurors in Hogwarts, even with the help of the professors, even with the help of the Headmaster, even with the combined efforts of all of them. It changed nothing. Because they were all simply too late.

No one was spared—no, it was better that way because no one can live through such horrors that this tiny village had experienced in the last few hours.

The once quaint little village that exuded life and merriment was now full of death and destruction. Fires were being put out by the Aurors, debris being banished to try and find at least one survivor but to no avail. And the bodies… oh, the bodies.

Beside him, Flitwick squeaked in horror, "Dear Merlin…"

"Merlin indeed…" Horace was sure he was as pale as the snow that should have surrounded them, "and we never realized…."

"We don't seem to realize anything now, do we?"

Horace looked at the old Headmaster that stepped up behind them; blue eyes dull with grief and sorrow. The potion's professor glanced back at the scene before him, resolutely ignoring the mangled and humiliated and destroyed bodies that littered the blood and dirt spattered snow. A small part of him was grateful that he wasn't anywhere near the village when it was invaded. But he didn't know if it was better than knowing of it too late and that precious time could have been enough for Hogwarts to be infiltrated.

Oh, he had no doubt it would happen. That was the main reason the Aurors were there in the first place. Because there was someone inside Hogwarts that would help those outside. That would help Voldemort. And the problem lies therein. They can't figure out who it was; if it was a student or one of the staff. Just the thought of a student hurting another was appalling, more so if it were a professor that hurt his student.

Voldemort—only Voldemort could do something like that. Horace wouldn't be surprised to hear if the monster killed his own kin and followers.

And to think- to think that he was one of the causes of that monster's prolonged life.

He was foolish—still is—but he needed to change. If not for himself, then maybe, for those he had failed and those he had yet to fail. He was sick of being a coward, of being foolish.

Horace gulped, "We need to put a stop to this, Albus."

"We do," Flitwick squeaked out determinedly though fear was still coloring his voice, "it's much too close to Hogwarts—to the students. We can't let this continue anymore. Many of our numbers has already fallen, two of them our very own students. Albus, we can't—"

Flitwick was cut off by Dumbledore's hardened yet hopeless gaze, "Tell me, my friend, how?"

Horace and Flitwick stood there, their fear temporarily abating for the confusion and incredulousness they felt.

"What do you—"

"I've done all that I could, Filius, and still…" Dumbledore gave a defeated sigh, "there's only so much an old man can do…"

Silence settled over them, only the sounds of the Aurors working around them breaking it but even then, it faded to almost inaudible noises. Horace felt his mouth dry at the implications the single statement made Dumbledore can't be—

"You can't—" Horace was mildly surprised to find that it was him that spoke but he gathered all the courage and determination he had left and took a deep breath. "You can't just give up like that, Albus. This is the fate of the Wizarding World we are talking about. You have managed to hold your own against You-Kno—Vol-Voldemort in the second war… and you still can. Albus, you're the only one Voldemort fears."

Horace stared down the wizened old wizard, forcing the other to understand; they can't give up now. Because if Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard since Merlin, gave up, then that is equivalent to the Wizarding World losing hope. And that is something Horace is not willing to do. Not anymore.

"I fear," Dumbledore gave the two professors a dull, but twinkling gaze that made Horace hope, "that I may not be able to do as much as I did before."

And that was what they were hoping for.

"So I will need all the assistance you could give—even the students."

Flitwick made a disgruntled noise, "But Albus, they're still children."

"I am aware," Dumbledore looked uncomfortable at his own decision, "but I'm afraid it must be done. Voldemort—" Dumbledore tutted at their flinches but continued on, "—has become even more vicious than before, and we must always have our guards up from now on. The children—the next generation has the connections and the abilities we once had but unable to do now."

Before they could say anything else, an Auror approached them just as the others were departing hastily.

"Sir! It's—Diagon Alley has been reported to have been attacked!"

Dumbledore's gaze became heavier on them, "Mars, I believe, is burning with brightness. What say you?"

Horace shared a glance with the half-goblin beside him and without a word, the two apparated away and into another battlefield that they hoped they could give a hand to stop. The students will be fine as long as they're in Hogwarts. For now.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Sirius was dozing on the cleanest couch he could find in the dusty and grimy Black estate that was a bane of his childhood when Remus came rushing in and hauled him off his ass.

Sirius blinked blearily as Remus dragged him out of number 12, "Wuzzat?"

Seeing the grim look on the werewolf's face, Sirius sobered up.

"Dumbledore called for us."

And wasn't that a good wakeup call? "Where?"

"Diagon Alley."

Sirius cursed under his breath and changed their positions. He dragged his long-time friend and immediately apparated as soon as they were out of the wards. They landed just outside the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, heedless of the Muggles milling about.

They made haste in entering the dingy pub, wands at the ready and eyes darting around, their muscles tense in case of an attack.

Once they stepped foot inside the pub, unknowingly activating a set of wards put up specifically for them, intense silence washed over them. The pub was empty, save for the upturned tables and chairs scattered around the room, and there was even some broken glass ware but there were no stains. Nothing. Everything was still, so, so very still that even the barest of movement could be heard clearly.

"Something's not right."

Sirius looked around wildly, past experiences from the war directing his mind and body, "And that isn't good, either."

There was a clutter near the counter and the two men whipped around, hexes and curses at the tip of their tongues but stopped when they saw a figure sitting on the counter. A very familiar figure.

Sirius almost choked, "Harry? What are you doing here?"

Harry—or who seemed to be Harry because his godson does not have a red eye—just blinked owlishly at them.

"Me?" Harry shifted so he was sitting cross-legged on the counter, "I don't know, do you?"

Sirius glanced at is companion only to see the werewolf gone and immediately beside Harry.

"Harry, what are you do—never mind," Remus fretted and his green eyes scanned the small teenager, "we have to get you out of here, there's—"

Harry shifted away from Remus, "An attack, yes, I know."

Why wasn't Remus suspicious about this at all? Didn't he remember Harry was supposed to be at Hogwarts, safe and protected?

"Remus—"

The werewolf just sent him a look as if saying he knew what Sirius was thinking and that whatever he was thinking was so utterly wrong. Except that maybe what he was thinking was supposed to be the truth. Unless the Headmaster had declared the school year 6 months too long and suspended any more classes without Sirius knowing it.

And then suddenly, as if a snake waiting for its prey to relax, Harry flicked his wrist and ropes sprung up from behind Remus and bound him tightly and quickly, causing his body to fall backwards with a thump. Sirius was not able to do anything than twitch before he felt his body freeze up, as if cold ice suddenly wrapped around him—or maybe it was fear?

Because he remembered where he heard the description of one red eye and similar looks to Harry or, in this case, Tom Riddle. Dumbledore had shown it to the Order; the charismatic young man Voldemort had been before he went insane. The resemblance to Harry was noted but not much.

He had red eyes. He looked like Him but younger.

Molly mentioned that before. But Sirius chose to ignore the fucking resemblance. It was just a resemblance.

"Hullo Sirius."

Sirius forced himself to calm down and, sure enough, his body was free of any jinx or hex, leaving him free to move around. He merely gave a snarl, grey eyes darting from Remus to his friend's captor, not knowing what to do.

"Who are you?"

But Sirius cannot deny the uncanny resemblance this boy had to his godson. Even the long, tangled hair was there. He chose to ignore he faint scar on the boy's forehead; it might have been a trick of the light.

A grin slowly stretched over the boy's mouth, exposing his white teeth, "Have you already forgotten about me, Sirius?" The gleeful look immediately vanished to be replaced with a look of sorrow that Sirius would recognize a mile away.

Sirius glared, hands clutching his wand in warning, "You're not Harry."

The grin came back tenfold and the boy jumped down from the counter and skipped his way to Remus' dazed frame. Sirius tensed but not willing to be the first to attack, he had his pride. It clearly wasn't because the boy looked so much like Harry (and he would never ever hurt his godson).

"Oh, but Remus knows." The boy crouched beside Remus and lightly tugged at the man's hair. "Don't you, Remus?"

Remus blinked, green-amber eyes showing his confusion, "What do you mean?"

The boy smiled widely, "That I'm Harry."

Remus blinked again but took a sniff in the air, as if to confirm something—the scent, probably—and nodded, "You are." Then he turned to Sirius, "If you don't untie me now, Padfoot, I'll make sure Molly knows you don't take care of yourself at all."

Sirius just looked at the werewolf in disbelief. Why can't Remus see that the boy was playing with them? And how could that boy be Harry when his godson was in Hogwarts, enjoying his time with Ron and Hermione? Sure, the boy looked a lot like Harry, but that doesn't mean he is Harry. And Remus should know that. Remus was the most logical of them so the werewolf should realize just how the boy wasn't Harry. Unless his friend was under a curse.

Sirius turned to glare at the grinning teen, "What did you do to him?"

The boy giggled, slowly rising up, and raising Sirius' hackles even more, "How can one be so stupid."

Sirius growled and flung the first curse he thought of at the boy that dared to call him stupid. The long-haired boy simply dodged the curse with grace many his age didn't have.

"See, he's being stupid, Remus."

"Sirius, stop it!" Remus struggled to sit up with the ropes binding him, "Why are you trying to hurt Harry? Are you out of your mind?!"

"Can't you see it?" Sirius shot back angrily, stopping his assault to turn to his friend, "He isn't Harry! He's trying to trick us into thinking he's Harry, but he's not! Have you already forgotten the reason we're here in the first place?"

"What do you mean he's not Harry?" Remus retorted just as angrily and Sirius didn't understand why. "He's Harry! James' son, your godson, my cub! I would recognize his scent miles away. You've gone off your rocker, Sirius! And we would have been able to go on to Diagon if you just let me go!"

Silence settled over them as Sirius snarled quietly.

Then it was broken by a giggle that soon turned into a full-blown laugh, "Dear Merlin, who ever thought it would be this fun to watch them argue."

Sirius raised his wand again, unheeding of Remus' words, but before he could utter another word, he felt his body stiffen and then he couldn't move. With a panicked look, Sirius glanced to Remus only to find the other man at the same state as he.

"Well," The boy clapped his hands delightedly, "as much fun as it is to watch the two of you fight, I want to get a move on. Sights to see just outside the passage way, you see."

Sirius felt the trickle of fear as the teenager levitated Remus' prone body on to the counter. And Sirius noticed, with great horror and fear, how the boy—Harry, a small part of his mind corrected but he ignored it—had not once used a wand*. No one but Dumbledore and Voldemort were ever seen to have accomplished wandless magic, and even then, Sirius knew of how exhausting it was to try.

"Now, shall we start?"

And then Sirius felt as if he was doused by oil and lit afire. He tried to scream but found that he can't. He panicked and felt pain—pain—pain—and then—everything stopped and Sirius felt like he was floating. Floating and floating, he tried to cope from the pain and he managed. He thought it would feel better after he adjusted but just found himself feel trapped.

It was unpleasant, not at all like the Imperius Curse, but Sirius quickly found out that the effects were the same when his body moved against his own will. He can't even feel his body moving, just the air stinging his eyes as he refused to blink was the sign that he is, indeed, walking over to the teenager.

Harry pulled out a jar of something from his baggy pants, "Do you know what this is?"

Sirius didn't even know how to reply as he struggled to a find a way to take control over his body back. He could feel something binding him—trapping his conscious.

"I take it you don't." Harry grinned and Sirius watched as his hands accepted the offered jar, "That's powdered silver."

Sirius was confused. Why would Harry have a jar of silver?

"Now, go to that werewolf and pour it on him, then in his mouth. Also, make sure he ingests it."

Fear settled into Sirius as he watched his body make its way to the still form of Remus. Sirius tried and tried to relinquish the control the teenager had over his body, panic, adrenalin, and fear for his dear friend fueling his attempts. None of those seemed to work, though and Sirius feared and panicked and tried valiantly to make his hand drop the opened jar of silver.

Closing in on his friend, Sirius just saw the flashes of emotions—anger, confusion, fear—and—Remus' eyes bled into amber as Sirius removed the lid off of the jar he was holding.

Sirius tried. He really tried, but he was slowly realizing how futile it is. So with resignation—anger, sadness, apology—Sirius gathered all the Gryffindor courage he had in a last attempt at escape.

He concentrated. Searching for his magic through his feeble knowledge of occlumency, Sirius struggled.

Where is it—where is it—shit, Remus—I need to—

And then he found it.

Sirius felt his magic. And it was absolutely wonderful.

But his concentration was slipping so with as much effort as he could, Sirius gathered his magic and, not knowing what to do, blindly pushed it at the foreign something that kept hold of his consciousness.

He pushed.

It went a bit out of control but he forced it to bend to his will—

And pushed.

Tired—he's starting to get tired. That isn't good. But for Remus—

And pushed.

He's starting to—no! His magic—he could feel it slowly draining—

And then he was free.

Sirius gasped in shock and he crumpled down on the ground with a pained cry.

He lay there, panting, as he waited for the pain to fade away. But it was taking so long and he wanted to see if Remus was fine. So, taking a deep breath, Sirius shifted so he could look for the werewolf.

Giggling resounded eerily around the otherwise silent room.

Sirius tensed and reached down his pocket for his wand, mentally sighing in relief when his hand grabbed the slim piece of wood. He sat up, ignoring the phantom pains his body was suffering through.

"I have to say," Harry clapped, grinning widely. "You have an admirable, eh, willpower."

Sirius stood up shakily, elatedly noticing that his body was exhausted and aching, using a chair to help himself up.

"Y-yeah," Sirius winced as he heard his gravelly voice. What is with his body? He can't have been affected that much. "And I'll have to guess that you don't have as much of will as I do if you admire mine."

Sirius took satisfaction over the fact that the boy lost the grin.

"Hmm," Harry was blank faced and his eyes were closed. "Admirable as it may be, but I'm afraid you took your time." And the grin was back.

Sirius, paling at the implications, looked around and saw, to his horror, the jar of powdered silver empty just beside his—

"REMUS!"

This set off another set of giggles but Sirius ignored it as he forced his body to move to Remus' side, stumbling over some of the obstacles on his path. He let himself fall down gracelessly beside the body of his friend.

Remus' face was burned by the silver and Sirius wanted to look away from the horrifying sight but he forced himself to look down.

"You know," started the devil, "it's your fault for being too slow. You wouldn't have made him ingest silver if you hadn't taken a long time from breaking through my control. Not to worry, though, I'm sure Remus would blame you for his death. I may have prevented him from hearing things before you ended his life."

Sirius wanted to shout how it wasn't true, how it wasn't his fault. His face twisted in anger and he hardly felt the tears falling from his eyes. He wanted to curse the being behind him, he wanted to take revenge. But he couldn't.

It was your fault.

It was your fault, Sirius.

He could clearly see Remus' scarred face, looking at him in anger and betrayal just beside James and Lily who looked so disappointed in him.

It's your fault we died, Sirius. If you weren't stupid enough to—

You're no good as friend, padfoot—

And here I thought we could trust you—!

No! No! It was Snape. Yes, it was all Snape's fault. If that sniveling, greasy git hadn't been so easy to fool, Remus wouldn't have been in this situation. See, it wasn't his fault. It was that Death Eater Snivellus. He was only doing what he thought would be a brilliant prank. And that git had hurt Lily, too, so it was all justified, right? It wasn't his fault. It wasn't. It wasn't it wasn't itwasn'titwasn'titwasn'titwasn'titwas—

It was his fault.

Everything.

Everything was his fault.

Yes, Sirius. It was your fault Remus died.

It was your fault my parents died.

Sirius unknowingly let out an animalistic howl.

"That's right, Sirius Black. Blame yourself. They all died because of you. You killed them. If only you were someone else—if only you weren't a Black. We all know, don't we, that the Blacks are a rotten lot? You're no different."

Sirius was sobbing and clutching his once friend's body close to him. He's right. Harry's right. And his mother was right. He was a Black. And all Blacks turned out to be a bad lot. He was the same.

"But, you know what?"

Sirius, through the haze of pain and loss and anger and hurt, struggled to understand what the other was saying.

"I think there's a way for them to forgive you."

This caught his attention but he was in too deep.

"I may even forgive you, for everything that you did."

And, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how he knew where this would end—and it wouldn't be a good end, everyone made sure of that—hope sprung up Sirius' eyes, swimming around the pain he felt. He knew where this would end. And he knew it was also the only way for James and Lily and Remus and Harry to forgive him.

"Just one spell, Sirius. You know what to do, right?"

Sirius gulped and nodded. Shakily grabbing his wand, he pointed it to himself and closed his eyes.

"Avada Kedavra."

And—

Nothing happened.

Sirius blinked, staring down his wand emptily. He felt hollow. He felt tired all of a sudden. It was as if all his energy was sapped out of him.

A giggle distracted him from his examinations.

"It seems we won't forgive you, Sirius. Don't you want to apologize to my parents? To Remus? To me? Why can't you even give your life for those you love?"

"I-I-"

Sirius felt his muscles becoming heavier and heavier and his wand clattered down the floor.

"But I guess," Harry picked up the fallen wand. "You thought your magic would be enough for our forgiveness. See, Sirius, even your magic blames you; it left you alone, so appalled it is to what you did."

Sirius started to see dark spots and he knew he was close to losing his consciousness. He prayed for oblivion. He wanted to die. But even that, he was too tired to do. And maybe—maybe—

"Kill me."

"Hmm?" Harry plopped down on the floor in front of the fallen man. "Pardon?"

"Kill me, please. Now. I want to die."

There was a silent moment and Sirius could feel himself losing consciousness and hoped the Harry would deal with him while—

"I don't think so."

He felt something being pushed past his lips and liquid trickled down his throat, the hand massaging it forcing him to swallow reflexively. And he shot up straight, fire travelling around his body, forcing him to be awake. But he felt no less hollow.

"I want you to suffer, Remus does, too, just look at him. Why you thought it was a good idea to force him to eat silver, I have no idea. And death would be a mercy, no? So, you see, I had this idea of turning you into my pet until I lose interest in having something following me around. Or until Voldemort got sick of looking at you, which would probably be a few hours… oh, well."

Sirius remained silent and sullen, despite the steam coming out from his ears from the pepper-up potion forced down his throat.

Harry continued to babble about anything and nothing at all and Sirius simply sat there.

His mind was blank. He had been so sure that he wanted to die. He still does, mind you, but he can't. His magic was gone, drained out by his own stupidi—no, it was done to save Remus. A whole lot of bull that did. He has still killed his friend.

"Why?"

Sirius looked up from where he was staring at the body of Remus and stared into those green and red eyes that simply glowed with insanity.

Why?

Why did James die? Why did Lily die? Why Harry?

Why did he kill Remus?

Why did Remus die?

Again. "Why?"

He was aware he was repeating the question again and again but he could care less.

Why was he a Black?

Why was he even alive when his friends, his family, clearly wasn't?

"Why?" The teen before him grinned widely. "Because we're family, right? You said so yourself."

Family?

Right. Harry is still alive. His godson is still alive.

That removed a bit of the hollowness and Sirius clung to it like a lifeline. He hated the feeling of being hollow.

"Really?" Sirius' eyes shone with almost childlike innocence. "We're still family, after what I did?"

The grin on the boy's face grew wider and more sinister. "No. Not after what you did."

And Sirius felt himself shatter like broken glass.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Oh my God, it's been a long time! I am so so so so so very sorry (no, I'm not). My beloved (not) USB got infected by a virus, making me unable to even see what's inside it and I ain't a techy enough geek to know what to do so I ended up rewriting the entire chapter while juggling with school work and… sickness. Yeah, too much stress made me prone to headaches. But I can't miss school so I seriously had to push myself. Tests are a monthly thing here, by the way.

*Yeah… I actually forgot if Harry is legit with wandless magic so chuck it up to the runes he had all over the place if it was too powerful.