Welcome back, dear readers, to "Infinity Keeps Me Alive"

Let's be friends.

Convergence

Hermione was a good friend, and good friends were more than worth a couple of galleon... or a few dozens.

For the birthday of his bushy-haired friend – and old best friend – Harry had consecutively owl-ordered an expansive book on spell creation, a feat way above many N.E.W.T. level. wizards and witches. He wasn't expecting her to produce anything in the immediate future, but she would surely be able to provide a few useful spells by fourth or fifth year.

And because he wanted all of his friends to get along, he'd also bought another present on behalf of Theodore and put it on his bed. He wasn't worried about Neville, Tracey and Daphne, they would have remembered the date on their own and bought gifts themselves, but his roommate didn't even know about the Ravenclaw's birthday – nor would have remembered it if he had known in the first place, he was that scatterbrained.

The aforementioned wizard had barely walked in their shared room, obviously returning from his morning shower, when he froze mid-step, eyes glued on the wrapped book.

"Harry? What's that?" he asked, gesturing at the intruding object.

"A birthday present." replied the time traveler, completing the covering on his own gift.

"It's not my birthday." deadpanned his roommate.

"No, it's Hermione's and that –" explained Harry, pointing at the package. "– is your present."

"Oh… all right."

Okay, that guy was way too accepting for his own good.

Between that and his severe curiosity, Harry was beginning to fear for his life.

"What is it exactly?" asked Theodore "I don't want to be surprised by something that I supposedly bought."

"A tome about Wizardry Customs. Not that agreeable to read, but informative nonetheless when you want to know why the society's so rotten."

Theodore was gawking at him now, probably wondering who could be cruel enough to offer something like that as a present.

"Don't look at me like that, she loves that kind of stuff."

"… if you say so." hesitated his friend.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou."

An extremely surprised Theodore received an armful of brown curls on top of a very happy witch. He returned the hug awkwardly, unsure if he was supposed to blush or run away from the clearly insane girl.

Standing next to a smiling Tracey, a smirking Daphne and an amused Neville, Harry playfully mouthed 'Told you.' to his embarrassed roommate.

Finally, it had taken almost five weeks of constant nagging, but Hagrid had eventually talked about Sirius.

Harry had first frightened him, describing a recurring nightmare of blurred cries, high-pitched laugh and bright green light that he absolutely hadn't had recently. Then he'd guilt-tripped the half-giant by talking of the crying yet smiling man and the flying motorcycle that he sometimes saw in his dreams.

It had been enough for the poor Keeper to burst into tears and empty his bag about that fateful night.

The young not-so-young wizard had basically done the one thing he despised more than Voldemort… he'd manipulated his friend. He wasn't particularly proud of it – more like utterly ashamed of himself – but now he had an excuse to raid the library and look into the Black family.

If he remembered correctly, Hogwarts had a book about the Most Noble and Ancient Houses that acted in a similar fashion to the Black tapestry. He would locate it, and unexpectedly discover that he had, through his grandmother Dorea Potter nee Black, a distant cousin in the person of Nymphadora Tonks, seventh year student in Hufflepuff.

After that, asking Sprout if she could arrange a meeting between him and the cousin he didn't even knew he had would be a cinch.

More manipulation, yay!

The only drawback he could see to the entire thing – other than the guilt – was that it would officially confirm that he was related to Draco.

"I'm sorry for your loss." smirked Nathaniel.

"Thanks." replied the wizard.

Like he'd predicted, talking to Sprout had been easy. He'd just had to smile and politely ask if she could introduce him to his newly-discovered relative. He hadn't expected to be invited into the Hufflepuff's common room though.

"Wotcher, Harry!" called Tonks, walking out of the badgers' female quarters.

"Huh… you too."

His cousin smiled and dropped in a comfy chair. Probably for the best, she would likely manage to break something by accident if she kept on standing, clumsy as she was.

"So, you finally remembered your favorite cousin?" she asked. "After five weeks, I was beginning to think that you didn't want to see me."

"Sorry Nymphadora, but I don't remember you." apologized the wizard. "I only just found out that I still had relatives in the Wizardry World."

Under other circumstances, the witch would have yell at him for using her first name. But her baby cousin looked so sad and his admission was so unexpected, that it didn't even cross her mind.

"Oh… how did you find me then?"

"In an auto-updating book of the Most Noble and Ancient Houses I found in the library."

"But… my mother was disowned." said the stunned witch.

"The book doesn't seem to care." smirked the time traveler.

His honed reflexes weren't enough and he got crushed in a bear hug. In fact, he was seriously wondering if the Metamorphmagus hadn't enhanced her muscles just for the occasion. He was pretty sure that he'd heard one of his ribs break.

"I'm so writing mom about that." beamed the girl.

While she had previously sported the distinctive Black hair, she was now displaying her happiness. Harry was amused to note that she looked like a totally different person with bright blond hair.

"Whoa, what happened to your hair?" he exclaimed himself, not supposed to know about her abilities yet.

"I'm a Metamorphmagus." proudly explained the witch. "I can change my appearance at will, just need to concentrate."

And for the next minutes, she demonstrated various applications. Aging herself one moment, making impossible faces the next, even turning into McGonagall.

Harry whistled, impressed.

"Must be useful to sneak around after curfew." he commented, knowing full well that she'd broken the thing to kingdom come on a fairly frequent basis throughout her entire schooling.

"Harry, how can you even suggest that? I would never do something so reckless." she replied scandalized, before smiling maliciously. "But I know for a fact that some Slytherins are doing it regularly."

"As long as Filch doesn't come across himself, I think you're safe."

"Oh, never thought of that one."

"You're welcome."

The witch laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Hey, don't do that." he complained.

"Sorry, sorry." she apologized, obviously not meaning it in the slightest. "Anyway, Sprout said that you wanted to talk about the Black family?"

"Not all of it… just one man." replied the wizard, face darkening.

"Sirius." whispered Tonks, clearly uncomfortable. "Who told you about him?"

"Hagrid."

She sighed.

"And what did he tell you exactly?"

Alright, time to lay it on thick.

"That he was working for Voldemort." growled Harry, not even caring if the name was freaking out every single Puffs within hearing distance. "That he betrayed my parents and killed fourteen innocents, including another one of his supposed friend, before the Aurors managed to apprehend him and throw him in Azbakan."

"Basically everything then." observed his cousin. "Want to hear what my mother told me?"

He nodded stiffly.

"That he was innocent and probably framed by a Death Eater."

"I guess she didn't truly knew him then." snorted the wizard.

"They were cousins, Harry. They practically grew up together." insisted the witch. "And were you aware that Sirius did a runner when he was in school and went to live with your grandparents? He loved them and he loved your father, they were brothers in all but blood."

"Doesn't mean anything. It was a war, it changes people."

"Not so suddenly… not without so much as a warning."

"Why are your still defending him?" asked Harry in feint rage. "He's a mass murderer and a traitor, he's not worth it."

"HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?" she shouted, seriously pissed off and hair blazing red. "HE'S FAMILY!"

"So is Bellatrix!" argued the wizard.

"Don't you dare compare them." she threatened him. "Bella was trialed in front of the Wizengamot and proven guilty, Sirius didn't even have that luxury."

Harry froze, seemingly at a loss for words. His mouth tried to articulate, but no sound came out of it. Finally, he blinked and his face turned colder than stone.

"He wasn't questioned?"

"Not once." confirmed Tonks. "They said that the proofs were overwhelming and left it at that. Mom tried to initiate a legal proceeding, but her disownment prevented it."

The time-traveler marked a pause, pretending to think about what he'd just heard.

"I know that I'm not strictly speaking part of the Black family –" he began. "– but I'm pretty damn close, plus I'm a victim here. So if I was to ask for a proper trial, in front of witnesses…"

A sudden intake of breath was everything he needed to know that, one, she knew where he was going with that reasoning, and two, she was gullible enough to buy his act. He was usually humble, but he deserved a god-damned award for that performance – and several slaps for the deception.

"They'll have no choice." completed the witch. "You're the Boy-who-lived, a national hero. They can't refuse you anything without causing an uprising."

"That bloody fame will finally count for something then. I'll work on a proper letter immediately." said Harry, rising from his chair. "And Nymphadora… I hope for you that your mother's right, because I won't just ask for Azkaban this time… I want the bastard who deprived me of my parents six feet under."

And on that cheerful – and one hundred percent truthful – note, he left The Sett.

Slytherins were, always had and always would be, opportunists.

It's quite understandable then that, with Harry Potter out of the common room for over an hour now, the more traditionalist students – read Voldemort's minions in training – decided to gather around a lone table to complain and plot against the annoying first year.

Their discussion had started in hushed tones, but had soon turned into an angry rant. Many complained that Potter had nothing to do in their House, even stating that he was soiling it by his mere presence. He was soft and on the side of the Light, which was beyond insulting.

Some also believed that the boy had cheated, and bribed the Sorting Hat into calling him a parselmouth, simply to make himself seem more important. He was vain and enjoyed his fame, Professor Snape had been clear about it.

The most vehement of the lot was clearly Draco, who was frequently claiming that he would make his mortal foe pay his disrespect. None of the others were actually listening to him though, because while Malfoy senior was clearly a powerful man, the son was nothing but an arrogant and useless prick.

"Hey, why can't we just kill him?"

Scratch that, he was arrogant, useless AND stupid.

"What?"

"He stopped the Dark Lord, he must pay for that." continued the blonde pounce, quite pleased with himself for his wise comment.

"Are you mental?" growled Miles Betchley. "We kill Potter, and then what? Dump him in the Forbidden Forest? If he disappears entirely, they may think that he was a coward and fled, but if they find the corpse, we're just creating a martyr. We can't have that."

"Just destroy his body then." huffed the Malfoy heir, clearly annoyed that he had to think about everything.

"With what? Bombarda Maxima? Fiendfyre?" hissed the elder Slytherin. "It's too damn conspicuous. No, we need him alive."

"What do you propose then?" asked Marcus Flint.

"We teach him a lesson, we teach them all… and one they won't forget." explained Betchley. "We just have to hurt him… a lot. Something permanent, that will debilitate him and show them that their precious savior –" he spatted the word. "– can't save them, because he can't even protect himself."

His proclamation received appreciative nods and a few vicious smirks.

"Should we do it tonight?" asked Terence Higgs.

"Tomorrow evening." reasoned Flint. "If he's attacked during a school day, the teacher will know immediately and it'll narrow down the list of suspects. If we wait until Wednesday to corner him in this very room, not only won't it reaches the professors until Monday morning, but the entire student body will be suspected. We just need to say that he came back looking like that and we're in the clear."

"Won't he go to the school nurse after his accident?"

"With the spell I have in mind, he'll be too busy screaming."

"But what if he snitches?"

"He won't, too bloody noble for that."

The plan was accepted and they began to work on the details, closing their sinister meeting a few minutes later.

Sad thing with Slytherins was, in addition to being opportunist, they were extremely inattentive sometimes and had a tendency to focus on the bigger picture, only to miss crucial details.

In a shaded corner of the room, a dark-skinned first year rose from his seat and discreetly left the room.

Harry wanted to shout in frustration, but Irma Pince was so much scarier than most Death Eaters that he instead resorted to cursing softly as he trashed his fourth attempt at that bloody letter. It was proving quite hard to be menacing yet somehow respectful at the same time, like a proper pureblood.

"Potter."

The reincarnated wizard looked up and spotted Blaise Zabini, calmly walking into the library.

"Zabini? What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you." answered his roommate, before pointing to an empty chair. "May I?"

"Huh… sure." replied the time traveler. "What can I do for you?"

"I'll get to that, but let's first talk about what I can do for you."

Harry frowned.

"I don't like you Potter… I don't really dislike you either, but you're an unknown variable." admitted Blaise. "You're a parselmouth, your reflexes are exceptional and from what I saw of you, you always seem to know more than you should. You could lead the House, probably the school if you wanted to, but you're not even trying."

At that, he seemed to turn pensive, but his words gained a sort of angry undertone.

"I tried to understand then, what you could possibly be doing in Slytherin, but I came up blank. I'm sure of it though, the Sorting Hat sorted you with us for a reason that had nothing to do with all that social issues bullshit. You wanted to be here." he accused. "So here we are, you win. I admit it, I don't understand you."

It looked like the very idea displeased him greatly.

"What I understand though, is that you're wasting your potential. Doesn't mean that I have to."

So, he wanted to use him then?

Pretty bold move to just acknowledge it.

"I just happen to have overheard a rather captivating discussion in the common room, that you would no doubt find quite fascinating yourself. I'm willing to trade."

"And what would be considered motivating enough to convince you to part with that fascinating information?"

"I don't need anything from you… at the moment." smirked Blaise.

"A favor then." understood Harry.

"Indeed." confirmed his fellow wizard. "I give you this information, you owe me one. I collect it whenever I please… not on anything illegal, of course. At worst, it will be a gray area."

Wasn't all that reassuring.

"And if your little story proves to be useless?"

"Then you'll owe me nothing and I'll owe you one."

Wow, he hadn't expected that one. If Blaise could actually declare this so easily, then he really wanted to hear him out.

"Magical contract?"

"Oath, we don't want to embarrass ourselves with paper trails."

Harry sighed, but nodded anyway.

"Fine, what do you know?"

Blaise smiled.

"Our dear housemates want to cripple you. I won't say more until you take that oath."

The time-traveler rubbed his brow tiredly, but knew that he had no choice.

"We both work on the wording. I don't want any loophole in this thing."

"That's acceptable."

Harry put a new paper out of his bag and they got to work. It took them close to fifteen minutes to make the thing biding enough and they proceeded to swear it immediately in a dark corner of the library.

"Higgs will ambush you tomorrow evening in the common room. Flint and Betchley asked him to amputate your wand hand." finally revealed the Zabini heir, satisfied with their agreement. "It would greatly diminish your magical abilities and the Light would lose her Champion."

For any other eleven years old, that news would have been terrifying.

Harry just took it in stride.

"He'll have to use a dark spell to prevent a possible recovery." he speculated. "Preferably one that will cauterize the wound, if he doesn't want me to die of blood loss."

"A torture spell then… Fiery shackles might work." offered his roommate.

"Hmm… probably not, they would need to overpower the spell to cut through the bones."

"Vitriolic flare?"

"More likely… I can think of a few more, but they can't possibly know them." replied Harry, mentally rehearsing curses that had yet to be developed by the resurrected Dark Lord.

Blaise sent him a look that was clearly asking 'How do you know about them then?'

He thankfully didn't press the issue.

"Anything else I should know?" finally asked the time traveler.

Receiving a negative answer, he smiled.

"Excellent. Now, if I may, I have one final question for you. Would you consent to keep to yourself anything you may learn in our room? Today or in the years to come?"

Blaise didn't even hesitate about that one.

"If you and Nott do the same."

"Triple-binding oath?"

"Obviously."

"Good, let's get to it."

The two Slytherins left the library and began to walk back to The Pit. They needed to locate their roommate and proofread the new oath that would make a sanctuary out of their living quarters.

"So, we're good now?" asked Theodore.

"We are." assured Harry. "We can't tell anybody else about what we may witness in this room and can't even speak about it to one another once out of here. The oath will affect anything that is deemed important enough to warrant that secrecy, may it be by one, two or all three of us."

"So if I tried to tell Tracey that… huh..."

"My stuff is always spotless because a house-elf cleans it?" offered Harry.

Silence fell on the room…

"WHAT?" shouted Theodore after five good seconds of complete paralysis. "But that prefect girl –"

"Only said that we couldn't bribe or threaten them into helping us. I went to the kitchen and asked if an elf wanted to help me. Loophole was happy to oblige."

"Loophole?" asked Blaise with an appreciative smile.

"Well, his name is Loopy but I really wanted to place that joke."

Theodore stared at his friend, wondering if he was serious. Ultimately, he decided that asking wouldn't be worth it.

"Right… so if I tried to tell Tracey about Loopy…"

"The oath would enforce itself, making you babble. If you don't stop after thirty seconds, it will start to suffocate you. Once you run out of breath, you die." deadpanned Blaise.

"Unless we all agree to it, or something actively tries to force the secret out, by mean of a potion, spell, physical violence or psychological torture." added Harry. "In the first case, Tracey would still need to be in here. In the second, the oath would just mute you."

"And for other means of communication? Writing, miming and such?"

"Generalized paralysis."

"Sounds pretty safe... anything else?"

"One thing." replied the time traveler. "Ever heard of Legilimency?"

"Mind-reading, right?"

"More or less. The oath's useless against it, you'll have to practice Occlumency and get some mental shields up. I'm already working on it myself, by the way."

"And you're rubbish at it." teased Nathaniel, left on Harry's bed.

"Thanks Nat."

"And he doesn't need the oath because?" asked Theodore.

"He's already bounded by dozens of other restrictions, and have neither hands nor wand to cast an oath anyway."

"Those are good reasons."

"Right?" smiled the time-traveler. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to speak to our door."

Not letting them enough time to react, he crossed the distance separating him from the entrance and hissed as he knelt before it.

[I need your help.]

His roommates almost jumped when the snake motif engraved on the doorknob hissed back.

[Is it time?]

[Not yet, tomorrow. Warn the others.]

[At once, Speaker.]

In a swift motion, the engraving seemed to slither out of the handle, leaving it in favor of the door itself. From there, it dived straight to the ground and disappeared under the panel.

"Wow… creepier..." whispered Theodore.

Harry rolled his eyes.