After almost two months, I finally got around to writing this chapter. Life was a little chaotic and left me with less time to write, but I got a clearing where I could write this without messing with my other story. Yippee.

This story reached 2k follows, yay! It amazes me that any story I've written, let alone the second one I've ever written and the first HP one, could get this many. I truly appreciate it.

Anyway, here's a new chapter.


Harry made his way to the Room of Requirement, wanting some time to himself.

Halloween was today and he wasn't wanting to have to tolerate any looks of pity from anyone in the Great Hall, having had a greater disdain for it as he got older.

As a child, he didn't think anything of Halloween, not truly understanding why practically all students, regardless of blood status, celebrated it. Nor did he understand the looks he received on that day, assuming it was just the normal looks he received as the Boy-who-lived.

The muggleborns and most half-bloods did because it was Halloween, the Purebloods because Samhain was a time to remember the dead, the reverence and respect they had for their ancestors was the chief motivator behind them raising a fuss constantly about making it more muggle friendly. It never failed to make him laugh when he would intentionally push Daphne's buttons about that topic.

But as someone who looked back at those memories with a more mature eye, he realized those looks weren't of curiosity.

They were looks of pity.

Pity was neither needed nor wanted by him. Pity was for the weak and it was his lack of critical thinking that got Sirius killed, it was his naivety that allowed Pettigrew to get away instead of letting Sirius and Remus kill the rat, or at least break the bones in his legs so he couldn't flee.

So instead of subjecting himself to the looks of pity by some, and pining looks of a few girls that noticed how well he had filled out over the summer, shudder the thought, he decided to not go to the hall, telling his friends that he was going to talk with Sirius through his mirror because of the effect of the day on the older man.

Not even Hermione suspected a lie, despite her being more perceptive about his change in behavior.

He made his way to the kitchens and reached out to the portrait that was its entrance, tickling the pear lightly.

The portrait swung open and he announced his presence to the house elves, the gaggle of magical creatures excited at him being there.

He'd been here a few times over the last few weeks, including the first time this year when he needed an alibi for discovering the Room of Requirement.

Dobby was always more than willing to help him.

Requesting some food and receiving quite a bit after he gave a short explanation on how sad he was today and wanted to be alone to his thoughts, Harry managed to get the armful of food and exited the kitchens, levitating his bounty so he didn't drop anything.

He walked up towards the Seventh floor and was about to pace back and forth in front of the entrance to the room, when a familiar voice sounded out behind him.

"Trying to slink away, are we, Harry?"

Harry flinched and fought the urge to turn sharply, not wanting his concentration to waver on levitating the food. He managed to keep it mostly steady, although it was a challenge.

He slowly turned around and saw Daphne, her arms crossed and an expectant look on her face.

The weeks after Sirius' trial was a little awkward for them, mainly from what transpired just prior. But it was fine afterwards and they went back to developing a friendship from DA meetings and Harry tutoring her on Sundays in how to use some more advanced defensive magic.

Harry looked at her with a slightly judging look, tilting his head downward to peer at her over his glasses. It never failed to amplify the effect he wanted.

"I'm not in the mood to be looked at on this day," He replied, pacing in front of the Room to get the door to appear, "You're welcome to join me."

He kept his eyes on hers, waiting for her to answer. Eventually, she sighed and nodded, her hair shifting with her head.

"The muffin is mine." She said simply as she walked past him, grabbing the floating article of food and taking a bite.

Snorting at her love for muffins, Harry walked into the Room of Requirement and requested a blanket on the ground, almost like a picnic.

Daphne laughed when she saw Harry set the food down on the ground.

"Was this all a plan to have a date?" She asked jokingly, her eyes alight with amusement.

"Yes," Harry said said sarcastically, playing along, "I decided Halloween would be the best day to have a date with you because I'd be so sad and you might kiss me to make me feel better."

"One," Daphne said, holding up a finger, "It's Samhain. Two, you're going to have to do more than give me a sad look to get a kiss."

Harry smirked at the first part, knowing Daphne preferred the wizarding world's version of Halloween instead of the muggle kind.

"I'm sure your company is all I need to feel better, Daphne." He said, sitting down by the blanket and organizing the food.

Daphne rolled her eyes good-naturedly and sat opposite of him, reaching for another muffin.

Harry lightly slapped her hand to stop her, making her pull her hand back.

"Really?" She huffed.

"There's plenty of food that isn't muffins," Harry said, before reaching for the treacle tart, "Touch this and I'll never forgive you."

"What is it with you and treacle tart?" Daphne asked flatly, "It's good, but is it really that good?"

Harry grabbed some and took a bite, not breaking eye contact.

"Better than muffins."

Daphne narrowed her eyes, refusing to see reason.

"Then I'll just need to convince you of your error." She said softly, leaning forward and grabbing some actual food to begin eating.


"My father has offered an invitation to you and your godfather to discuss things around the New Year." Daphne said, having finished most of the food she was willing to eat.

She and Harry had probably been here for over an hour, just talking after they finished eating.

Despite the rather abrupt nature of this meeting, she considered it to be the best so far. The food was excellent, the room was comfortable, and the company was even better.

"I'll need to run it by Sirius," Harry admitted, looking completely at ease, "But I don't see any reason why not."

Daphne smiled, pleased with the response. With her starting to learn some more practical use of magic from Harry to defend herself, combined with the political weight her father would have from having House Black and Potter as allies, she felt like a great weight was taken off her shoulders.

"Has my company been good, Mr. Potter?" She asked intentionally shyly, batting her eyes for effect.

She smirked when she saw his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, before the grin she associated with him hiding his true thoughts appeared on his face.

Gotcha.

"Well," He said, dragging the word slightly in thought, "I can't say I'm displeased, Mrs. er Ms. Greengrass." He corrected himself swiftly, his face twisting into a frown.

Daphne almost giggled at the slip up. Was her mock flirting good enough to actually cause him to almost call her Mrs. Potter? Looks like she got to him instead of him getting the better of her in their little game.

"But seriously," Harry's face then lost its playfulness, "This wasn't a good day for me, starting out, but you made it much more tolerable."

"Couldn't your friends have been helpful?" Daphne asked, genuinely curious about why he was planning on being alone.

"This particular day is different," Harry said grimly, "A day that someone's parents died is different and so is the date of when your entire life comes crashing down before they understood what their life even was."

Daphne was concerned by how Harry's expression had darkened at such a rapid pace, but he seemed to rein it in just as she started to get a little too concerned for comfort.

He took a deep breath before continuing, exhaling slowly.

"What makes this day worse is that it's also seen as a celebratory one," His eyes were more muted in how they almost seemed to glow, "Kids celebrate it because their parents celebrate it, and parents are happy to have the chance to be parents."

Daphne started to feel truly worried for Harry, especially with all the things that culminated in this moment.

Diggory's death. The Dark Lord. The public turning against him until several drastic measures were taken. It would affect adults, let alone someone their age.

"Ron doesn't really understand because he has a huge family that loves him," Harry continued, "And Hermione was encouraged by her parents to be excellent. So I'm practically adrift on having them to try and empathize."

"I'm not sure I'm any better equipped to emphasize," Daphne pointed out, "My mum and dad care about me. Astoria, even if she can be annoying, is loved by me and I'd never trade any moment with her for anything."

Harry seemed to think more intently, judging by the furrowing of his brow.

"Well," he eventually said, "You've been raised to be heiress to House Greengrass, yes?" He asked, even if it were unnecessary.

"Yes." Daphne replied, a leading tone in her voice as she raised a brow.

"I may not have known you for years on a friendly basis like Tracey," He started explaining, "But I think I have a good read on you."

At Daphne's expression of curiousity, Harry elaborated.

"You value traits in friends and allies that you yourself have in most cases. You're intelligent, ambitious, detest incompetence, and are fiercely protective of your family and its legacy."

Daphne was still surprised by how on point Harry was, even if she knew he had her personality nailed more so than most who didn't know her well.

"Are you sure you're not projecting what you want to see in yourself on to me?" Daphne asked to try and deflect from how close he was to unbalancing her.

"It's not that I wish to see part of myself in you, Daphne," Harry muttered, looking a little uncomfortable, "It's that I wish I had what you had."

Instead of asking for clarification, Daphne just waited for him to do so of his own volition.

"You know your place in wizarding society. Leeches and parasites knew from the very beginning that they couldn't prey on your ignorance, you knew from your earliest memories that your parents love you, your sister loves you, and you have practically everything you ever need to succeed in society."

"Are," She tried to force out, but she paused and cleared her throat, "Are you jealous of what I have?" She asked incredulously.

She'd told him a decent amount about herself, and he in turn, but she never thought for a moment that her telling him about her family would leave him longing for something similar.

"I wouldn't say 'jealous'," Harry frowned, "More like, hmm, I'd say envy?" He said questioningly, "I understand familial connections somewhat because of Sirius, but it's not the same as what you've had."

Daphne's gaze softened as she began to understand what Harry was trying to say, but couldn't seem to out and tell her.

She'd heard about how some muggleborns were abandoned by their families after it was discovered that they could wield magic.

Could Harry be like that?

Daphne decided to not press him. It was likely something that he would eventually share, but she didn't want to pull up some rather depressing memories on this day of all days.

"Let's talk about something else," Daphne requested, "If, well, you want to." She finished the last part with a little discomfort.

Harry looked to be in agreement and

"DA?" Harry offered with a relaxed expression.

Daphne thought for a moment then nodded. "That's sounds preferable."

"What do you think of everyone's progress?" Daphne continued, wanting to know Harry's personal thoughts about the different students that had improved over the last several weeks.

"I'm impressed with everyone's progress," Harry admitted, a rather pleased expression appearing on his face, "Neville has had the most improvement, and I'm pretty sure I know the reason." He said the last part with a knowing smirk.

Daphne tried to read his face for a hint, but she wasn't able to garner any possibilities.

"Keep that expression on your face and it'll be stuck that way." Harry smirk got a more playful look to it, causing her to scowl, "Not much of an improvement." He added.

Daphne decided to play along and flicked her hair and start playing with the end of a golden lock, before tucking it behind her ear.

"Do you really want to see me smile, Harry?" She asked, lowering her voice as she said his name, looking directly into his eyes as she smiled sweetly.

She fought the urge to widen her smile when she noticed his eyes widening minutely and the rapid blinking moments later.

"Y-yes," He managed to catch himself before he completely stuttered, but she noticed it got to him, "I would very much like you to smile. It sets you apart from all the other Slytherins. It almost deceives me into thinking you're a nice, sweet, and innocent person."

"Are you saying I'm none of those?" Daphne asked with false offense, raising a brow imperiously, "This will weigh heavily on the prospects of our alliance and friendship."

Your move. She thought. Harry seemed to be his old self, or more accurately the latest version of him that loved to play word games and was sure of himself.

"On the contrary," Harry replied clinically, "You keep those traits specifically for those worthy of it."

"Be blessed that I see that you're worthy of my mercy." Daphne said flatly, before her demeanor broke and she started giggling lightly.

Daphne eventually composed herself and looked to Harry with a little more seriousness.

"How do you think I've been doing so far? I want you to be honest with me. Don't sugar-coat it to make me feel better about it."

The practical lessons Harry had been giving her were difficult to manage and juggle when combined with studying and keeping notes for her OWL exams, but she needed to be prepared for what was coming.

"It helps that you're not what your beloved head of house would call an 'Uncouth imbecile'." Harry shifted his tone to mimic Snape's, causing Daphne to snicker.

"But yeah, you're doing extremely well in your shields spells and your casting speed," Harry continued, "You actually know what you're doing."

Daphne was pleased with the positive comment, a smile breaking out on her face. But there was something she was extremely curious about.

"Any idea when I'll be ready to learn the Patronus charm?" She asked the raven haired boy, noticing his expression twist into a grimace.

"Months." He replied simply, putting up his hands when she huffed irritably, "It's passed a NEWT level spell. It's extremely difficult to cast."

"But you managed it at thirteen." Daphne groaned, fighting the urge to tug at her hair in irritation, "You're supposed to be the above average Gryffindor, not a prodigy like Dumbledore."

"I'm a Gryffindor, I'm a halfblood, and I wear glasses," Harry rattled off, pointing at his glasses for emphasis, "What do you mean I'm not like Dumbledore?"

"I'm warning you, Potter," Daphne growled, pointing directly at his face, "This friendship and alliance will be over if you grow a beard like that."

"I don't need a beard," Harry rolled his eyes, "I don't have a weak chin and girls focus on my eyes more than anything else."

Daphne huffed at him mentioning his eyes, because he wasn't exactly wrong.

"Well, to be fair," Daphne said, glancing at the emerald green eyes in question, "They are a rather striking shade of green."

Harry smirked like he was thinking of something.

"Do guys focus on your eyes?" Harry asked, eliciting a slight amount of embarrassment from Daphne, "You are a rather pretty girl."

Daphne tried to ignore the heat starting to creep up on her face, but squashed it down.

"Don't think you can distract me with flattery, Harry," Daphne narrowed her eyes, "What did you do to manage a corporeal Patronus?"

Harry rolled his eyes exasperatedly, standing up from the floor.

Daphne stood up and winced from how hard the floor was.

"Didn't you use a cushioning charm?" Harry raised a brow, noticing her expression.

"I," Daphne paused for several seconds, realizing she really did forget, "Uh, forgot?"

"You've known about magic almost 4 times longer than I have, Daph," Harry laughed, his eyes alight with amusement.

Daphne frowned at the shortening of her name. Only Tracey and Astoria called her that.

"Don't call me that." Daphne said flatly, unamused by the smirk on the raven haired boy's face.

What was said next had her temper flaring in spite of her trying to keep herself under control.

"Would you prefer Daphy?"

In one swift motion, Daphne flicked her wand into her hand and cast a stinging he at Harry's face, missing when the insufferable boy tilted his head to the right.

"Which one told you that?" She demanded, her face flush from her anger, "Tell me." Her voice lowered into a cold tone.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked confusedly, almost convincing her that he didn't know what he was doing.

"Was it Astoria or Tracey that told you about that nickname?" She managed to grit out, her wand still in her hand to teach Harry a lesson.

"I just thought it would be funny because I watched looney tunes," Harry said hastily, "It's not like I knew you had that as a nickname."

"It's not a nickname!" She growled, pacing around and muttering under her breath.

Harry had his eyes on her as she kept muttering under her breath and trying to fight the urge to try and hex him, even if he could avoid most of them.

"I wouldn't think that being called that would make you this angry." Harry said with a polite tone, although he was still a little antsy.

Daphne turned and shot Harry an irritated look. "Astoria screamed 'Duck season' and threw a dungbomb at my face." She said coldly, her icy glare in full force when Harry started laughing loudly.

"This day is amazing now," He almost wheezed out, both hands on his knees as he was bent over laughing, "Duck season." he said to himself, "I'm kind of dizzy. Merlin, it hurts."

"I'm happy my infernal sibling gave you a good laugh," Daphne put her wand away, checked the time on her watch, and turned on her heel to leave, "But it's been quite some time. Thank you for the talk."

"Wait," Harry called out, walking towards her, "Before you go, do you want a few tips on the Patronus?"

Daphne stopped and turned back towards him, pondering for only a fraction of a second.

"Yes, I would."

Harry smiled and pulled his wand out, keeping his arm at his waist.

"Ok, but first, I have a question. If you don't want to answer, it's not a problem." He explained, looking at her questioningly.

"Depends on what it is." Daphne shrugged, wondering what the question was.

Harry didn't hesitate to ask. "How good is your Occlumency?"

Daphne blinked a few times at the abruptness of the question.

"My father deemed it good by an almost 16 year old's standard." Daphne replied with a raised brow, crossing her arms over her chest.

"That's good," Harry said, turning to look at the other side of the room, "Occlumency helps to stabilize a happy feeling."

"You mean memory, right?" Daphne couldn't help but correct him. She'd read the theoretical part on the Patronus, even if she struggled with the practical part.

"No," Harry shook his head, "It's not the memory that fuels the charm. That's something several people get wrong and it's possibly why several skilled witches and wizards struggle with it."

Daphne was staring intently at Harry, listening to every word he said without an ounce of distraction.

"What matters is the feeling you get from the memory," Harry continued, "I struggled with it because I was focusing on the memory and the details of the memory, not how the memory made me feel."

The blonde Slytherin furrowed her brow in thought, a grin starting to appear on her face when she made the same discovery Harry did.

"So a memory isn't even needed. Only the happy feeling."

"Yes," Harry said happily, pleased by the connecting of the dots, "I'll show you." Harry then lifted his wand up and turned his head to look directly into her eyes, "Expecto Patronum."

A flash of silvery blue light emanated from Harry's wand and a mass collection of silvery mist flowed out of the wand, forming into a massive stag that ran around the room in search of a target, before stopping and looking around after it couldn't find a threat.

Daphne felt the air seem to warm up, driving any chill she had from sitting on the floor from her.

"Wow." She marvelled at the wonderous display of magic that proved that Harry Potter was indeed a very capable wizard.

"You can feel it, don't you?" Harry asked quietly, standing right next to her.

This was different from the last time he showed her. Very different.

The stag walked towards its summoner and got within arm's reach of the two, and Daphne could feel the warmth turn into something else.

She couldn't help but compare how this warm sensation felt in the Patronus' presence was like. It reminded her of the last New year that her grandfather was alive. Her grandparents had visited them the same year Astoria was born. Even as a little girl, she could tell her grandfather was ill, but you couldn't tell based on the face splitting smile on his face when he held his youngest granddaughter while Daphne sat right next to him.

"I didn't know a Patronus could do this." She whispered, reaching out to try and touch it.

Her hand sank through the stag, but it left her hand feeling warm and tingly, almost like the opposite of a ghost floating through you.

The stag then seemed to look at her, but she assumed it was a trick of the light, before fading away into nothingness.

"That sensation is what you need to hold on to," Harry said next to her, causing her to snap out the trance she was in, "Sorry if I startled you. I know the feeling can leave you out of it."

Harry wasn't wrong about her being out of it. The feeling of warmth and safety had her thoughts floating like she were on a cloud. Even her Occlumency had slipped, causing her to feel it even more intensely.

"How did you do that?" She asked quietly, amazed by how it felt.

She looked up at Harry and saw his eyes flicked towards hers, a hidden depth to them she couldn't discern.

"One of the old tomes my family has said that a sufficiently powerful wizard casting a Patronus could replicate the feeling a dementor does, but with happy feelings and memories."

Daphne gave a rare smile that she reserved for her parents and Astoria when she was truly happy. She got on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Harry's cheek, causing the boy to flush slightly.

"Thank you, Harry," She whispered, backing away, "I need to get going, or Tracey will send a search party."

With that, the blonde walked out of the Room of Requirement, trying to stifle her racing heartbeat from what just happened.


Harry stood rooted to the spot, his mind lost in memories of what had been. What he had just done took a great deal out of him emotionally, but he wanted to thank Daphne for actually talking with him so he wouldn't brood about today like he often had.

That little trick he did with the Patronus didn't just require a large amount of power put into it, it also required a memory that surpassed happiness and bordered on transcendent joy.

He had to look at Daphne to get the feeling just right. The memory had been when he had proposed to her, and the words 'Yes' and 'I love you' were echoing in his head as he cast the Patronus.

Harry managed to pull his thoughts back into something coherent and he flicked his wand at the remaining food, disappointed that a lot had to go to waste. The house elves didn't exactly understand portion sizes.

The food vanished after he cast the vanishing charm on it, as well as the blanket he had conjured.

Thinking of what he wanted, a chair appeared next to him, which he sat in. He then pulled the two way mirror that Sirius had given him and muttered the word 'Padfoot' to it, and waited for Sirius to answer.

After a short while, the glass shimmered and revealed the face of his godfather, who looked a little off.

"Sirius." Harry said quietly, smiling at the older man.

"I was wondering when you were going to say hello." Sirius grinned, although it didn't reach his eyes.

Harry adjusted his grip on the mirror and looked more closely at the current Lord Black.

"How are you holding up?" Harry asked, knowing today wasn't a happy one for either of them.

"Remus is here," Sirius replied, leaning back and looking to his right, "But it's still difficult."

"I know," Harry said sadly, knowing full well he had lingering feelings of self hatred at what happened to Daphne, even if the rational part if him knew it wasn't his fault, "But you shouldn't ever blame yourself. And we're both alive. That's what matters."

Sirius tilted his head and raised a glass of whiskey in salute, before downing it.

"You're going to need a new liver before you're fifty." Harry said flatly, but Sirius waved him away dismissively.

"I've only drunk in moderation," He defended himself, "I'm not my father. I'd sooner become a eunuch before I'd marry a witch that's even remotely like my mother."

"Shudder the thought." Harry agreed, knowing full well what Walburga Black was like.

"But enough about my lack of sobriety," Sirius went on, fixing Harry with his silver grey eyes, "How have you been handling today? I hope you didn't find the firewhiskey James smuggled in from Uncle Charlus' stache." Sirius winced as he said that, "I wish I didn't tell you that."

"Fred and George found it last year," Harry admitted, "Good to know they got drunk off of my birthright."

Harry never knew that the firewhiskey the twins found was from his father smuggling it in, but it's not exactly surprising.

"They really do take after us," Sirius laughed, shaking his head as he did so, "Not surprising that they found it."

Sirius then addressed Harry once more about how he was handling things.

"Have you talked with Hermione and Ron?" Sirius asked, "I know you were a little cold early in the summer, but I know you made up with the two."

"I talked with someone." Harry admitted, not going into detail.

Sirius reacted by snorting derisively.

"I was best friends with your father for ten years, Harry," Sirius remarked, his gaze unwavering, "He got the same look when he was hiding something. Come on, out with it."

The last remaining Potter grumbled under his breath, but he decided to answer so Sirius wouldn't dig.

"I talked with Daphne in the Room of Requirement."

He'd told Sirius about the Room, telling him how he had found a decent amount of defense books that were from much older curriculums where they were better overall suited to defending yourself than the current ones.

"Are you sure that was smart?" Sirius raised a brow, suspicion lacing his tone, "I know I'm going to sound repetitive, and maybe it's because it's today of all days, but be careful around her. I'm sure she means well and the Greengrass' weren't the sort to be blood purists, but I... I'm just worried," Sirius shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, "It just seems too good to be true that we could have allies because of the title I ran from."

Sirius, despite being a normally upbeat and positive guy, had a rather pessimistic streak that was enhanced by what happened fourteen years ago, and it showed. Already, he was beginning to get antsy about an alliance with the Greengrass', but he didn't know about the offer Daphne made for them to speak during the holidays.

"Funny you should say that." Harry said, before explaining that specific part of the conversation. He wasn't going to mention any of the personal things.

Sirius visibly relaxed as Harry explained the details of that specific portion of the conversation, much to Harry's relief.

"But do you think she suspected this day would be difficult for you?" Sirius' skepticism reared its head again, "It's probably a coincidence, but I still worry about you."

"You can trust my judgement, Sirius," Harry assured him, "I'm not enamored with her like my dad was with mum. She is a friend, but I'm not going to do anything stupid."

Sirius nodded, albeit uncertainly.

"I sometimes forget you're not like me or James at fifteen," He sighed, "Thank Merlin for that."

The two then talked about a few different things, mostly about some of the things the Marauders got up to. The conversation seemed rather cathartic to Sirius.

Sirius bid his farewell and deactivated his side of the mirror, leaving Harry on his own in the room.

Harry stood up from the chair and stretched his legs, deciding enough time had passed where he needed to get back to the common room.

He walked out of the Room of Requirement, checking the Marauder's map before he went towards Gryffindor tower, just to make sure nobody was monitoring him.

He got to the portrait of the fat lady, said the password, and entered as the entrance swung open.

Giving a quick glance, Harry spotted Ron and Hermione sitting next to each other, a look of focus on Ron's face as he listened to what Hermione was saying.

"Your theory work is a little off," Hermione said, lacking any scolding about it, "But it is much better than normal." She then continued reading what Harry assumed was Ron's parchment, "There isn't anything that needs corrected. This is good."

Harry walked a little more loudly to get their attention, which worked as the two glanced towards him.

"How are you, Harry?" Hermione asked softly, likely trying to gauge how the conversation with Sirius went, "You were gone for some time."

Harry shrugged and sat down on one of the open seats next to them.

"Sirius was drinking some," Harry said vaguely, "You can guess how he was feeling."

Ron looked solemn and Hermione pursed her lips, knowing that Sirius above everyone else would take to Halloween badly.

"Were you able to talk for your own sake?" Hermione cut to the point, setting Ron's sheet of parchment to the side.

Leave it to Hermione to want Harry to be honest.

"Yes," Harry said a little flatly, being a little less patient after Sirius being uncomfortable about the amount of time Daphne was spending with Harry, even if they already talked about it, "And Sirius was very helpful. And Remus is there with him."

Hermione relaxed and muttered 'good' before taking out her own assignment to probably complete before the weekend. She didn't like wasting time.

Harry then glanced around, looking for Ginny. Spotting her in the corner, he walked over to her to ask her a question.

The youngest Weasley looked up with a questioning look, which Harry responded to.

"You have a dungbomb handy?" He asked simply, eliciting a raised brow from the girl, "I need to send a message to your brother's."

Harry assumed the two were up in their dormitory, probably working out some more skiving snackboxes.

Ginny rolled her eyes and got out of her seat.

"I'll get one from my bag upstairs. Just don't tell them you got it from me. I don't need them annoying me about stupid things."

Harry watched as she walked past him, disappearing up the steps to the girl's dormitory.

A moment later, she came back with a dungbomb levitating a foot in front of her, her wand out.

A few people raised brows at what they were seeing, with Hermione getting out of her seat with a tight expression.

"Ginny," Hermione said sharply, "I don't want to have to deal with this as a prefect."

"Hermione," Harry cut in, walking towards Ginny, "I'll confiscate the dungbomb," He flicked his own wand to summon the floating explosive, keeping it a few feet from him, "I'm a prefect too."

Hermione hadn't heard Harry request the dungbomb, so she didn't catch or care about the smirk Harry had.

The bushy haired girl sighed and turned back to sit down, relieved that she didn't have to do anything.

Harry, on the other hand, switched the levitation spell to his off hand by concentrating a bit, and twisted his wand counterclockwise with a flick at the end, conjuring a fake dog.

He then put a sticking charm on its back and dropped the 'present' on the area, flicking his wand again to order his creation to go to Fred and George.

The canine went up the steps towards where the Seventh year boys were at and Harry waited.

Moments later, he heard a muffled boom and two near identical voices swearing profusely.

Harry vaguely heard Hermione shout his first, middle, and last name, but he was too busy laughing to care.

Thing One and Thing Two came rushing down the steps, one collapsing to the ground, coughing profusely.

"I'm going to kill you, Harry." Fred gritted out, his eyes watering from the smell.

Most of the Gryffindors currently in the common room pointedly ignored what was going on, not wanting to get in the middle of anything related to the prank kings of Gryffindor House and Harry bloody Potter.

"It wasn't me." Harry defended himself, his wand already back in his sleeve.

"Bollocks," George managed to cough out from the ground, "Nobody else conjures a dog like that."

Harry had given an example of how transfiguration could be used effectively in a duel during the latest DA meeting, including animated objects that took the shape on animals.

"Fine, you got me," Harry admitted, "But I found something out today."

Fred pulled George up, who was still coughing somewhat. Based on how bad George was hit, the dungbomb probably detonated right next to him.

"Remember that firewhiskey you drunk and you woke up naked in the quidditch stands?" Harry looked at Fred, whose face was as red as his hair.

"And you woke up stuck to a toilet?" He then looked at George, who still looked nauseous.

"What about it?" Fred demanded irritably.

"That was my grandfather's," Harry said in mock despair, "You got plastered with my birthright."

The two scowled, Fred waving his wand and muttering 'Scourgify' to get rid of the smell.

"You're an arsehole, Harry." He muttered, dragging George up the steps.

"I know you were working on those snackboxes." Harry pointed out, causing both Fred and George to shrug.

"So?"

"I'll keep this up if you keep testing it out on the firsties. Just don't let anyone test them unless they actually know what they're signing up for."

The two Weasley gave twin scowls, but they nodded and went back up the stairs, muttering about what air freshening charm would work best.

Harry then shot a grin towards Hermione, who looked positively livid.

"Why?" She asked flatly, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

"It solves the issue with the first years." Harry shrugged, casting a charm to get rid of the smell, the light from his wand a pale violet.

"You did it to get back at them." Hermione accused, huffing in annoyance.

"You're just jealous that I'm a better prefect than you." Harry snickered, promptly rushing towards his dormitory before Hermione could say a word.

Harry walked towards his bed after his initial burst of speed and collapsed into it, lazily waving his wand and muttering Tempus.

"6:37." He moaned, not even getting under his covers, "I'm already dead to the world."

The day and the conversation with Daphne took its toll on him and he wasn't in the mindset to complete his assignments like he usually did before the weekend.

I'll do it tomorrow. He thought to himself, taking off his glasses and rolling over on his stomach, still in his robes.


The imposing fortress of Azkaban had been constructed centuries prior as a maximum security prison for individuals that were far more dangerous than their muggle counterparts, if they could even be called that.

With so many isolated souls ripe for the picking, it was with contemptuous ease that the Wizengamot at the time negotiated with the Dementors that plagued Wizarding Britain to stay there to harvest the emotions and despair of magicals that were seen as less than savoury to society.

But now, none of the infamous history of the construct mattered to the one formally known as Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Voldemort sneered as he swam through the icy waters surrounding Azkaban, not taking any risk of using overly advanced magic that would give away who really would break in.

As he was now, he was an apex predatory; something that was unmatched. But he never forgot what he once was.

Weak.

A snake could be crushed by the foot of a forewarned opponent, so they learned to be crafty and concealed themselves. He had been forced to use his intelligence more than his raw power when he first began his rise to power, only being able to let loose when his power bloc was strong enough to engage in hostilities.

But the second time around had already shown disappointments.

His irritation and anger at the lack of competence displayed by Lucius had him subjecting himself to this farce of a plan that had him forgoing magic like a filthy muggle.

The loss of his first horcrux had him practically apoplectic in fury. A part of his soul, his Self, had been destroyed because of a spat Lucius had with a penniless blood traitor that wounded the Malfoy's pride.

Not even breaking a few of Lucius' bones, only to forcefully heal them, helped calm his rage.

The rain was at least not striking him, given that he was under the water and had a bubble head charm surrounding his head with air. But, the constant motion of him swimming, even if he had apparated and flown just outside of the ward line under the ocean, had his thoughts going to the thing that prompted him to ask Lucius about his diary in the first place.

The loss of the Black seat was an unfortunate complication, especially because of Potter, and by extension Dumbledore, potentially having another means to delay his victory. Such a thought had him thinking of his most loyal servants, especially Bellatrix.

Devoid of sanity she may be, but no other among his inner circle had the power and skill she did. She was the one he trusted with a horcrux, and the thought of her family seat going to Dumbledore's control was a situation that had him thinking of the diary and his cup.

After an unknown amount of time, he reached the foundational rock that Azkaban was built on and lifted his head out of the water, scowling as he climbed up on to the beach.

He wandlessly silenced his footsteps and cast a disillusionment charm on himself before going further.

The customary chill brought on by the dementors would have been almost debilitating had he not encountered a ritual years prior that renders one immune to its effects. A steep cost was required, but it kept his mind clear.

Like a serpent stalking its prey, he got to a drainage point near the outermost west side of the fortress, with magically reinforced steel bars to keep anything human from sneaking in or out.

A pity that they seldom learn. So far, his plan had no complications at all. He was almost insulted at how easy it was. Either he was that much better than the best and brightest in Wizarding Britain, or they were truly incompetent.

He'll go with the former.

He shifted into his animagus form, a cobra, and put something that had been in his pocket into his mouth, before slipping through the bars without any issue at all, refraining from changing back until he'd cleared through the drainage pipe and got to the first level of the fortress, which was the most heavily guarded.

Tasting the air to try and check for any guards, he detected no fresh scents and shifted back, reapplying his concealment charms as he picked up what he had been carrying.

A moleskin pouch with a sophisticated enlargement charm on it, anchored by a rune drawn with his own blood.

He reached in and pulled out a small container of a certain liquid, popped the cork off, and drank the potion.

He hissed at the taste, repulsed by the viscosity and flavor. He felt his physical features change and he shrunk several inches, along with his wand hand slowly retracting and vanishing.

He didn't need a mirror to know that he now perfectly resembled Wormtail, the meer thought of that fact repulsive to the man.

He held his wand in his left hand, which he then flicked at the stump of his arm, conjuring a temporary silver hand that he could conduct magic through almost to the level of a flesh and blood limb. The silvery liquid shaped itself into a hand at his command and then sealed itself to the stump with a slight hiss.

Satisfied, the Dark Lord slowly crept to where he knew the Auror station was that housed the warden, knowing the dementors recognized him and wouldn't attack the entity who promised them fresh souls to feast on. It was very fortunate that his loyal servant, Crouch Jr, gave him all the knowledge he had gathered over the time he had been in Azkaban. This operation would not have been possible without him.

Without it being a distraction, he switched wands, needing to before what he was about to do.

As he crossed a corner, he spotted an Auror and set things into motion.

The man was carrying a bucket of stew, probably for the maximum security prisoners, and was shocked still by the sight of someone he didn't recognize.

Voldemort swished the wand he had in hand in a certain pattern, each movement flowing into a generic spell chain.

The spells struck the man and he keeled over, unconscious. To make sure the spell was on the wand, Voldemort cast the Killing Curse while reining in its power to a massive level so as to not make the back wall explode.

As the green light of death careened over the unconscious man's head, Voldemort turned to his next destination, knowing the curse flashed against the wall without leaving a mark.

As he quietly walked to the next corner, he conjured a mirror with his own wand and levitated it at an angle to see if an Auror guard was at the door.

As it turned out, there was one.

Reshaping the conjured mirror into a thin blade of glass, Voldemort flicked his wand and stepped around the corner, banishing the projectile at the Auror.

The Auror had barely reacted to the sight of him by the time the blade struck him, sending several inches of conjured glass through his throat. Voldemort then rushed forward, his steps still silent, and cast a weak levitation charm on the man to prevent the sound of him hitting the ground from echoing.

The man was still alive, but the fact that his vocal cords had been destroyed made sure he couldn't scream for help.

"Such a pity that you serve the ministry." Voldemort said with a false tone of regret, plunging into the man's mind for a select few memories.

The Occlumency shields the man had were already in a state of self destruction from his rapidly approaching death, but all it did was make the process slightly faster.

The man eventually succumbed to the wound and probe, his killer standing above him with a sadistic grin.

Voldemort then reached towards the body and pocketed the wand, wanting to use it for later.

He then flicked his wand at his own face, putting a glamour on it matching the current man.

It would only need to hold up for a few seconds, if even that.

He walked passed the floating corpse and pressed his wand to his throat, modifying his voice to sound like the man he had just killed. The door to the warden's office required the man to grant entrance, unless one planned to overload the defenses with destructive spells.

Legilimency was a boon when one needed to know what someone's voice sounded like without hearing them speak.

Voldemort glanced down at the wand clenched in his hand that wasn't his own, curling his lip distastefully at the sight and feel of it. He then reached out with his left hand and pounded against the door with a thunk.

"Sir, it's Hastings." Voldemort said in a youthful voice, smirking as he said those three words.

"What is the code word?" A muffled voice called out, sounding irritable.

"Grimbold." Voldemort replied.

At the confirmation of the pass code, the warden called out again.

"What's it about?"

"I think one of the prisoners is dead."

A swear of profanity and the clattering of something falling was heard before Voldemort felt the hum of magic on the door vanish, meaning the defenses were temporarily deactivated.

Without hesitation, he opened the door and saw the warden of Azkaban standing up from his chair, looking at him speculatively.

"Hasti-" Was all he got out before Voldemort struck.

"Avada Kedavra." Voldemort flicked the wand like a whip, his arm a blur of motion.

The jet of green light struck the warden and snuffed his life out in an instance, his body collapsing back into his chair like a puppet with it's strings cut.

Voldemort walked briskly towards the desk, glanced at the sightless eyes of the man, and pushed the chair and body aside with a wandless banisher.

He looked down at the desk and saw what could have been mistaken for a paperweight at first glance, but was actually the ward stone for the security around the cells.

The stone was picked up and Voldemort could feel the thrum of power in it, making his fingers tingle.

Glancing down at a sheet of parchment that had the names and cell numbers for prisoners, he looked at the most familiar of names.


"Hello, Bella." Voldemort whispered, gazing from within the cell that housed his most trusted lieutenant.

He decided he would give her a pleasant wake up and pressed on the Dark Mark by focusing his magic to let her feel it burn her lightly.

The woman bolted up from her bed and grabbed at her arm, her eyes alight with joy.

"He knows," He heard her whisper, "He knows I have been loyal."

"Indeed I do, Bella." He said with a dangerously soft voice.

The raven haired woman jerked her head towards where she heard his voice and her eyes widened impossibly large at the sight of him.

"Master," She said with near transcendent bliss, almost not believing it to be true, "You came for me."

"I have." Voldemort nodded.

He stood only a few feet from her, having slipped through the bars in his animagus form for effect.

To think Black had the presence of mind to do it after so many years of exposure. Wormtail said Black's form was incredibly large. He likely starved himself to get out. A pity he didn't side with me.

Sirius Black was a waste in his eyes, just as much as James Potter. Both were skilled and intelligent Purebloods from old and illustrious lines, but sided against him.

"Now come, dear Bella," Voldemort flicked his hand and opened the cell, having already deactivated the defenses, "Let us free the others."

Bellatrix marvelled at the open cell door, turning to look back at him with unmatched gratitude.

The two exited the cell and Voldemort guided Bellatrix to the warden's office, ordering her to sit down.

The woman pushed the warden's corpse out of the chair and sat down.

"Now," Voldemort said, fixing his servant with a no nonsense look, "I will free the others and bring them here." He then pulled out a small bottle out of his pouch.

"Drink this, it is Dreamless sleep." He tossed the dose of potion Severus made to Bellatrix.

Bellatrix caught it and looked at it for a fraction of a second before she drunk it, and her eyes seemed to sag and her body slumped forward, fast asleep.

"Always so trusting." He murmured, leaving the room to gather the rest.

The next several minutes had him freeing his servants and killing two more Aurors with the wand that wasn't his, ensuring the plan was a success.

After he had freed them all and stunned them before they were even awake, Voldemort dropped several portkeys he had made on their unconscious bodies, beginning to enact his final stage of the plan.

The Dark Lord reached into his pocket and pulled out the most important piece of the puzzle to ensure it was believed by a majority of the people that he wasn't the one that did it.

The unconscious form of Peter Pettigrew, in his animagus form, was set on the ground without much care. Voldemort then stepped away and, with his own wand, forced Pettigrew out of his rat form.

A quick enervate brought Pettigrew back to realm of the living and his eyes flew open.

"W-where." He tried to say, not knowing what happened.

Without any hesitation, Voldemort pointed his wand at his servant.

Imperio.

It was pathetically easy to overwhelm the rat's will, nothing like Potter, even as a 14 year old at the time.

Pettigrew stood still and Voldemort pressed Pettigrew's wand, which he had used to kill the guards and stunned the one, into his hand. He then summoned the still floating corpse of the Auror he killed towards him with his Yew and Phoenix feather wand.

Ensuring that he was positioned right, Voldemort stepped to the side and pulled out the Auror's wand from his pocket, casting several stunning and disarming spells at Pettigrew.

His servant did as instructed and deflected them with a few shield spells, and still followed the order to not block the piercing hex aimed at his femoral artery.

The pale, silver bolt of light struck true and an arterial spurt was visible from impact. And Voldemort knew he had to be quick, for time was of the essence.

Voldemort pressed his magic into the ward stone by pressing his wand tip to it and triggered the anti apparition and portkey wards to have an emergency shutdown, which triggered a prison wide caterwauling charm to sound out in a ghastly howl. He threw the stone across the hall and into the room, letting it hit the floor, followed by him dropping the wand next to the Auror's body.

Voldemort then had Pettigrew quickly fling several blasting curses all across the hallway in a near deafening boom that kept echoing through the fortress. One was aimed and hit the upper body of the levitated corpse of the first guard killed.

The top half of the Auror exploded in a mess of gore, which Voldemort ignored.

He activated the portkeys on his followers and they vanished in a flash to Malfoy Manor.

Rushing towards where he had entered through, Voldemort mentally ordered Pettigrew to start screaming like he had been wounded and the rapidly bleeding out man left a trail of red as he ran.

Shifting into his animagus form and slithering as fast as he could, Voldemort was ahead of his Imperioused servant, who was still leaving a trail of blood in his rat form, just as planned.

Voldemort got through the bars and shifted back, Pettigrew barely getting through before he stopped responding to commands.

He bled out rather quickly. Voldemort thought to himself, glancing at the ghostly pale corpse of his cowardly, but useful, servant floating facedown in the shallow water a few feet from the bars that he had slipped through.

Voldemort then apparated away, now that the wards underwent an emergency shutdown.


Perfect. Voldemort smirked as he watched his servants being tended to, having been awakened and force fed nutrition potions to begin the complex road to recovery.

He had gotten back to Malfoy Manor and he was reflecting on the last couple hours of the night.

The plan was a total success. His servants had been retrieved, Pettigrew had his wand with several spells on it that lined up with how the guards were killed, with one surviving, and the survivor spotted what appeared to be Pettigrew attacking him.

The blood trail led exactly to an area where a rat animagus could slip through and closed off any loose ends.

Pettigrew wasn't a gifted wizard, but Lucius was tasked with handling the news and political side of things. It would be stressed that Crouch Jr and Pettigrew may have met and plotted to break out the prisoners and Pettigrew simply followed through with it after Barty was kissed.

The son of a former DMLE Head, who had Imperioused his father, would easily be plausible enough of a reasoning for a wizard with such an animagus form as Pettigrew to be able to sneak around Azkaban and ambush a few Aurors.

But this plan only occurred as a second option.

The first would have been going loud and breaking them out at around Christmas time. But with the acquittal of Black, he could not be blamed.

But the second reason was less governed by rationality, and more so by simple vengeance.

Harry Potter caused him to lose his body. Harry Potter caused his plans to be forcibly reshuffled to get his servants out. Harry Potter was the one person he needed dead the most.

'Why else would Halloween be picked as the day to do this other than being a message to the boy?' Voldemort smirked cruelly.

"Even in victory, you know defeat." Voldemort hissed in parseltongue to himself, "Even in life, you have known only death."

A life bought by the deaths of his parents. A life prolonged by the death of another student.

If he believed in something greater, Voldemort would have found the sense of humour the being had in making such a 'Hero' be followed by the deaths of others amusing.

As Voldemort kept his watchful gaze over those he broke out, he whispered in an impossibly soft voice, visualizing a raven haired boy with green eyes.

"Happy Halloween, Harry."


End Chapter:

A major event occurs, courtesy of the changes Harry made, and it's pretty big. The Death Eaters are out early and Voldemort sends a message to Harry and Dumbledore by choosing Halloween as the date of the breakout.

I wrote the way Voldemort infiltrating Azkaban the way I did in part by thinking of two canon events that he did.

He framed his uncle by using Morfin's wand to murder his father and grandparents, managing to avoid Dumbledore realizing he wasn't at the orphanage as well.

And he was able to kill Hepzibah Smith and made it look like the elf was the one that did it.

Riddle was always described as uncommonly intelligent and was secretive about things almost as much as he was brutal in getting things done. He used a great deal of terror and political power to rise to power, and I wanted to showcase the part of him that is the quintessential snake of Slytherin house.

Unseen. Cunning. And Vicious.

And that's a wrap. I hope you enjoy the chapter and I'll try to not have a nearly two month gap in updates again. Cya.

Raging.