Ascension: Rogues of the Fallen Sun

by Define Anachronistic

(AU) After the traumatic end to his first year, Harry Potter is a man on the run, pursued by friends, foes, and forces unknown. But that's only the most immediate of his problems. Ancient monsters, Rogues, escaped convicts, and Witch-Hunters are all waiting for him over the horizon. His second year is shaping up to be even crazier than his first.

20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Christmas is for Forgiveness, New Year's is for Regrets

Harry was happy to report that his new state of mind didn't fade away in the following weeks like he had dreaded. Over the last few months, whenever he fell into a pleasant mood, it tended to disappear as soon as anything difficult occurred, and a small part of him feared that the same would happen after his trip into the Hollow. Fortunately, it did not, and Harry remained in a more stable state of mind than he had been in for many months.

He supposed it had something to do with not actually being happier at all. In fact, he felt a heavier weight settle upon him now that he had finally accepted the reality of what he had done, but he also felt more at ease with himself as he had abandoned the guilt that he had carried with him for so long. Quirrell had refused to forgive him, but Harry had forgiven himself, which meant that whatever had been broken inside of him, whatever damage had been done to his soul, had been repaired in a new different way, leaving the mark of murder, but making him whole once more.

At least, that's how Nicolas tried to explain it to him. All Harry knew was that he was now able to sleep soundly without the help of Phoenix song.

"I need to go back to New York," Harry said, as he and Nicolas walked away from Mei's home in order to activate their Portkey away from the protective Barrier around her home. "I need to make some things right."

Nicolas glanced at him. "If you're talking about the Werewolf boy, I already assured you that he made a full recovery before we even departed for Louisiana."

Harry frowned. "How? I was with you the whole time."

Nicolas winked. "Never underestimate your master, little Henry."

Shaking his head, Harry continued determinedly. "The Necromancer I met had a girl that he was…" he tried to find the word for it, but none came to mind other than, "abusing. I need to free her."

"I've already done so." Harry stared at him, and Nicolas smiled fondly down at him. "I thought you might wish to see it with your own eyes, so I made this for us." He removed a second Portkey from his pocket and held it out to Harry. "Remember your Warming Charm as you land. We are not bundled up enough for a New York Christmas."

Nicolas was true to his word. Together, watching from a safe distance so as not to stir up another fight, they saw that Ralph was already back at work, with his neck completely healed as he stored two pizzas at the back of his scooter before zipping off.

Harry's stomach twisted when he saw the memorials for the two Werewolves that his pursuer had killed laid out in front of the pizza place, but with Nicolas' firm hand on his shoulder he reminded himself that he was only partly to blame for their deaths.

He would make sure no one else was hurt the next time the Rogue came after him.

Jean's fate was rather melancholier than Ralph's. Nicolas had taken him to an underground bar, The Blind Pig, where they had met a contact of his, a grizzled Auror who had met the Alchemist while he had still been a young man. He told them that Malcolm Blake had already been sentenced to life in Azkaban and Jean had her soul released and her body returned to her parents.

Harry confirmed this with his own eyes the next day. Jean's family hadn't known of her death, only that she had been missing for almost a year, but when her body had been "found" by Muggle law enforcement, they had finally buried her in a graveyard in Queens. Nicolas had taken him there, and Harry had left the flowers he had bought with the others that covered her grave.

If nothing else, a Necromancer was in prison now and an innocent woman freed from her undead servitude, so at least something good had come from his trip to New York.

When Harry was finally satisfied that there was nothing more for him to do, he and Nicolas took the Portkey back to the Isle of Wight and to Brightstone House. It was only a week until Christmas, but Harry was too invigorated to go back to lazing around the house like he had done a fortnight ago when they had left. From the day of their return, he began his training anew.

The first couple of days were a little rough, as he hadn't trained in weeks and it took him a minute to get back into the swing of things, but once he did, he wondered how he had ever lived without it. Now that it was the dead of winter, he had tried exchanging swimming for running, but Nicolas warned that it would have an impact on his duelling reflexes. As such, Harry was forced to rely on a far too tight wetsuit and re-applied Warming Charms to keep him toasty while he swam.

"I don't know why you're making such a fuss," Nicolas tutted as he taught Harry a charm that blasted him with hot air and steam dried his clothes while he wore them, "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

It was clearly meant to be reassuring, but all that comment did was make Harry hunch over himself in embarrassment as he tried the Hot-Air Charm for himself. "Marum Aeris! Marum Aeris!" He tried to growl in annoyance when the spell refused to work, but his teeth were chattering too hard. "Just do it for me. I'm too cold to concentrate."

Nicolas did so with a complicated little wave of his wand, but only after Harry promised to study it in his free time. "The wetsuit doesn't even show any skin, and as for the shape of your body…well it's completely normal for a boy your age-"

"Stop. Talking." Harry's face was red from either embarrassment or anger that Nicolas wouldn't shut up about it. He seemed to understand that Harry was completely serious, so he made a show of locking his lips.

Once he had changed back into his previously unappreciated loose-fitting clothing, Harry decided to open his grimoire for the first time in over a month, hoping that the Hot-Air Charm would already be in there. While it was, he was surprised to find that it wasn't the only one. In fact, there had to be at least a dozen new, carefully illustrated and described spells in the grimoire that was visible to his eyes.

"Elemental spells?" Harry asked the second Nicolas opened the door to his laboratory. "You think I'm ready to learn them?" He hoped so, as they were a versatile and dangerous branch of Transfiguration.

"Hmm…ready is a strong word." Nicolas said diplomatically as he ushered Harry inside his lab for the first time. "Need is more accurate."

Harry was momentarily distracted by the cavernous room that he had found himself in. It reminded him a little of the Marauder's Headquarters but taken to the extreme. In the centre was a massive, glossy, well stocked potions lab that would have had Terry crying tears of joy. To his far right, there was a clear ritual room like the one that had belonged to Mei or Blake, and to his left there was a library of filled with hundreds of books that he clearly didn't want Harry getting his hands on.

It was impossible to think that this was underneath the house without him even realising.

Nicolas' last statement shook him out of his awe. "Need? What do you-?" Harry paused, coming to a realisation. "You actually watched my duel against Marcus?" He felt new a new wave of embarrassment fall over him. "I thought you just showed up afterwards to say I told you so!"

"I actually came to check in on you. You had me worried." Harry was touched, until he added, "But I was mostly so embarrassed for you. Your performance was rather poor, don't you think?" Harry, glaring, had to repress the urge to cover his face even though he could feel his cheeks beginning to burn for the second time that day .

Swallowing the urge to say something biting, Harry simply lifted his grimoire and asked, "Are you going to help me with this, or what?"

Nicolas had taken him outside for a demonstration. When they reached a certain point in the forest, Harry expected him to begin his lecture, but he instead held out his arm. "I'm not going to do a demonstration here. I live here!" Trying to not look deeply into what that ominous statement could mean, Harry gripped his arm and together they Disapparated away.

They Apparated near the edge of a cliff by the sea. There was a deserted beach underneath them, and grassland behind, without a single living thing in sight. It would have been a wonderfully picturesque little spot if it weren't the middle of December. The sand and grass were pale, as though the cold weather had drained the colour from them, and the sea was as grey the sky above it which was smooth with stratus clouds.

"Are we still on the island?" Harry asked. It would appear so to his eyes, but he wouldn't be surprised if they were standing on any of the coastlines in Britain with this weather. When Nicolas nodded, he asked, "Where are all the people? I know it's cold, but I thought there would be a surfer or a dogwalker or something."

"It's a private beach." Nicolas waved his arm around. "It's my private beach."

"You own an entire beach?"

"I own several."

"Why? Actually, forget that." Harry shook his head. "How? The Philosopher's Stone isn't real, you can't make gold that way."

Nicolas gave him an unimpressed look. "I've been alive for centuries, boy. If I could not amass a fortune in that time, then I am truly useless, aren't I?"

Harry stared him for a long moment, before guessing, "You're still living off Perenelle's money, aren't you?"

"For centuries, yes." Nicolas sighed. "But when it ran out, I had to invent the Automatons to keep my head above water. Now, if you are quite finished asking questions about my finances, we can begin our lesson." Harry gave him a go-ahead gesture, too amused to risk speaking. If he opened his mouth, then he was sure he would start laughing.

"Now then," Nicolas clapped his hands together, as though his enthusiasm would somehow mask his obvious embarrassment. "Let us begin with fire." Faster than Harry could blink, Nicolas drew his wand and directed it over the cliff's edge, and an enormous torrent of flames burst from the end and obscured his view of the previously dull scenery. As he watched through the gap in the arms that he had used to protect his face from the suddenly scorching air, the flames took the shape of a colossal dragon and flew down to the beach, setting the sand on fire.

"Fire isn't the most dangerous element, but it is the one that is most difficult to control." Nicolas explained causally as his flaming creation destroyed the environment around them. "It is the element of passion, rage and assertiveness, all good and useful qualities if properly tempered but if allowed to grow out of control it will bring nothing but destruction to everything around it."

"You're speaking about fire as if its alive." Harry stated. He tried to look at Nicolas as he spoke, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the dragon's destruction.

Nicolas hummed. "Well, it is in a sense. At least through us." Now that he was confused, Harry managed to look away from the flames and the glass it was creating to give his teacher a confused look. "You have been taught to control your emotions for spellcasting?" He waited for Harry's nod before continuing. "Well conjuring the elements is much the same. However, instead of relying on strict emotional control for your usual charms and transfigurations, or a desire for combat and victory for martial spells, you will require a different emotion for each elemental conjuration. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded slowly, as the enormity of the task that lay ahead finally dawned on him. "You're telling me that I'll have to make myself feel different emotions at the drop of a hat just to use different elements in a duel?" One of the reasons that he had thrived in spellcasting was his well-practiced ability to remove himself from his emotions, but whenever the opposite was called for, such as casting the Patronus Charm, he had failed miserably. Now, Nicolas was tasking him to manage several, virtually at once.

As though reading his thoughts, Nicolas said, "If it were easy then everyone could pull it off. There is a reason that many Professional Duellists only specialise in one or two elements while virtually ignoring the rest."

Harry looked up at him doubtfully. "You really expect me to able to manage multiple elements at once?"

Nicolas looked down at him with an atypical air of sternness. "I expect you to master all the elements. I will only ever accept greatness from you, Henry." Instead of crushing him, the weight that Nicolas had just placed on his shoulders did nothing but make him stand straighter, eager to exceed all the standards that were set for him. He should really know better after last year with Voldemort and Quirrell, but the high expectations of people he respected did nothing but fill him with an incredible hunger to succeed.

After a moment, Nicolas' eyes softened. "Do not worry. There is a work around that many know of but few ever master, but with my help, you will do nothing but thrive." His words were meant to be encouraging, but all they did was make Harry want to move the lesson along so they could start training.

"The next element?" He asked, gesturing to the dragon, who had finished turning the sand to glass and was looking at the grassland as though it were zeroing in on its next target.

"Yes, of course. Our next element is water." Harry had expected him to use the sea to his advantage, but instead, Nicolas summoned a globe of water from thin air, one that was larger than Brightstone House. It fell down the cliff and onto the glassy beach below with an enormous crash. An immense cloud of steam rose as the fire immediately died out.

"Water is the element of adaptation, calmness and intuition." Nicolas explained as he twisted his wand, and the steam was transfigured from gas back into liquid, falling onto the glassy surface and rolling downwards, joining the rest of the conjured water back into the sea. "I feel that this would be the easiest element for you to master." Harry raised his eyebrows. "Do you not agree?"

Harry shrugged. While adaptation and intuition were qualities that might fit him if one was feeling generous, Harry would never have described himself as calm. Not on the inside anyway. "Does that mean fire will be the hardest for me to learn?"

"That's a good guess, but actually fire, along with air, will be the next easiest for you to master." Nicolas smiled ruefully. "I know it seems a bit odd, but the element you will struggle most with is earth." With a wave of his wand, he transfigured the glassy beach into a churning whirlpool of swirling clay, which slowly stopped and settled into a muddy, barren field and then finally returned to sand.

Harry watched all of this but was distracted by his need to figure out just how earth beat water. "Is it because water casters have to be fluid and intuitive in how they adapt, while earth casters have to be…err…stable?" He guessed.

Nicolas smirked at him. "Perhaps not as intuitive as I thought." He ignored Harry annoyed scoff and explained. "It's really much simpler than that. Flagrate!" He traced his wand in the air, leaving thin fiery lines in the air as first drew the runic symbol for fire. "Fire is weak against water, for obvious reasons, but it's strong against air," he drew the symbol for said element, "as oxygen gives life to its flames. Air is strong against lightning, as it is an insulator against electricity. Lightning in turn is stronger than earth, as it conducts electricity." He drew the symbols for both and turned to the final element. "Earth beats water as it is the only element that can block it completely. Yes, it can erode it given time, but that would take far too long and require far too much power."

Harry stared at the five symbols for a long moment, committing everything Nicolas was saying to memory, before asking, "What's needed to conjure earth, air and lightning?"

"Earth is the element of stability. In order to conjure and control it you will require tenacity, willpower and determination." He then raised his wand, and the newly settled sand was upset by the swirling tornado that had been conjured on the beach. "Air is the element of freedom, creativity and joy. Only a sorcerer who can focus their mind on the moment will be able to ever master it."

Harry frowned, as a thought came to him. Before he could voice it, Nicolas continued. "Lightning is the element of power. It is the most dangerous of the five, and most likely to backfire on its conjurer. Only ever summon it if you are certain that you are in complete control over your mind, come to an enlightenment or seek absolute destruction. One cannot think about the safety of others when summoning lightning."

Nicolas pointed his wand overhead and brought it down like a flag at the start of a car race. As he twirled his whole wand arm, several thunderbolts were summoned from the sky, crashing into the sea half a mile away, nearly deafening Harry with the sound of booming thunder. A moment later, the world returned to normal, as though the sky had just not split open.

Heart racing, Harry asked, "The Tempest Jinx. Which element is that?"

Nicolas huffed. "A display like that and not even a round of applause. I'm starting to miss the days when I was teaching Albus." Harry said nothing, ignoring his master's need for praise as he knew that he was going to explain it soon, regardless of what he said. "Weather spells are a mixture of different elements," Nicolas began to explain not ten seconds later. "Did you notice that it was difficult for you to cast?"

Harry shrugged. "I just thought it was a hard spell to manage. Advanced, you know?"

"That too, I suppose. Weather spells are just another sub-category, like lava, mud and steam." Nicolas described each with a wave of his hand, like he wasn't just adding even more on Harry's list of things to master. "Anything that combines more than one element is a sub-category, and it requires a balanced mind to conjure and control properly."

Harry gritted his teeth, as the Tempest Jinx had been difficult to conjure, impossible to control, and it was far from the most powerful weather modifying spell that he had come across. "How am I supposed to manage all of this?" He managed to keep the rising panic out of his voice, but Nicolas must have seen something in his eyes, as he was quick to offer a solution.

"How else?" Nicolas smiled, impishly. "With the Mind Arts, of course."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry hadn't exactly been brimming with hope when Nicolas told him that he needed to become at least adept at Occlumency before he could even attempt at switching between elements mid-duel, but the results of his first few attempts managed to kill what little he had.

"In order to master the elements, you must first master your own mind." Nicolas had told him on the first day, as they sat in the quiet and comfy library. Harry, the naïve fool that he had been, had simply nodded, as though it had made perfect sense in his mind. "The first thing that you must accept and understand is that memories are not real."

"What?" It probably wasn't a good sign that he was flabbergasted at the first thing he was taught. "How can memories not be real? We've experienced them!"

"I knew this part would throw you off." Nicolas chuckled. "What we experience is a sort of memory of a memory, as when we recall past events, we grab hold of the sensations that our senses have taken note of, and we repeat it to ourselves when recalling. Eventually, we end up recalling the sensations so much that our memories become diluted, even warped, so they have little in common with the reality of what had occurred."

Harry shook his head, almost dazed. "So, nothing is real?"

"Of course, it's real!" Nicolas sounded surprised that Harry could end up at that conclusion. "Just because we end up enhancing some aspects of past events and entirely forgetting others, doesn't make what we experienced, what we felt, any less true." When Harry remained quiet at that, clearly ruminating on what he had just learned, he continued.

"The second thing you need to understand is that most memories aren't worth the effort of protecting." Nicolas said matter-of-factly. "Don't even try, it will only lead you to madness."

Harry nodded, as that made much more sense than the first thing. "So, when you say most memories, you mean like what I had for breakfast this morning?"

"Essentially, yes. These memories are so worthless that even we, the ones who experienced them, will simply end up forgetting them eventually." Nicolas smiled at him, as he asked, "What did we have for dinner the night you were suspended?" Harry tried to rack his brain, but he was stumped. "You see? Unless we recall them time and again, experiencing the sensations and emotions over and over, we simply end up forgetting most of our life's events."

"Memories as we collectively think of them aren't real, and we end up forgetting most of them due to how worthless they are." Harry nodded. "Got it. Anything else?"

"Just one more." Nicolas leaned forward in his seat, clearly enjoying himself. "Minds, like bodies and personalities, are different for each person. This means that no two defences are the same."

Harry furrowed his brow. "So…what? Am I supposed to figure out Occlumency on my own then?" He had feared as much, seeing as there wasn't so much as an incantation waiting for him in his grimoire.

Much to his relief, Nicolas denied this. "Halcyon, no! What I meant to say, is that there are often minute differences in every Occlumens defence, as every mind is different, but the majority rely on the same kinds of defences that you will learn to recognise should you ever chose to become a Legilimens." Harry had never voiced his desire to become a Sage out loud, but Nicolas seemed to know anyway. "There are different methods when it comes to protecting your mind, but I favour two."

"Which will I be learning?"

"You misunderstand. I prefer using two." Nicolas ignored Harry's rising eyebrows. "I found them to be incomplete on their own when I was an apprentice, so I simply joined them together to make, what I humbly call, The Perfect Defence." He said that so importantly that Harry could almost hear the capitalised letters. "First, you must create an empty, blank room in the centre of your mind. This will be your mental anchor, somewhere for you to centre yourself whenever you are in emotional distress, or to retreat to if you are ever under a Legilimency attack."

"Why an empty, blank room?"

"Even the tiniest of details can force you to recall a memory, which in turn will give an invader an opening to attack." Nicolas explained. "Remember, we only ever remember things when they are important to us, be they good or bad. If you say, imagine furniture within your mental anchor, that furniture would obviously something you had seen before."

Harry was starting to understand. "So, if I imagine a bed, I'll make it similar to the one I had growing up, or my dorm, or my bedroom here, and that would be enough to force me to recall the time I spent in each place?" Nicolas nodded, and Harry was beginning to realise just how deft of mind Legilimens must be, and Voldemort was a master of the art. Just how much did he see?

"The second method is simple distraction." Nicolas continued, not noticing Harry's imminent spiral. "You will simply allow harmless memories, like what you had for breakfast this morning," he winked, "to rise to the surface of your mind. These memories are sacrificed in order to obscure what you are honestly thinking and feeling at the time."

Harry, struggling to push his renewed anxiety to one side, asked, "How am I supposed to think about two different things at the same time? How am I supposed to feel two different things at the same time?"

Nicolas looked sympathetic. "It is difficult, yes. It even took me well over a decade to master it, but it is well worth the effort." He waited for Harry to stop looking so concerned before continuing, even though he misunderstood just what he was so worried about. "The memories that you wish to protect, the secrets, private thoughts and cherished memories, are things that you bury deep within, behind the safety of your mental anchor. That is what makes this particular technique so powerful, because it's hidden under so many layers of defence."

"Well, I didn't think you call it The Perfect Defence for nothing." Harry said dryly, before asking, "Where do I begin?"

"You begin as you would with all magic; with intent and emotional control." Nicolas said this as though it were easy. "Intent is how all magic is done, from potions to transfiguration. Our wands, incantations and stirring rods are simply our tools of focus, but they can't help you in here." He tapped his temple. "You have to be determined and focused in order to become an Occlumens."

"Emotional control is a little different from intent. Instead of utilising it, you must control it, ruthlessly if you have to." Nicolas said, seriously. "Emotions aren't born in a vacuum. They are born from memory, and if allowed to run wild then they will only betray you. You won't have much difficulty with this, I'm sure." He added, much to Harry's surprise. "You keep such a tight rein over your emotions that I'm very rarely able to glimpse your thoughts."

"You've used Legilimency on me?" Harry was aghast, partly out of a sense of betrayal but mostly because he'd believed he would always be able to sense a Legilimency probe after his experiences with both Voldemort and Snape. "When?"

"When you first arrived." Nicolas looked utterly unashamed. "You were a stranger in my home. What did you expect?" He ignored Harry's glare as he continued. "It's best if you obscure your thoughts with recent memories, as invaders will not question why you are thinking about that evening's homework if they peeked into your mind. As an added benefit, this technique does improve your memory significantly." He joked.

"I thought memory wasn't real." Harry snarked. "Are there any other benefits I should know about?"

Nicolas didn't react to his attitude. "Plenty. Occlumency, when applied correctly, can be used to give a deep examination of ones' own body."

"And I would want that because…?"

"Because," Harry was pleased to see that he looked a little annoyed now, "it's a short cut in mastering the examination of Mana within your own body. You can learn how much you have, how much you need to use for a particular spell and can enhance parts of your own body with it."

Harry perked up at that, dropping his attitude as he asked, "Is that why some duellists can move so quickly?" Nicolas nodded, and Harry felt a grin come upon his face. That one tidbit had been bugging him since he had seen Eliza's first duel.

"One more thing." Nicolas brought his attention back to the lesson. "You can use this to sense Mana surrounding your body. If a spell is headed your way, you would be able to tell just what its effects are and what you need to do to counter it, right down to how much Mana you need to put into your defence without wasting unnecessary energy."

Harry blinked. "I've always thought that if my spells dissipated someone's shield, then we must be evenly matched."

Nicolas shook his head. "Very rarely do such even match-ups occur. It's far more likely, especially given your penchant for duelling above your level, that you've simply come across powerful duellists."

As Harry looked back on all the duellists that he had ever face in real combat, he started to realise just how lucky he was to walk away alive each time.

It turned out that Harry was fairly good when it came to sitting still and focusing inward, as he was rather well-practiced at it, having spent far too much of his life in a cupboard with only himself for both company and entertainment. He had made a temporary home for himself on the sofa in the library, the most tranquil spot in Brightstone House, lying across it with his arms folded on his chest and breathing both deeply and slowly, just as Nicolas had suggested.

Unfortunately, his introverted nature worked against him when it came to Occlumency.

While his outward appearance was often aloof and disaffected, he was a chaotic mess on the inside. Or at least that's how it felt. His thoughts were always racing, too difficult to control and impossible to stop completely. In the brief instances where he managed to focus on nothing but the images of a white-walled and empty room, his anxieties crept in, and shattered his serenity.

And why wouldn't they? His worries were just so numerous. From the big existential weights that burdened him, like his doomed quest to free his parents and his fated encounter with Voldemort, to more mundane concerns, like the W.O.M.B. or the repairing of all the bridges that he had burned with the people he cared about.

Nicolas, who had been silently writing in his journal on the armchair besides the sofa looking like a psychiatrist analysing his patient, seemed to sense this. "You must tame your own mind, Little Henry." He said, gesturing with his quill encouragingly. "Whenever your thoughts start to wander, you must pull them back and focus on nothing but the present moment. You are in command over your own mind, so teach it discipline!"

"How?" Harry tried to sound annoyed, but it came out rather despondently. They had been at this since breakfast and now it was nearing dinner. "How can I control my mind without thinking about controlling my mind? Because that just leads me back to thoughts of you teaching me."

Nicolas, as he often did, reacted calmly in the face of Harry's emotional outbursts. "Lay back and close your eyes." Sighing through his nose, he did so. "Focus on your breathing. In and out. That's it. Now-" His voice cut off as Harry sat up immediately, drawing his wand.

"What the hell?!" When he had closed his eyes, nearly lulled by his own steady breathing and Nicolas' soothing voice, he had felt an invasive sensation come over him, one that was far stronger than any Legilimency Probe he had ever felt before. At least, from a human. "What did you-?" Harry noticed Nicolas' drawn wand. "Did you just-?"

"-use a Legilimency Charm on you? Yes. Yes, I did." Nicolas admitted without an ounce of shame. "I find it fascinating that you are able to detect invasive probes with ease, at least when you're not distracted, with such little control over your own train of thought." He looked at Harry as though he was something that he had not seen before. No, that wasn't it, Harry realised. Nicolas was looking at him as though Harry's mind was an occurrence that he didn't want to recognise. "Only a particular kind of person has a mind so defensive of outside forces. Normally, only a trained Occlumens can notice an alien intruder in their mind."

Harry sheathed his wand back into its holster, avoiding Nicolas' eyes. "Only a particular kind of person?"

"Yes." Nicolas said lightly. "You know, I've only just realised how little I know of your childhood."

"I prefer it that way." Harry shrugged, as though he wasn't bothered at all. "I'm starting to feel really hungry. Who knew lying down all day could work up an appetite?" He headed for the door, hoping that Nicolas would abandon this line of questioning.

Harry didn't think his natural aversion to outside forces was all that surprising. For as long as he could remember, his mind had been a safe space to retreat to whenever things were going poorly for him in the real world, and he could find no way out of it. Like his cupboard, his mind had been a safe haven for him, one that no one could take from him, and it had belonged to him and him alone.

Grimacing as he made his way across the roofed bridge, Harry endeavoured to hide the memories of the cupboard first of all.

When they sat across each other at dinner not long after, Harry was afraid that Nicolas was going to bring up what he had obviously intuited, but instead he started speaking about an entirely unrelated topic.

"The Circus Arcanus is currently in Hogsmeade." Nicolas said, as they tucked into their meals.

Harry, taken aback by the random statement, let his fork hang in the air for a moment before answering. "So?"

"So," Nicolas repeated the word as though he were annoyed Harry wasn't immediately following his thought process, "were going tomorrow night."

Harry blinked. "We are?"

Nicolas chuckled. "Well, it is your Christmas present. We shouldn't waste it."

"You got me a Christmas present?"

"I have bought you many." Nicolas said this causally, but Harry could almost sense his anxiety over the matter.

"We're celebrating Christmas? You and me?" Harry couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea.

"I told you when you left for school that I wanted you back home for Christmas. What did you think we would be doing?"

"Training."

Nicolas' lips twitched. "Training is important, but you have to take some days off or you will exhaust yourself."

"Right." Harry nodded, haltingly. "So tomorrow we'll take a day off and go to the circus?"

"Yes."

"All right then." Harry turned back to his dinner, pretending not to see Nicolas' shoulders drop slightly in relief. The fact that he was changing his plans and buying Harry gifts was obviously due to his realisation of his ward's less than happy childhood. Harry wanted to tell him to knock it off and treat him as an adult, but he simply appreciated the gesture too much to turn it down. In fact, he was actually looking forward to it.

Despite the best efforts of Voldemort and the Dursleys, he was still just a kid.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The Circus Arcanus was more akin to a festival.

Situated in the park, near the western mountains of Hogsmeade, sat a gigantic, maroon tent that was surrounded by dozens of small buildings and booths, each containing a game or attraction to lure in customers and, more importantly, their hard-earned Galleons.

As Harry and Nicolas appeared at the Hogsmeade Station Apparition Point, they had an immediate view down at the circus, and with the lit torches and colourful enticements, it made for quite the sight against the twilight sky.

When the two made their way around the town and into the park, they simply flashed the pre-booked passes that Nicolas had somehow acquired within a day, skipping the queue for the ticket box entirely. As the stepped into the circus, the smell of fried food and sugary treats wafted in the air.

"I suppose one day off your diet won't hurt." Nicolas mused, as they ate Colour-Changing Candy Floss while perusing the attractions.

"Don't forget Christmas dinner. I'm not skimping on desert on every kid's big day."

"No," Nicolas smiled, as they approached a booth that for some reason had a game involving fire-breathing ducks, "we mustn't forget about Christmas Day."

When they had only made their way through half of the attractions, a cannon went off in the distance, signalling the start of the main show in the big tent. Leaving behind the tanks filled with the creepy Grindylows, the two made their way inside.

Sitting in the front row with Nicolas, Harry observed the other kids his age, recognising some of them from Hogwarts. "Aren't you worried?" He asked Nicolas over the sound of hundreds of people struggling to find their seat numbers. "Someone might recognise you. Hanging around a failure like me will ruin your reputation."

"My reputation has survived worse than you, little Henry." Nicolas assured him in his usual backhanded sort of way. "Besides, it's not that embarrassing to be associated with you." Harry decided that was the best he was going to get and focused his attention on the show, as the lights suddenly dimmed.

The show began with an awe-inspiring aerial display, as a dozen men and women on broomsticks flew into the tent and began to soar over the crowd, manoeuvring among themselves in the limited space magnificently. As though that wasn't enough, they ended their performance by lighting the ends of their brooms on fire, charming the smoke into all colours of the rainbow in order to create beautiful shapes in the air, before jumping off their brooms before they disappeared out from under them.

When they rolled onto the ground and leapt triumphantly to their feet in perfect synchronisation, Harry wasn't alone in jumping to his feet and roaring his amazement.

The night didn't end there. Leprechauns danced and showered the audience with gold, Veela sang and Animagi turned into animals and commanded real versions of their transformed species into doing tricks and acrobatic displays. For as long as he lived, Harry didn't think he would ever forget the sight of a dozen tigers forming a human (or feline) pyramid. It was one of the best nights of his life.

So of course it wouldn't last.

One moment Harry was watching a giant floating jellyfish juggle a hundred knives with its tentacles, and the next he felt a familiar chill come over him. The crowd hushed, as a dark, tense mood seemed to settle over them and the Aurors that he hadn't even noticed lurking in the shadows ran for the exits, ordering the civilians to remain inside the tent.

"Dementors?" Harry whispered to Nicolas. "Here? Did one of the escaped Death Eaters decide to visit the circus for Christmas as well?"

"This is not a laughing matter." Nicolas scolded him half-heartedly, as he kept his eyes fixed on the tent flap. Of course, he could sense what was going on through his control over his Mana. "They must have been attracted by the all the joy of this evening's festivities."

"You must be joking." Harry demanded. "Why on earth would the Confederacy even hire them if they're so volatile?"

"Dementors are unlike any other Dark Beast you will ever come across." Nicolas said, darkly. "They cannot be killed or hurt, and the only defence against them is something that only learned and talented wizards can ever hope to utilise, and we are few in number."

"Why can't they be killed?" Harry's palms began to feel sweaty just thinking about the damned creatures. "Everything has a weakness."

"Perhaps it's because few have every really tried to discover a way." Nicolas shrugged. "Dementors are humans who have had their souls removed, and very few are willing to delve into such a temperamental branch of magic. The costs are just too severe."

The Aurors had returned to the tent and their leader, a tall, dark woman, addressed the audience. "The Circus Arcanus is now closed. We apologise for any inconvenience. Please exit in an orderly fashion." With her short statement completed, she walked back out of the tent, ignoring the shouts for refunds that erupted behind her.

"Come on." Nicolas sighed, and he led the way through the furious crowd towards the exit, with Harry following in the path he created. As they exited the tent, Harry looked around, wary of any lingering Dementors, but he instead spotted a familiar head of pink hair. Harry was still wondering if he should call out to her when she noticed him.

"All right, Harry?" Tonks asked as she wondered over. "Some night, huh?"

"You could say that." Harry smiled up at her, before waving at her casual gear. "Where's the uniform? Or are you undercover?"

"No, I'm on a date." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at a beefy man with stubble, who was looking rather annoyed.

Harry grimaced. "Can't be very good then." He guessed. "I mean, you've basically just ditched him to speak to a twelve-year-old."

Tonks looked embarrassed. "That obvious?"

"You didn't even introduce him." Harry chuckled.

"Speaking of introductions." Tonks looked pointedly over Harry's shoulder. Turning, he saw Nicolas lingering awkwardly.

"This is my cousin, Nic." Harry said, after a pause. "Nic, this is Tonks. She graduated in June." The two shook hands. "It was nice seeing you again, Tonks, but we've got to get going. Dinner soon." Harry didn't mind talking to her, he just didn't want to give her an opportunity to ask any question about his "Cousin Nic", as he wouldn't have any answers for her.

"Oh, just go and abandon me then." She sighed dramatically, before saying, "It was nice seeing you again, though. Tell you what, you should come to my place for New Year's. I've been thinking of having a little get together anyway."

"Really? Why not something more wild?" Harry asked, curiously. "Do you really want to spend New Year's with a kid in your midst?"

"They'll be plenty of kids." She waved his concerns aside. "I'm inviting the whole gang, aren't I?" It was obvious who she meant, just as it was obvious that she didn't want to say the word "Marauders" in front of an unknown like Nicolas.

Even though he had intended on repairing the friendships that he had tossed to one side, Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to spend his New Year's awkwardly making amends with all of his old chums at once. Just as he was about to turn her down, Nicolas interrupted.

"He'll love to come over." Nicolas smiled at Tonks, as he put a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's not like he had any other plans that night."

"Great!" Tonks said happily. "I'm living in the London Citadel, so just give me a mirror call when your about to come over and I'll let the Sentries to let you in." She made to turn and go back to her date. "See you then!"

As they made their way to the Apparition Point, Nicolas tried to ignore Harry's glare, until he finally broke down as Hogsmeade Station came into sight up ahead. "All right, I shouldn't have spoken on your behalf. I know that, but you really do need to spend more time with people your own age. You don't want to end up forever separated from others like myself, do you?" Nicolas said this casually, but Harry could sense the sadness in his voice.

"I can think of worse things than to end up like you." It was the best compliment Harry could think of in the moment, but judging by his small smile, it at least meant something to the ancient man.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Returning to Hogsmeade the day after the Dementors had proven themselves to be so volatile was rather reckless, Harry would be the first to admit it, but he was determined to repair the bonds he had allowed to wither, and he could not think of a better way to do that then by keeping up a tradition he and his largest friend had begun last year.

But before he went to go find Hagrid, there was another person he needed to speak with first.

With the aid of his Invisibility Cloak, Harry had snuck into Hogwarts with ease through the now familiar passageway hidden underneath Honeydukes and made his way to the fourth floor as discreetly as he could. Despite the near infallible protection that his Cloak offered, Harry still kept his head on a swivel as he was unsure if his presence was breaking the rules of his suspension, even though it was the middle of the holiday.

Wishing he hadn't given back the Map, Harry hurried towards his destination when he saw it, returning his Cloak to his lockbox as he knocked. He did his best to seem casual as the door was opened a few moments later.

"Harry!" Lupin exclaimed, looking more surprised than Harry had ever seen before. "How-? What-?"

"May I come in?" He was eager to get out of the corridor where anyone could see him. "I want to speak with you." Despite appearing even more surprised when he heard that, Lupin did not hesitate in opening his office door to Harry, and he quickly slipped inside.

"You shouldn't be on school grounds, Harry." Lupin said sternly, having regained his composure while the two took their seats at his desk. "Your suspension lasts until the first day of the new term."

"Really? No one told me that." Harry said, innocently. "I assumed my suspension ended with the last term." Lupin didn't look convinced, so Harry quickly dropped the act so he could get to what he really came for. "Seriously though, I'm just here to apologise."

"What?" Harry could count the number of times he had ever seen his old teacher on the back foot on one hand and still have a couple of fingers left over, but he was two for two now as Lupin's mouth was now hanging open. "You are apologising to me?"

"Yes." Harry nodded, trying to hide how much he was enjoying this. He was supposed to be repentant! "You kept trying to speak to me when the school year began, but I just kept on ignoring you. Everyone deserves a chance to explain their side of the story, and I didn't give that to you. I'm sorry."

Lupin was silent for a long time, simply staring at Harry as though he didn't recognise him, before leaning back in his chair and smiling wistfully at him. "Where does the time fly?" Out of nowhere, he sounded almost nostalgic. "It feels like just yesterday you were willing to push blame on anyone but yourself, and now you're taking responsibility for something that you are completely not at fault for." He shook his head. "I don't blame you for acting the way that you did. In fact, I expected far more explosive consequences due to my actions."

Harry had not at all meant to sound as though he were taking responsibility for Lupin's misdeeds, only willing to acknowledge what he had done wrong, but if it put him in a favourable light then he wasn't about to correct him.

"Your actions?" He prompted. Lupin opened his mouth but before he could answer there was a sudden knock on the door, and when it swung open it revealed one of the last people he would expect to come over for a social visit.

"Lupin, I have-" Snape, who was carrying a silver goblet that was brimming with a bubbling green liquid, abruptly stopped speaking when he noticed the Defence Professor was not alone. "Potter. You should not be on school grounds."

"Really? That's news to me." Harry said innocently, and he could see Lupin look at him incredulously from his peripheral. "Anyway, terms over and Professor Lupin invited me over for tea." He stopped himself from winking surreptitiously at Lupin, fearing that would simply annoy him enough to not back up his stories as it had in the past.

"Yes, that's true." Lupin said, the awkward pain in his voice so clear that it forced Harry to hold back a snort. "Tea."

Snape made a show of looking around the office. "I see neither a teapot nor a crumpet in sight."

"It's just an expression." Harry rolled his eyes. "We're just headed into town for a meal later."

Snape opened his mouth to poke further holes in Harry's story, but Lupin finally got to the point of his presence in the room. "The potion, Severus?" Twitching at the sound of his first name, Snape swept forward and put the goblet on the desk before turning on his heel and leaving the room, dramatically slamming the door closed behind him.

The was a beat of silence, before Harry said, "That guy is hilarious when you wind him up."

For some reason, that made Lupin groan as he reached for his potion. "You sound like James."

It was Harry's turn to twitch. "James? My dad James? You knew him?"

Lupin froze, the goblet halfway towards his mouth, and Harry could practically see the gears turning inside his head. Instead of answering Harry, he brought the goblet to his lips and proceeded to drink the entire thing. For one long, awkward minute, Harry simply stared at him while he chugged the foul-smelling concoction, while Lupin avoided his eyes.

Finally, when the goblet was empty of everything but the dregs, Lupin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, "Sorry. It's practically useless I drink it immediately after the brewing process is complete."

"Lupin!"

"Alright, alright!" He held up his hands, defensively. "Honestly, I thought you would have known by now. I mean, didn't you ever ask Hestia about me? Hagrid?" When Harry shook his head, his shoulders slumped. "I thought him asking for photos was you reaching out."

"I did reach out!" Harry snapped. "You never answered!"

"Not because I wanted to, but because I had to!" Lupin snapped back.

Harry frowned as he considered that. "Because you're a Werewolf?"

Lupin's surprised expression was now in danger of becoming a permanent fixture on his face. "What? What are you talking about? Werewolf? Me-?"

Harry decided to cut off his pitiful denials right there. "There was always a day or two each month where you wouldn't come to school or would stay in your house and keep your backdoor locked to stop me coming inside. You look older than you really should for your age, even by Muggle standards, and you get quite sickly a right before and after the full moon, and then you bounce back like nothing happened."

Lupin stared at him. "When did you figure all that out?"

"There was actually an on-going joke back in St. Greggs about you being a Werewolf. I think one of the older kids started it." Harry told him and enjoyed the look of exasperation on his face. "What did you expect? We had to get a substitute almost every month to cover for you." Lupin groaned and sank in his chair. "But really though, I only just figured it out because of the potion. Wolfsbane Potion, right?"

"Right?" Lupin, who had closed his eyes in despair at having his secret found out by Muggle children, peeked one open to look at him. "Interested in potions, are we?"

"You don't hang around Terry Boot for as long as I have without picking up a thing or two." Harry shrugged. "Why didn't you tell me who you really were?"

Lupin looked guilty as he answered. "As a Werewolf, I would never have been allowed anywhere near you, but Dumbledore turned a blind eye to it after speaking with me, and he gave me the position as your bodyguard." He explained. "He needed someone he could trust to keep you safe when he was busy elsewhere, and he believed I qualified."

"But why not tell me the truth?" Harry's veneer of calm was a thin one, as he still struggled with the fallout of Lupin's omission even now. "About my powers, my family, everything. Why?"

"That was Dumbledore's condition, but honestly as time went on and he became increasingly hands off, the fault became mine, as I was afraid you might ask me to take you in." Harry was unable to hide his flinch, and Lupin quickly explained himself. "I would never have been able to say no to that, and the protections that kept you safe in Little Whinging would have fallen."

"Why didn't you answer my letter?" Harry asked, calmly. Perhaps it was some kind of defence mechanism, or maybe his Occlumency training was finally kicking in, but he felt unusually hollow at the moment. It wouldn't last, he knew that from experience, but he needed to know the full story before his emotions came crashing down upon him. "Why wasn't it you who told me the whole story?"

"Dumbledore had kept my secret because he knew my intentions were to only protect you. Others wouldn't have been so kind."

"Because people are prejudiced against Werewolves." Harry finished for him. When Lupin looked at him with raised eyebrows, he explained himself. "People always give The Howling Tavern a wide berth even though it's really nice. I've never even seen it more than half-full, and it's obvious that it's because of Pam. She looks a lot like you do. Older than her years." Harry paused for a moment, before adding, "And, you know, her bar is called the Howling Tavern, so she's not doing herself any favours there."

"Your eyes are as sharp as ever." Lupin smiled. "Magister Akingbade would never have allowed a Werewolf anywhere near you, so to repay Dumbledore, I kept clear of you until he saw you with his own eyes." It went unsaid that the Magister had used Legilimency on him during that first meeting in order to ensure that Dumbledore's claims were true. "When you never wrote to me again, you as persistent as you are, I believed you wanted nothing to do with me."

The two sat there for a long time, avoiding each other's eyes. Finally, Harry asked him, "Do you want to come over to my house tomorrow for Christmas?"

Lupin eyes shot up. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded with more certainty than he felt. "Yes." The way he saw it, he could allow forces outside of his control, both of their control, to create a fissure between them, or he could simply take back power and get over it. A lot of things remained unresolved and would probably have to be spoken about sometime in the future, but it was Christmas and all Harry wanted to do was forgive. "You can tell me stories about my mum and dad."

"I'd very much like that." Lupin smiled, before asking, "But what do you mean your house? I don't think the Dursleys would enjoy having me as a guest."

"Oh, the Dursleys ran off over a year ago, so I don't live with them anymore." Harry explained, casually. "I'm living with Nicolas Flamel these days. I'm his apprentice."

"What?!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry steeled his nerve as he approached the wooden house. Unlike with Lupin, he was far more clearly in the wrong in this situation. Climbing the giant steps to the porch, Harry didn't give himself a chance to retreat, as he immediately knocked of the massive door, and didn't realise he had missed the sound of Fang's barks until he heard them booming from inside.

"What are you doing here?" Hagrid frowned down at him, and were he anyone else, Harry would have shot back at him with an equally rude greeting, but this wasn't just anyone else. The last time Hagrid had opened his door for him, Harry had attacked, bound, confounded and poisoned him with Veritaserum against his will within his own home. So, yes, a rude greeting was the least he deserved.

"I'm just here to apologise." Harry said firmly, forcing himself to look Hagrid in the eye, no matter how far he had to crane his neck to do so. "I did something terrible. I used your trust in me to against you. I used it as an opening to attack you. I forced you to give up secrets-"

"It's fine."

Harry blinked, stumbling over the next couple of words before bringing his rehearsed speech to a stop. "What?"

"It's fine." Hagrid repeated, looking rather embarrassed. "You don't have anything to apologise for."

"Did you not hear the list of crimes I just admitted to?" Harry asked incredulously. "And I was only half-way through."

"All right, maybe you do have a few things worth apologising for, but so did I." Hagrid shuffled on his feet, wide shoulders bumping on the doorway. "I knew the truth about you mum and dad, one of the few people in the world that do, and I told a lie to your face the day we met." He looked Harry in the eye, as though beseeching him to understand. "I know what it's like to lose a parent you see, so if there was someone who was standing between me and the truth of the matter, I would have done no less than you. Probably would have roughed them up a bit more, though." He added.

Harry stared at him. "Then why give me the cold shoulder all term."

"I'm allowed to be angry, aren't I?" Hagrid shrugged. "I only just realised that I've been acting like a fool when you started to apologise." He smiled down at Harry. "I appreciate you being the bigger man here, Harry. Really. It took guts to be the first to admit you were in the wrong."

It was Harry's turn to shrug. "I just didn't want to stop our new tradition just when it started." Hagrid looked confused, so he clarified, smiling, "Why don't you come round to my place tomorrow morning a so we can open our presents together? They'll be a dinner and everything."

Harry was afraid that he would say no, that just because he had chosen to forgive Harry didn't mean that he wanted to go back to being friends with him, but Hagrid simply beamed and gave his assent.

As he stepped back into Brightstone House via the fireplace, Harry waved his wand over his clothes as he informed Nicolas, "We'll be having two guests over tomorrow."

"What?" Nicolas put down his journal. "You can't just invite people over without telling me!"

"Why not?" Harry asked, innocently. "I thought this was my home now?" Nicolas looked so pleased to hear those words, that he didn't even raise a second protest at Harry overstepping his bounds.

The next day, Hagrid and Lupin Flooed right into the sitting room, one after the other, and they each looked surprised to see the other professor. While they spoke, Nicolas was lingering in the doorway, looking awkward at having strangers in his home. After a moment, Harry prompted the three to introduce themselves to each other, but even once they had done so, things remained uncomfortable.

Not wanting to begin the day in such a mood, Harry tried to prod them into conversation by using the one thing they would all have in common: befriending him. Unfortunately, this had unforeseen consequences.

"I'm telling you the truth." Nicolas was grinning, enjoying his guest's disbelieving laughter. "Not two minutes after meeting me, he threatened to have the Aurors lock me away if I didn't comply. I might have been worried if he looked old enough to shave."

"Oh, he's always been daring like that." Lupin informed the others. "He once broke my record player and tried to convince me I had done it. Looked me right in the eye as he said it."

Hagrid winked at Harry. "You should hear about the time he thought he could smuggle my own Dragon out from under my nose." As Lupin and Nicolas demanded more details, the former due to concern and the latter out of hilarity, Harry groaned and closed his eyes, slumping against the back of his chair.

While he had hoped they would break the ice by talking about him, he didn't think it was a topic they would spend so much time on, nor in so much excruciatingly embarrassing detail. Still, he could not ignore the warmth that was growing within him, as a small part of him wondered if this was what it was like to have a family.

Company, presents, food, and embarrassing childhood stories, Harry thought warmly, I think that's all boxes checked on my Christmas list.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

At sunset, Harry and Nicolas landed roughly on the well-maintained footpath, the setting sun obscured from their eyes by the naked tree branches that surrounded them. As he started to walk down the path, Harry glanced back at his master and told him, "You don't have to come with me, you know."

Nicolas raised his eyebrows. "I think I do. You always manage to attract some kind of trouble whenever I leave you alone in public."

"Not every time." Harry informed him shortly. "Not a single person tried to kill me on Christmas Eve."

"Oh, that settles my nerves." Nicolas said dryly. "Anyway, I don't think hired killers take time off for the holidays."

Harry ducked underneath a very low branch. "Hired killer? Wait," he glanced up at Nicolas, "you don't mean that witch who keeps trying to kill me, do you?"

"It would make sense, wouldn't you think?" Nicolas said causally, as though having assassins coming for your head was a common occurrence. "Voldemort knows that he cannot touch you, and his followers who have sworn fealty to him might be affected also. He must have outsourced his little pre-pubescent problem."

Nicolas' comment about sworn fealty had caught his interest, enough that he chose to ignore the pre-pubescent dig. "Why would Death Eaters swearing fealty matter? The magic that affects him should have no impact on them."

As the London Citadel finally came within sight, Nicolas looked down at him with a bemused smile. "You used an Unbreakable Vow against me when we met, but you know nothing about intent?"

"I know that intent is required for casting spells, but aside from that-" he trailed off with a shrug.

"I would blame your schooling, but I am your teacher, so the blame lies with me I suppose." Nicolas sighed. "The magic you see every day, the magic we cast, etch and brew is the most predictable and controllable of its kind."

"What other kind of magic is there?"

"The kind that any sapient being can cast." Nicolas stated. "Emotions, intent and action. These are the components that have destroyed armies and brought empires to their knees. Love, mercy, and hope are the fiercest magics that we know of, and their power is to never be underestimated."

Harry immediately underestimated them. "You can't be serious." His incredulity was clear. "I would rather have a single powerful spell on my side than love."

Nicolas slowed down his pace, as he looked down at Harry with raised eyebrows. "I can't believe you, who was saved by love, would say that."

Harry frowned. "My parents used magic to save me."

"Just as Perenelle used magic to preserve Gerard. But it was borne from love." Nicolas sounded eager for Harry to understand. "Remember, emotions fuel our intent and action turns it into a powerful force. Love creates hatred, which has fuelled curses so powerful that they have devastated entire bloodlines, and beacons of hope have inspired the most fanatical of loyalties."

"You mean the Death Eaters?" When Nicolas nodded, Harry demanded, "How the hell is Voldemort a beacon of hope?"

"He is if your picture of a perfect world aligns with his." Nicolas said sagely. "I once swore my life to Master Yusuf when he was nothing but a destitute Hogwarts graduate with a dream."

Harry sometimes found it bizarre when Nicolas referred to the First Magister by his given name, as it reminded him that he was in the care of a living legend instead of the unconventional teacher he had met in a diner. "Are the Death Eaters really affected by whatever harms their leader? That would really make them vulnerable, wouldn't it?"

"I'm only guessing as to why someone would send a Fallen Sun Rogue after you. Yes, I know who she is," Nicolas added when Harry made a noise of surprise, "Katerina Lawless, goes by Kitty, only child of the former broker of Montreal."

"Former?"

"He's been dead for months. Around the time you and I met, in fact." Nicolas hummed. "Makes me wonder if Voldemort was displeased with her first attempt on your life." Harry pondered over that for a second, wondering if he should feel bad that a man died in part because of him, before shrugging it off, as he accepted that he just didn't care. "When your parents ended the Sixth War, Death Eaters that had been so difficult to capture previously were caught in droves, and what remained of the Twelve Acolytes went peacefully to Azkaban, for the most part."

"Why would he weaken his own army like that?"

"For power." Nicolas shrugged. "He crippled generations of sorcerers by either ensuring they could never turn on him, or by killing them. Voldemort never struck me as a man who was willing to share power." Harry had never once considered joining forces with him in June but listening to how he undercut those loyal to him made him doubly glad that he hadn't accepted the offer in a moment of weakness.

Before he could voice this out loud, a familiar voice came from up ahead. "About time you got here!" Harry looked forward, startled by the darkness that had fallen over the park during their walk, to see Tonks up ahead at the Citadel gate.

"This is where I leave you." Nicolas said, as he stopped walking. "I will send Argos to you when I return to Brightstone. Write to me when you want to come home." With that he turned on his heel and walked back to the Apparition Point.

"Where's he off to?" Tonks asked, as she led Harry inside the Citadel grounds after the on-duty Sentry returned his wand licence. "I wouldn't mind having him over, if you know what I mean."

Harry grimaced. "That's disgusting."

She winked. "It won't be when you're a little older."

"I think it still will." Harry said, doubtfully.

Tonks chuckled as she led him into the Citadel proper, his first time there when there wasn't a Christmas party going on, and he noticed how deathly quiet it was. "I was here last Christmas, and the place was packed. It's weird seeing it so empty."

"This is how it usually is. You get used to it." Tonks informed him as she led him up the stairs. "But really, the briefing rooms usually have something going on at any time of day and night, but the doors keep the noise out. For security." She gestured to the inner main doors that led into the Auror ground floor and separated the mission control and briefing rooms from the training halls, infirmary and private quarters that were upstairs.

The two made idle conversation on the long climb up, just catching up on what the other had been up to over the last half-year, and Harry was rather amused to notice that they were both clearly omitting details from each other: Harry because of how many laws he had broken, and Tonks because she was an Auror and most of her work was classified.

As she was in the middle of a story regarding a Rogue who had confounded Muggle farmers into growing potion ingredients for him, music became slowly audible up ahead. A minute later, the two turned the corner and the source of the sound came into view.

In the wide corridor, there were two doors opposite one another, and they were both open and had a few of familiar faces were lingering in the doorways. When Callum, Maria and Marcus in particular turned to face him Harry felt a thrill of worry shoot through him, but when the Seventh Year started to smile, Harry was put at ease.

Harry was the only person who seemed to be surprised with how easily he fell back into the groove with the other Marauders. Sipping a butterbeer, he sat on the sofa in Richard's quarters with said boy, Tonks and Charlie, and the room was so small that even with the enlarging enchantment it couldn't fit all of them. That was why Tonks room was open across the corridor, so they all had a place to kickback and relax.

Charlie, who had seemed left out when Richard and Tonks were retelling their joint adventures from serving in their Auror Squadron, was now trying to turn his experiences of studying in the Magisterium into something more than what they clearly were. When they didn't gasp in horror at his story of the time that he and his master caught a Nundu, he seemed rather put out.

"How are things at home, Charlie?" Richard asked knowingly, and Harry realised that he had misread the situation.

"It's always a madhouse this time of year." Charlie sighed. "When its summer, the brats can just go outside, but aside from the occasional snowball fight, I'm stuck indoors with them all day. And now I had to bring two of them along for this too."

"Oi!" Fred, or maybe George, had sauntered through the open doorway just in time to hear that and called for his twin. "Charlie's badmouthing us again."

The other twin now popped into the room. "What did he call us this time? Troublesome? Problematic? Distracting? Annoying-?"

"All of the above." Charlie muttered, darkly.

"Who would ever call you troublesome?" Lee wondered, as he came into the room and squeezed himself between Tonks and Charlie without a word. As he ignored their protests, he added, "You two are angels. Not annoying at all." Fred and George narrowed their eyes at him in unison, looking rather dangerous, but Harry didn't hear what they shot back with because his attention was on who had just entered the room.

Terry poked his head into the room, curious at the sounds of the brewing argument, only to freeze when his eyes met Harry's. Of all his friends, it was Terry that Harry now felt the guiltiest for having ignored. Looking back over the last term, while he had been wrapped up in his own problems, and both Anthony and Michael were distracted by the Azkaban breakout, Terry had been left to his own devices, which must have been torture for the sociable boy.

Worst of all, Terry had sent him a beautiful watercolour set that had been enchanted to dry and vanish paint depending on which brush you used, whereas Harry had forgotten to send him anything at all.

Standing, Harry left the others to their increasingly loud conversation and made his way over to Terry. "I would say that I didn't expect to see you here, but the London Citadel is basically your house."

"Pretty much." Terry smiled awkwardly. Harry grimaced. Terry was never awkward. "I actually didn't expect to see you here, though. Shouldn't you be busy being a brooding git to be here?"

"I deserve that." Harry admitted. "But I'm over all that now. Just had a problem I needed to deal with." Taking a deep breath, he added, "I'm really sorry for ignoring you all term, and leaving you on your own. You didn't deserve that."

"I deserve a lot more than an apology." Terry muttered, and for the first time, Harry saw genuine anger in his eyes before it disappeared. "Seriously, do you expect us to just go back to being friends just because you said sorry?"

Harry shook his head and withdrew a small vial from his pocket. "You know, you never actually took this back from me last year." When Terry's eyes widened, Harry asked, "Pick your target."

A few hours later, when their targets were nice and sleepy, Harry and Terry burst out from Richard's room and into the corridor, running for the stairs as quickly as they could.

"Harry! Terry! Get back here and fix this!" Tonks shouted after them, but she was in no position to run as she and the other graduated Marauders had been turned into giant lizards.

"I'm glad you picked them," Harry told Terry as they neared the corner, "Less opportunities for revenge pranks."

"I didn't think of that." Terry admitted, his breathing remarkably steady for someone who had been so out of shape last year. "I just wanted to make Callum look bad in front of Maria. She fancies him, you know." He must have said that a little too loudly, as they heard an outraged scream from behind them and rapid footsteps giving chase.

The two looked at each other and cracked up laughing. All the noise woke up Tonks and Richard's neighbours, which only made them laugh even more.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Logically, Harry knew it was a bad idea to break the rules the moment his suspension had ended, but there was something he needed to, and he didn't want to wait a minute longer than he had to.

Skipping the train ride on the Hogwarts Express entirely, Harry entered Hogwarts hours before the majority of the school was due to arrive, and immediately headed for the Headmaster's Tower. Using the Map that he had taken from Cedric on New Year's, Harry let himself inside Dumbledore's office, believing that his unsanctioned presence there would summon the Headmaster from his private quarters.

He was right.

"You should not be here, Harry." Dumbledore said calmly, as he climbed down the spiral staircase that led to the upper levels of the tower.

"Really? I could have sworn my suspension ended today." Harry wanted to slap himself the second the words were out of his mouth, but even though he had come here to make his peace with the Headmaster, he couldn't quite stop the smart-alecky reflexes that had been built in him over years of teachers asking him stupid questions. "Sorry, that was rude."

Dumbledore smiled slightly, as he took his seat. "No more rude than entering someone's office without their permission."

"I'll give you that." Harry shrugged. "But I came here today for two reasons that I shouldn't put off any longer. First, I wanted to say thank you." After Lupin, Harry wasn't all that surprised to see people taken off-guard at his uncharacteristic humility, but it still pleased him. "Seriously, I was about to do something stupid to Fredricks and you stopped me. I know you didn't necessarily do it for my sake, but I appreciate it anyway."

"I cannot accept gratitude for merely protecting my students from harm, Harry." Dumbledore sighed. "It is my job to do as much."

Harry ignored that, as he got to the real reason he was here. "Second, I wanted to speak to you about Slughorn." He ignored the way Dumbledore's expression seemed to freeze. "Eliza Hawthorn told me he was in prison, and I looked into it over the holidays to see if she was telling the truth." Harry narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster. "You know that he's innocent, so why is he still in Azkaban?"

"It is a matter of secrecy." Dumbledore said with a not insignificant amount of urgency. "You have not shared this with anyone else?"

"I told Nicolas." Harry shrugged. "When I say that I "looked into it", what I really mean to say is that I asked him to do so on my behalf." Now, he was glad that he had done so, as he was certain that Dumbledore had just been about to use a Memory Charm on him.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "You do realise, that if we proclaim Slughorn to be innocent to the entire world, all that we would achieve is ridicule due to our lack of evidence, and the alerting of our enemy to his movements? Voldemort does not yet know of our awareness of his schemes."

Harry shook his head. "A scheme that you still don't see the full picture of. Do you?" When the Headmaster remained silent, Harry took that as confirmation. "An innocent man is trapped in a wizard-made hell and we're doing nothing to free him."

Dumbledore looked stern now. "I cannot, in good conscience-"

"You can, or I will." Harry said coldly. "I'm neither as famous or as powerful as you, but I have a voice that at least some people will listen to, and I'll make sure to tell them every little thing that went on in this castle last year." He knew, with the bad reputation that Voldemort had worked so hard to create last year and now that the Chamber of Secrets was opened again, Dumbledore couldn't afford any more bad press.

He never would have dared to make such a move if he didn't know for sure that he had Nicolas in his corner. But now that he was, Harry wanted to take the risk and make amends for failing to see the signs that had been so clear. If he had been just a little more concerned with things outside of himself, he could have helped an innocent man and stopped one of Voldemort's plans.

Dumbledore acquiesced. "So be it. I shall pay Horace a visit and see what can be done." It wasn't a promise of freedom, but Harry felt it was the best he was going to get.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Now that he wasn't trapped inside his own head, he found it strange to be back at Hogwarts considering things were just so different now than they had been back in his First Year.

For one, instead of claps on the back from Quidditch fans, Harry received fearful whispers as he walked past. Instead of spending time hanging out with his Ravenclaw year mates and training bi-weekly with Quirrell, he spent the majority of his time with Terry, only speaking to the other Marauders when they could spare time from their busy schedules, and had his progress checked upon by Nicolas during his usual Sunday visits.

There were moments when his First Year felt like only yesterday, but for the most part, it felt like a hundred years ago. Hogwarts just wasn't the same anymore.

It probably didn't help that his suspension had only increased the number of people who believed that he was the Heir of Slytherin. He could hear their whispers as he walked the corridors:

"What kind of Second Year can fight and beat five Sixth Years?"

"He used Parseltongue against them. That's Salazar's blood right there."

Harry did his best to ignore them, but it was rather difficult when he was stuck inside classrooms with them. As he stepped out of the Language Club meeting room, with Swahili and Russian spinning in his mind, he bumped right into Michael, which wouldn't have been so bad, but judging by his reflexive flinch, he was buying into the whole Heir of Slytherin story like everyone else.

Harry wanted to apologise to both him and Anthony, but he wanted to do it without cornering them, which was quite difficult to manage as their dormitories were right next to his. Unfortunately, this meant that his opportunities were thin on the ground, as their pastimes were so different from each other that they rarely saw each other outside of meals and class.

After a long, tense moment, Michael made to walk off, but Harry stopped him. "Wait." He paused until the rest of the club walked out of earshot before saying, "I'm sorry for not checking in on you."

"What?"

"After the breakout." Harry clarified. "I saw that your mum was among the escapees," he deliberately avoided mentioning Robert as he didn't forget the reason that they had fallen out in the first place, "I should have reached out. I should have written back."

Michael looked disgusted. "Yeah, you should have." He started walking away, but Harry hurried after him.

"I'll be a better friend from now on," he promised, "I won't leave you hanging like that ever again."

Michael stopped walking abruptly, causing Harry to bend his body awkwardly to stop from bumping into him. "Saying sorry isn't enough. You put my brother in prison, you ignored my letter, embarrassed me in front of the whole team, and you acted like a git all of last term. Do you really think sorry is enough?"

"Then what is?"

Michael looked stumped. "I don't know." He sighed and started to walk away again.

This time Harry did not follow. "I'm not the only one that needs to apologise!" He called after him, anger flaring. Michael paused for a moment, before continuing on without once looking back, and Harry just watched him go.

It was only now that he realised that some things couldn't be easily repaired.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Aguamenti!" The same feeble trickle of water dripped from his wand, hardly the powerful stream he had intended. "Aguamenti!" The trickle somehow became even weaker, and Harry knew just who to blame. "When I said you could come, you promised to not be a distraction!"

Terry looked up at him from where he was lying down on the padded floor of Harry's secret training hall, working on his Astronomy essay, and removed the Wireless buds from his ears. "You say something?"

"Yes!" Harry sighed, exasperatedly. "How am I supposed to concentrate on conjuring elements when you're over there singing the new Bejewelled Heroines song to yourself?"

Terry looked a little embarrassed to have been caught listening to a girl group. "I normally don't listen to them, you know." He assured Harry. "I just had it recommended to me- wait," he stopped himself as realisation seemed to slowly come to him, "How did you know it was a Bejewelled Heroines song?"

Harry spluttered, realising that he had just exposed himself. "Oh, you know," it was his turn to blush, "I heard it in the common room."

"This album was only released today. I got it through owl-order." Terry stood up and hurried over to him, looking overjoyed. "Which means you must have pre-ordered it as well! We're both fans!" He threw his arms around Harry and pretended to cry. "I'm not alone!"

Harry groaned, as he struggled to remove himself from Terry's hug. "Please don't tell anyone about this." He didn't put much thought into his reputation, but something like this was too embarrassing to ever become common knowledge.

"You don't have to tell me twice." Terry reassured him as he finally let his arms drop. "Anthony hates them, but only because they're popular. It's like he doesn't understand that the lyrics actually mean something, you know?"

Harry let the topic of the Bejewelled Heroines lyrical mastery go by, as he was forced to recall his awkward meeting earlier in the day when he heard Anthony's name.

"Not everything is about you." Anthony had said, when they both had finished training with Marcus in the Room of Requirement. They had been on their way back to the common room, and the older boy had returned to the summoned training hall as he had forgotten his bag, leaving the two Second Years alone. Harry had taken the opportunity to apologise, but it hadn't gone over well.

"You know, I've actually been hearing that a lot lately." Harry looked his brooding companion over. "I heard that you've been out of sorts since the breakout."

"You've heard?" Anthony snorted. "Like Terry didn't tell you everything."

Harry ignored that. "I tried to do things alone since the end of last year, but it didn't work out well. Accepting help, speaking to people you trust, it can all stop whatever's eating away at you."

Anthony stepped right into Harry's path and turned to face him. For the briefest moment, Harry was sure that things were about to deteriorate into a physical confrontation, but things immediately cooled down when Anthony's expression lost its sudden rage and descended into mockery. "One day in a good mood and you're giving out advice? You're something else." Shaking his head, Anthony turned to take the stairs, leaving Harry alone to take the shortcut to the common room on his own.

"Thinking about Anthony again?" Terry asked, knowingly. "Or is it Michael?"

Harry shrugged. "I know it was stupid to expect things to go back to the way they were, but I honestly didn't expect them to refuse me outright. Is it wrong that I thought they'd just forgive me?"

"I don't know." Terry said, unhelpfully. "Why are you so eager to apologise? Is it just to make yourself feel better?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well, that might be your problem right there." Terry said wisely. "Instead of trying to make them feel better with an apology, you're just doing it for yourself."

Harry considered that for a moment and accepted that he had a point. "Doesn't that invalidate the apology I gave you?"

Terry smiled. "You pranked four adult sorcerers for me. That's a gesture of friendship I will never forget." He said dramatically, before adding, "Because they are definitely going to get you back for that, and Callum can be vicious when he wants to be."

"Lovely." Harry deadpanned. "I would have appreciated an earlier warning for that."

"And risk you chickening out?" Terry waved his concerns aside. "Much less entertaining for me. Now, if you're done creating puddles, I could use your help with my essay. I think I got the number of Mercury's moons wrong."

"Mercury doesn't have any moons."

Terry swore. "Help me, please." He pleaded. "We can listen to our new favourite band while we work, if it'll help."

"My favourite band is Siren Call." Harry lied, as he sat down to read over Terry's essay.

"Right, I'll keep your secret." Terry assured him, as he began to play the entire album while they worked on the Wireless' tinny speakers.

As they got to work, Harry couldn't help but think that there was one more person he needed to apologise to, if he went by Terry's definition anyway.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The last month had not been kind to Susan.

The night that the Slytherin boy, Myrose she thought his name was, had been attacked was the same night everything went wrong for her. When she had gone to bed, she had given little thought as to how the narrative of the evening would be turned against her, but she shouldn't have been. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team were notorious gossips.

When she awoke the next day for breakfast, she vaguely noticed that her dormmates were giving her a wide berth, but she hardly gave it any thought. It was usual for the other Hufflepuffs to give her space whenever they suspected she might be in a less than pleasant mood, as she made a habit of taking her frustrations out on them, Poppy and Eloise in particular.

It was only when she arrived in the Great Hall that she finally realised that the distance she was receiving was more than just from her friends, as the nearest students on the Hufflepuff table slid away from her as she took her usual seat on the bench. Getting an idea of what was going on, Susan scarfed down a quick breakfast before making her way back to her dorm, wanting to confront her friends away from any eyes.

That had been her second mistake.

As it had been a Sunday, her friends had no obligation to return to the dorm and pick up their books, and they stayed away for most of the day. While Susan lingered alone in the room, whiling away the time by reading and catching up on the homework she should have done while she was in detention yesterday, her so-called friends were out there getting their petty revenge.

It was only after the sun had fallen and her stomach was cramping from hunger did her dormmates finally return. Their giggles and conversation finally only died out when they caught sight of Susan casually lounging on her bed.

"Where exactly were you?" Susan asked, standing up to confront them fearlessly. Normally, one against six was not good odds, but she was too used to her friends cowering in her presence to notice. It was only now, as they exchanged awkward but unintimidated looks, did she come to realise that the group dynamic had shifted during her sleep.

"We were speaking to Professor Sprout about moving you out of the dorm." Poppy Caxton piped up from the back. It took Susan a minute to recognise her voice, as she was so used to the girl just remaining painfully silent. "We don't want to share a dorm with Slytherin's Heir."

"What?" It took her a minute to remember the old tale about the Chamber of Secrets. "I'm not-"

"You could be." Hannah interrupted. "You told me yourself that your bloodline stretches back for a millennium." She glanced at the other girls. "You should have heard her. Like she was so proud of it."

Susan saw the rest move their lips and assumed they were saying other half-truths to make her appear worse than she was, but her eyes remained fixed upon Hannah. Hannah, who had been her best friend since her first day at Pendle's, Hannah who she had entrusted with many of her secrets, like the one she was sharing now.

"Your family is more than a bit shady." Hannah said matter-of-factly, "I mean what's left of it anyway. Didn't you tell me you sometimes believed that your father had never been bewitched? That he had an affair with an Acolyte and only came back when he heard his wife was pregnant? You really should-"

If Susan had been in her right mind, she would have simply utilised all the secrets that she had accumulated about her friends over the years. Dirty, little secrets that they would never want to get out, and she had more on Hannah than anyone else.

But she wasn't in her right mind.

Susan never did hear what Hannah thought she should do, as she had leapt on her before she could finish her sentence and proceeded to slap, bite and scratch every piece of her that she could find. The other girls merely watched, having no more loyalty to Hannah than they did to her, and she was only stopped when Professor Sprout entered the dorm, a frightened looking Megan standing behind her.

The other girls had thrown her under the Knight Bus, and Susan couldn't even defend herself, as she had been the one who had started the fight. Sprout remained unsympathetic to her complaints, as she gave her another Saturday detention, but at that point, Susan was almost beyond caring.

By the time she had returned to the common room from Sprout's office, the damage to her reputation had already been completed. She saw eyes from all over the room land on her as she entered, each of them judging, as they had already been informed of her scrap by her traitorous dormmates.

Those who hadn't believed that she was involved with Myrose's attack now had something to dislike her for. The hoard of secrets that she had built up against them was no longer as valuable as it once was.

The next day, in a desperate attempt to prove her own innocence, she had asked Professor Flitwick to tell them what he knew of the Chamber of Secrets. She had expected him to reveal that it could only have been opened by powerful Dark Magic, like Headmaster Dumbledore had hinted at on Saturday, but instead he told them fairy tale that did nothing to help her. On the contrary, when he revealed that the Heir had attacked purebloods, more people seemed to believe that she could have been responsible, as the various tragedies of her family at the hands of blood supremacist was well known.

Honestly, the only thing that lightened the burden of the judging eyes and whispers of her housemates was the fact that Harry Potter was a far bigger suspect than she could ever be.

So of course he was then suspended the moment she realised that.

The rest of term moved as slowly as an iceberg. She had usually spent her days with her former friends, relishing her place at the top of the Second Year food chain, but now she hid herself away in corners of the castle that she was unlikely to meet anyone else. She knew that was putting herself at risk of being attacked like Myrose, but at this point she was almost hoping for it, if only to clear her own name.

Unfortunately, no such attack came, so she was forced to spend her time studying for the end-of-term exams. At least her mother would be happy with her improved grades.

Susan had been looking forward to returning home for Christmas, but aside from Aunt Amelia keeping her distance, things were not how she had imagined them to be. Father and Grandmother had sequestered themselves away in the study, working on another one of his investments she assumed, which left her alone with mother.

This would have been perfect if it wasn't for her mother's never-ending manic episode. Normally, Sadie Bones was cognizant for just as much time as she wasn't, but over the entire two-and-a-half-week holiday she remained either in a state of intense, silent melancholy or in one of her hallucinations. Grandmother refused to take her to a Healer, as she didn't like having her own healing skills called into question, father didn't like to interact with mother at all, and Aunt Amelia had never once visited despite having been lifelong friends with Sadie. She was entirely on her own.

Well, except for that brief moment of clarity a few days after Christmas.

Susan had returned to her mother's room that morning, ready to spend the day going along with whatever hallucination Sadie cooked up next, when she heard her own name being called. "Susan!" Sadie gasped, as she saw her daughter. "Agnes, where is she?"

Susan had frozen half-way towards her mother, her arms open for a hug that never came. "Grandmother is downstairs with father." She dropped her arms, as she recognised the signs of paranoia that Sadie was exhibiting.

Sadie twitched at the sound of her husband's name. "Oh, Gilbert. What have you done?"

"Mother, what are you talking about?" Susan asked, soothingly. "I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

"Help me? You're just a baby. My baby." Sadie babbled, and as she had begun to sob, she reached up and began to pull at her tangled hair. Susan hurried to stop her, making a note to have the Automaton pay closer attention to her mother's grooming. "Susan? Look how big you are now! Oh, Agnes must be beyond our help! You must tell Amelia! She'll know what to do."

Susan had paused when her mother had looked directly at her and commented on her recent growth spurt, thinking that she had finally climbed her way out of the darkness her mind had become. She felt her hope die as the recognition dimmed in Sadie's eyes and she rapidly changed topics.

"You can't put braids in my hair, Claire. You know mother says you never do it right." Susan didn't know why she had been so ready to believe that her mother was aware again, as she was so clearly seeing a world that wasn't there anymore.

While her mother spoke to her as though she were her deceased older sister, Susan silently and carefully, untangled her hair.

When term began anew, Susan had returned to Hogwarts with a new determination, as her mother's condition had inspired her in a way. In the grand scheme of things, her problems were truly insignificant, and if her old friends didn't want her than she should simply make new ones.

She promised herself that by the time the school year was over, she would have surrounded herself with a far more loyal group of friends. She decided to start with someone who had clambered after her friendship for years, and who would be grateful to receive it now.

"Do you mind if I join you?" She sat down at the table that was hidden away in a corner of the library without waiting for a response. "It's crazy how much homework they give us right when term begins. You would think they would try to ease us back into it but-"

"What are you doing?" Megan asked.

Susan stared down at her Student Handbook which had been opened to the assignments page. "Homework. What else?"

"I meant," Megan said, voice firmer the second time, "what are you doing here? At my table?"

Susan did her best to look innocent. "Professor Vector said its best to work on this exercise in pairs, so we can help correct each other-"

"But it isn't mandatory." Megan said, sharply. "I'm perfectly fine on my own."

"Really?" Susan said doubtfully. "Because I've noticed your grades are worse than mine-" She cut herself off this time, as she realised that was the wrong way to go about it.

Megan lost what little politeness she had started off with. "Now that your friends have dropped you, you think you can just start speaking to me and I would be so grateful that I would overlook everything you've ever said about me or to me. Am I right?"

"I would never-"

"It's so obvious that I'm not even sure which one of us I feel more embarrassed for." Megan started to gather her things. "Myself, because you clearly think I reek of desperation, or you, who thinks friendship is so easily bought." She walked off, leaving Susan to stare at her back.

The worse thing was that Megan was completely right.

Susan did not things could get much worse, but they did a few days later when she entered the History of Magic classroom. The entire class was buzzing as it was the final lesson before the weekend, and the students always got a little bit rowdy. Professor Archibald did his best to maintain order with dignity, but he quickly descended into handing out detentions to the few rabble-rousers who just wouldn't listen.

It was in the middle of the lesson when it happened. Archibald had just finished telling off Lawrence Beaufort and Stephen Cornfoot, threatening them with Saturday Detention if they didn't settle down, when Susan heard an enormous tear from underneath her table.

From the desk behind hers, she heard Harry snicker. "Did you just let one rip, Bones?" The class was awash with snorts and giggles while Susan felt her face redden.

"Potter! That was your final warning-!"

Archibald words were drowned out by Eloise's screams. From underneath Susan desk, an enormous puddle of frog eggs spilled out, getting under the desk surrounding her own. Before anyone so much as move, the eggs shifted and transfigured themselves into massive frogs the size of dogs, and they immediately began to let out deafening croaks as they bounced all over the room.

Without waiting for Archibald's permission, the entire class ran for the door, most forgetting to take their things with them which was unfortunate as the aggressive frogs proceeded to stomp all over them.

Later, as they were waiting in the corridor for Professor McGonagall to arrive and deal with the transfigured frogs, Professor Archibald laid the blame solely at her feet.

"Saturday Detention, Bones!" Archibald's wrinkled face was so red that Susan feared his old heart wouldn't be able to take it. "A month's worth if I can convince Professor Sprout of it!"

"But sir, it wasn't mine!"

"Don't lie to me! I saw it came right from your bag!" Susan clenched her fists and looked away, as even she couldn't deny that.

"Don't think I've forgotten about you either, Potter!" Harry, who had been in the midst of laughing at Susan's misfortune with Terry, froze.

"Me? What the hell did I do?!"

"Don't take that tone with me!" Archibald snapped, but Harry glared back at him, defiant. "You were repeatedly disruptive during my lesson! Are you looking to be expelled this time around?"

"For speaking in class?" Harry said, clearly doubting Archibald had the authority to manage such a thing. "Bit of an overreaction, wouldn't you say?"

Archibald looked too angry for words, as he pointed a single trembling finger in Harry's face. "Detention!" Harry rolled his eyes, and Archibald's ensuing explosion was only stopped when Professor McGonagall arrived and ordered him to get a grip on himself.

It was the first Saturday Detention of the year, and just like a month ago, the only people who were attending were Susan and Harry. This time, instead of doing Automaton work, they were to report bright and early to Professor McGonagall's office, where they would be cleaning the trophy room under her supervision.

"Not one word shall be spoken during your time here." McGonagall said in lieu of a greeting. "You will be permitted to leave only when I have deemed your work sufficient." Harry raised his hand. "No Mr. Potter, magic is not allowed." Harry lowered his hand.

With cleaning supplies in hand, the two Second Years began their labour, with each student taking a side of the room for themselves. It was only a few hours later, when it was closer to lunch than it was to breakfast, when they were interrupted.

"Professor!" Cedric Diggory burst into the trophy room, looking harassed with his usually well-kept hair askew. "Williams and McAdams are fighting. Actually, all of their friends are fighting."

McGonagall stood up from her conjured desk. "What?"

Cedric seemed to take her shock for a genuine question, so he explained further. "All the Sixth Year Gryffindor and Slytherin boys are fighting. Apparently, McAdams caught Williams snogging his girlfriend so-"

"Diggory!" McGonagall snapped, and Susan could see Harry's shoulders were shaking in silent laughter from across the room. "Just show me where!"

"Oh, yes, of course." Cedric stuttered, and he left the room to show her the way to the fight.

McGonagall glance back at them on her way to the door. "I'll be back soon, so the two of you should keep on working. No magic! I will check to see if you have used any cleaning spells when I return." With that, she left the room in a run.

"You know, it's quite lucky we should end up alone like this in another detention, don't you think?"

Susan turned to face her unwanted companion with an incredulous look. "What nonsense are you babbling about, Potter?"

"Hang on." He drew his wand, and before she could stop him, he murmured a spell underneath his breath. Instead of a part of the room cleaning itself like she had expected the rags they had been using to clean and polish the trophies began to move of their own volition. "What? Did you think I was stupid enough to use a Scouring Charm?" He raised an eyebrow at her as though he expected her to fall at his feet for his paltry magic.

"What is it that you're so desperate to speak to me about?" Harry looked innocent, but she saw right through him. "Don't deny it. It's obvious that you were the one who got me detention and you didn't seem at all surprised when Cedric came in. I'm guessing the fight is just a lie."

"No, it's real." Harry shrugged. "Using an affair between a Gryffindor and Slytherin to distract from the business between a Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seemed poetic to me."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Just get to the point, Potter."

"When it comes down to it, you're the only person I can absolutely trust."

That statement made her eyes widen. "What?! You don't even know me."

"When it comes to the Chamber of Secrets, I do." Susan's shoulders tightened at the mention of the Chamber, but Harry ignored this. "We were with each other all day when the attack happened, so to us, everyone else is a suspect."

Susan hated to admit it, but he had a point. There was no one else that she knew for sure wasn't responsible for the Chamber of Secrets being opened. "So what? You think that makes us friends?"

"What? No, of course not." Harry denied. "But this means that we can safely investigate together."

"Investigate?" Susan chuckled, humourlessly. "You've been reading too many Captain Armstrong books, Potter. This is the real world, so leave it to the teachers to sort out."

"Teachers aren't infallible." Harry said this as though he had intimate knowledge of the subject. "They're just as capable of making mistakes as we are. In fact, because they have so much responsibility placed on them, their mistakes are often exponentially worse than anything we can do."

"So, you're saying we have nothing to lose by looking into it ourselves." She waited for him to nod before continuing. "Everyone else is a suspect?" He nodded again. "You realise how paranoid this makes you sound?" Again, he nodded. Sighing, she said, "Fine. I'm in."

Susan wondered how low she had gotten that she would deign to work with the Wizarding World's golden child.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Later, when the trophy room was cleaned and he and Susan went their separate ways in order to clean up for dinner, Harry allowed the pleasant expression he had worn to slip from his face.

While he had chosen to work with Susan so they could look into this Chamber business and make amends for leaving her in the lurch last month to bear the brunt of the rumours on her own, it was mostly for pragmatic purposes.

While Susan had managed to catch on that he had arranged for their detention meeting by working with Terry and the other Marauders, she had failed to realise his secondary motive.

While it was unlikely that she was the Heir of Slytherin, Harry had wanted to keep her close just in case. What he had told her was true, as her presence in the Beast Enclosure that day made it unlikely that she could have attacked Myrose, it wasn't impossible.

After all, she could have an accomplice.

So, he had come up with the ruse of working together in order to keep a closer eye on her behaviour, temperament, and how she spent her time, which were all things that the Marauder's Map could not tell him. However, while Susan had been smart enough to see through the first layer of his deception, she had not seen the second.

Unless. Harry stopped walking, halfway down the corridor to the common room. Unless she knows that I'm keeping her close to investigate her, and she's doing the same to me. After a moment filled with furious scheming, Harry decided to let it go for now, before he drove himself crazy.

Still, he would make sure to keep an eye on her.