"You sure about joining the club?" Harry asked, tilting his head and glancing around at the Hogwarts quidditch pitch. "Aren't there other options?"

Jax looked at him like Harry had grown a second head, a sharp look in his eyes. Jax had on a flannel shirt this time, a leather… kutte, over it. The fabric patch on the front right hand side read Prospect. "Nah. I don't want to be all normal. You get that, right? It's my only option. My only future in this town. Opie's prospecting with me if that's what you're worried about. But don't be."

Harry squinted as he stood up and walked through the empty, ghostly stands, arms tucked into the pockets of his robes. Jax followed him, his gaze moving everywhere, taking in the quidditch goals behind them. "I don't know, Jax. I want to be normal right now. Being the Boy-Who-Lived is exhausting. I'm at the Burrow right now and Ginny keeps staring at me like she put me on a pedestal. I want to just be Harry but noooo… The Quidditch World Cup was a disaster and the Dark Mark was spelled up into the sky and-"

"The fuck?"

Harry turned red as he turned to look at Jax, who stood on the bench below him. "Long story. You sure you wanna hear it?"

"Yes! Jesus fuck, yes. Your world's crazy."

Harry snorted and shook his head idly. "Yeah, sometimes I think that too."

"Did you actually finish high school?" Harry asked, peering at him as Jax walked along the dream road. The world was white around them though Jax thought he could see some of the outer edges tinged with black, with darkness. It made their dreamscape more than a little grey, eerie and haunted. "Or…"

"I got my GED. It's the equivalent of a high school diploma. Why?"

"I got entered into a tournament," Harry muttered darkly, bumping shoulders with him, his hands tucked into his pockets. "A tournament where students have died before and usually only students 16 years or older are allowed to participate."

Jax stopped and turned to look at him, lifting an eyebrow. "Usually?"

Harry scowled and turned away to look beyond them for a moment. Jax could see the sign that was at the border of Charming a few feet away, alone on the dream road. There were no cars, no people around them and no motorcycles racing by. Peaceful if it weren't for Harry's words and the first few days he had spent at the clubhouse.

"Everyone thinks I entered my name into the cup. I didn't. People are wearing badges that insult me. Ron's not talking to me. Half of the school isn't talking to me except Hermione and Neville. The Daily Prophet's printing shit about me. Like I like the attention of suddenly being thrust into the public's eye again."

"Hogwarts… doesn't feel like home anymore," Harry finished, sighing warily.

Jax reached out to pull Harry to a stop, feeling his shoulders tense under his grip. Harry had shot up a few inches since the last time they had seen each other, making Jax only have an inch or two on him. "You think this has something to do with the Dark Mark?"

Harry looked at him and then shrugged, his body releasing some of the stress he had. "You believe me?"

"Course I do. I know you, Harry. You ain't that kind of people."

"Thanks."

Jax nodded. "I wish I could be over there with you. I'd set everyone straight."

"By punching them?" Harry asked, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Maybe."

"Isn't that more of a Tig thing? Or does he prefer to shoot people?"

Jax snorted. "He's the club's Sergeant at Arms so yeah."

"I kind of wish you could be here too," Harry said finally, running a hand through his messy hair. "You'd probably intimidate everyone just by being you but nah. It's too risky."

"Just because I'm non magical?"

"Because I'm me and the magical world is… kind of fucked up," Harry offered, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug. "Shit happens these days. How's prospecting going then?"

Jax grinned as they started walking again. "They're not treating me any differently if that's what you're asking. I run errands and shit like that. They're not gonna treat me differently just cause I'm John Teller's son. Just cause I'm a legacy."

"You have a bike in mind?" Harry asked after a few minutes of companionable silence, as they stopped by the sign.

Welcome to Charming.

"Yeah. It's gonna have the reaper painted on the frame. It's gonna look so cool."

"The first task is dragons."

"Dragons."

"Yep."

"Shit. Norberta was only a baby dragon."

Harry nodded, lost in thought as Jax sat down across from him, before shuddering once.

"Happy 16th Birthday, by the way," Harry said, looking over the bed, the apartment that he hadn't seen before.

"Sweet 16. Yep."

"The clubhouse, I take it?

"There are dorms above it," Jax explained, glancing up to the whited out apartment. "For patched members to sleep in after parties. No drinking and riding here."

"Smart, I suppose. See anything else? What does the club actually do? Ride around on their bikes?"

Jax shrugged. "We go on charity rides and runs. The club also...keeps out drugs from Charming. No one sells drugs in this town and anyone who does gets a very good warning. We also keep Mayans, the Nords and the Niners out of town, out of our turf."

"Mayans? Niners?"

"Other gangs. The Mayans are another MC. We have the current police chief on our payroll, Chief Unser," Jax explained, glancing over at Harry to see what he thought. "That's how the club moves under the radar of the law."

Harry frowned before nodding. "Same thing happens in the wizarding world. Draco's father probably has a few key lords on his payroll. I don't know if it's the same exact way but he does pay people off. Lucius also scares the shit out of people so they answer to him."

"We're not ex-Death Eaters though," Jax offered, sneering at the thought.

"Yeah. I know. There's something…" Harry trailed off as Jax grimaced and stood up to pace. "What's wrong?"

"The club runs guns," Jax spoke warily, tension in his eyes and shoulders, like he thought that would scare Harry off. "We sell them and buy them."

"Did you know about that before you joined?" Harry asked, following Jax's movements with his eyes.

"I knew that Ope and I would have to do some shit when we joined," Jax said, stopping in the corner of the apartment and dropping his arms to his sides. "Why else would the club have Sergeant at Arms or Unholy Ones, like Happy?"

"Unholy Ones?"

"People who kill for the club or who fight to the death."

Harry blinked and stood up from the bed, glancing around at the whited out apartment. He reached out to curl his fingers into Jax's, feeling Jax squeeze his fingers. Something a lot like worry curled in the pit of his stomach and he saw Jax's eyes harden.

"Be careful?" Harry finally asked.

"You be careful with the dragon, whatever the stupid task is," Jax retorted, brushing some of his blond hair out of his face. "Do you have a plan?"

"The only thing we're allowed into the task is our wand," Harry explained, yawning a little bit. "Professor Moody suggested I go with what I know best and that's flying."

"Summon your broomstick?"

"Yeah."

Jax's eyes narrowed in thought, half an idea forming behind his eyes. "Or you could talk to it in parseltongue. Do something on your own."

"I don't know. Seems a little too… sticking the fact that I know a skill that's considered dark in their faces," Harry said, before smiling a little. "Though… Now that I'm picturing it…"

Jax snorted. "Dragons count as snakes?"

"They're big ass reptiles," Harry muttered, shaking his head. "Hagrid snuck me down to see them last night. I could sneak back and…"

Jax laughed as Harry made a hand motion with his fingers, waving his hand vaguely.

"Figure out the local dialect?"

Harry laughed so hard and took one look at Jax's lopsided smile that he continued to laugh, stress coming out and releasing. Jax's eyes were bright, full of amusement as he laughed too, matching Harry. His shoulders relaxed and he finally stopped laughing, his sides heaving as he took a step closer to Jax, leaning into him a little. Jax tugged him the rest of the way and they stood like that for a bit, close and quiet.

"Let me get this straight. There's a ball."

"Yep."

Jax looked around himself at the great hall of what he figured was Hogwarts. It was all whited out but he could see four tables all lined up in the center, with the dais where he supposed the teachers sat up at the front.

"A ball. Like a ball ball."

"Yeah."

Jax laughed and Harry's cheeks reddened, embarrassed all over again.

"It's for inter school cooperation," Harry retorted, elbowing him as they sat across from each other at one of the tables. Harry was dressed in his sleep shirt and pants, no school robe in sight. Jax had seen something flash in Harry's eyes when he had appeared in his kutte, not awe like everyone else in Charming had looked at him. The hall around them was full of ghostly Christmas trees, greying in and out in their dreamscape.

"I've been having dreams," Harry offered, a certain twist to his mouth that Jax didn't like.

"Aside from ours?"

"Yeah."

"I'm taking offense at that," Jax said, smirking at Harry.

Harry grinned faintly before sighing, his face going pale. "My scar has been hurting a lot this year too."

Jax sucked in a sharp breath at the words. "Has it hurt before?"

"When Quirrell looked at me in my first year," Harry answered, his voice low and a little shaky. "When I faced off with Tom in the Chamber in my second year."

"You think this has something to do with someone putting your name in the Cup?"

"Maybe. I don't like it," Harry murmured, meeting Jax's eyes easily before looking away. "At least Ron's warmed up to me again. No one in the club would do that, right?"

Jax hesitated for a moment, for long enough for Harry's eyes to flash with something. Protectiveness, he thought, and it made something ease in Jax's chest, right underneath his ribs. "It's a lot more complex than I thought it would be."

"Harry?"

Jax shivered at the sight of the cemetery that spread out around him. For once, it was dark and eerie around him, not white, not… safe like their previous dreams had felt. And he was pretty sure this was one of his shared dreams. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in the dorm above the clubhouse.

This was not the cemetery in Charming and it wasn't anything he had seen before. His friend was nowhere to be seen at least, in his sight, so he walked, peering up at the dark area of the dreamscape.

The raw, pained sound drew his attention to one of the bigger headstones and he looked around, squinting in the small light that was available to find…

"Harry?"

Harry was tucked up against one of the bigger mausoleums in the cemetery, to his left, covered in dirt, his robes torn, his eyes far away. His skin was pale and there were tear tracks running down his cheeks as he shuddered again, a small noise leaving his throat unconsciously. There was dried blood running down his left shoulder, visible through a tear in the robe. He looked lost and exhausted, utterly worn down.

Jax flinched and ran over towards his other best friend, wishing that this wasn't a dream. That he was actually wherever Harry was in reality so that he could try to make things right. Whatever had happened… His fingers curled into fists even as he knew there was nothing he could do.

"Shit."

"Jax?"

"Yeah. This is a dream," Jax said, lowering his voice a little when Harry flinched and crouched down.

Harry peered over at him, swallowed, and seemed to steady himself just at Jax's appearance. His shoulders uncurled from their tension, his breathing evened out into something approaching calm. "Can we go to one of your dream places? I don't want to be here right now. Not here. Not anywhere…"

"You got it."

Jax reached out a hand and Harry immediately took it, curling his fingers into his. Jax hauled him up, hauled them both up, and thought about which location he thought Harry might like. This was a dream so he couldn't just hop on a motorcycle and invite Harry to go with him. But there was a place just…

The dreamscape changed around them immediately, light filtering in through the darkness. Jax pictured what he wanted in his mind, his thoughts going to the clubhouse, going to the spot on the roof that he had found just a few days ago. Light burst forth, breaking through the dark and pooling around them, soft and almost gentle. Jax felt his cheeks redden at Harry's look, something like embarrassment curling in his stomach.

"It's wonderful," Harry whispered, tightening his fingers through Jax's as the clubhouse roof appeared right beneath them. "Even if it is just a dream."

Harry's fingers in his were rough, the dirt underneath his nails flecked with red. "This isn't your blood, right?"

"No…" Harry trailed off, his voice still low and quiet, a little shaky, but growing more confident as they stood together. "No, it's not mine."

Harry's legs buckled underneath him and Jax sat down next to him, looking out over the whited out, dream version of Charming.

"What… happened?" Jax finally asked, worry filling his chest, his stomach churning at the thought of something happening to Harry. Harry's fingers tightened in his again before the other teenager turned to him again.

"Voldemort happened. He's back," Harry explained, scrubbing a hand through his hair, over his face. "He regained his body by doing a ritual using my blood and the bones of his father. Pettigrew killed Cedric in front of me. He only…"

"What?"

"Cedric only took the cup with me because I suggested it," Harry murmured, shaking his head at the thought. "It's my fault he's dead."

"And… Professor Moody…" Harry paused, turning to look at Jax with a strange expression. He looked like he had seen a ghost. "He wasn't Professor Moody. It was a former Death Eater pretending to be Moody."

"A spell?"

Harry shook his head, a glint of something in his eyes, half amused, half dark. "No. He used the Polyjuice Potion. He kept the real Moody in a trunk and kept taking hair from him."

Jax sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers curling around Harry's tighter. "Dumbledore really needs to do a better background check on his professors."

Harry laughed warily, leaning against Jax's shoulder. "Yeah. I guess so. Or at least the Defense ones. It's that curse again. No one's been able to hold the position for more than a year ever since Riddle cursed it."

Jax stayed silent at that and Harry sighed, something like a strangled sob leaving his throat.

"Voldemort took my blood… for the ritual," Harry said after a few minutes of silence. "He can touch me now without it hurting him."

Jax flinched at Harry's voice, hearing the thinly veiled pain, knowing what Harry wasn't saying. "It hurt."

"A lot. But… I saw my parents," Harry whispered, yawning and leaning deeper into Jax's side. "My wand and Voldemort's share the same phoenix's feathers. They connected and showed… the last few murders that Voldemort committed."

"They'd be proud of you," Jax said without any hesitation.

Harry pulled away and looked at him, blinked once. "You think?"

"Yeah."

Jax looked through the window of the store in front of him, Opie at his side. The afternoon summer sun silhouetted the store, streaming in behind them.

"You already have a knife," Opie remarked, his voice deeper and rougher. "Tara doesn't need one, does she?"

"Nah. She has me," Jax said, smirking at the thought, his heart skittering as he thought about Tara. He pushed the door open and perused the contents of the store, keeping an eye on the door. The store keeper glanced at them, his skin paling a little bit, seeing both of them with their kuttes on. Their prospect year was just about over, the prospect patches soon to be replaced by Sons of Anarchy, Redwood Original, MC, California. Jax already had a thought about a possible tat to celebrate the end of his prospect year and the run that would follow. The knife at his belt was familiar and felt safe but his other friend… Harry… If Jax couldn't be there to help him in person…

"Did Harry get into some shit again?" Opie asked, lowering his voice even more as he followed Jax.

Jax dipped his head in a nod, smiling at the thought of Opie worrying about Harry, even if they didn't know absolutely sure that this was real, as he picked up a knife and its sheath. The leather of the sheath was an unremarkable color, a deep green, but it had a set of deer's antlers sewn into it. It would match Harry's patronus, at least from what Harry had told him a year ago. The knife looked to be of good quality, a good metal that wouldn't break or bend under pressure. Sharp and compact too, exactly what Jax was looking for. Opie frowned and then sucked in a sharp breath.

"So he did. You think you can send that through your dreams?"

"I don't know but it's worth a try," Jax said, shrugging and going over to pay for it.

"Tell him I said hi and to stay out of trouble," Opie muttered, reaching over to clap him on his shoulder. "He's making you worried. He's worrying me."

Jax grinned and nodded. "A'right. Course I will."

Harry looked around at the whited out playground in front of him, watching as Jax materialized in the center of it. Jax was wearing his kutte again, the leather vest laying on top of a flannel shirt and baggy jeans. The prospect patch was still there and so was the knife sheath at Jax's hip. Harry watched as his best friend walked over to him, looking Harry over as he sat frozen on one of the swings.

"You doing okay?" Jax asked, as he stopped in front of him.

"Define okay."

Jax flinched and walked around to sit on the swing next to him. "Back at the shitheads then?"

"Yep."

"Shit."

"Yeah. And… I keep having nightmares," Harry whispered, shivering at the memories that flooded him. "They all yell at me if I wake them up."

"'M sorry. Wish I could be there."

Harry shrugged and turned to look at him, meeting those blue eyes. "I suppose the world just loves proving you wrong."

"What?"

"You said it wasn't my problem back in my first year," Harry explained, closing his eyes before reopening them. "That Voldemort wouldn't be my problem. Surprise. He is."

Jax winced. "That ain't right."

"Yeah? You know what's also not right? You joining the Sons. Gun running? That shit's dangerous and illegal. You're only 16, Jax."

"Fuck off. You were only 11 when you killed Quirrell."

"That doesn't make it any better," Harry retorted, glaring at him. "Molly Weasley would move heaven and earth to protect her children from that kind of thing. She and Arthur were there that evening, you know. They both made sure reporters stayed away from me. That's the kind of thing a parent should do, not push their child to join a criminal biker gang."

Jax's stomach churned at Harry's words and he flipped Harry off, getting up and starting to pace. "You don't know shit, Harry. The club is my future. Godamn it. They're my brothers."

Harry stared at him warily, his gaze going to Jax's fingers, where they were curled into fists. Jax was breathing hard, his cheeks red, his eyes flashing with anger.

"You looked like Dudley there, for half a minute," Harry finally said, his heart rabbiting in his chest and then immediately swallowed at Jax's stricken expression, his skin paling. "Jax, I'm sorry. I didn't…"

Jax sucked in a breath, swearing under his breath, and made a visible attempt to relax. "No. No, I'm sorry. Shit. I'm sorry."

Harry stood up, his mouth suddenly dry, his stomach roiling, and walked over to curl his fingers into Jax's, squeezing. "I'm sorry too. I… shouldn't have said anything."

"SAMCRO's family," Jax whispered, squeezing Harry's fingers in return, a faint smile on his face. "Chibs, Uncle Bobby, Clay, even Tig. We're family. You just got a lot on your plate."

"Yeah. I suppose. I also haven't heard a single word from anyone since I left Hogwarts."

Jax stared at him and then sighed, reaching into the pockets of his jeans, searching for something. Harry lifted an eyebrow, watching as Jax grinned and then brought out another knife and sheath.

"For you," Jax offered, handing it over, sheath first. "If I can't be there in person…"

Harry blinked, his eyes widening, and took the sheath from Jax, running his fingers over the supple leather. Traced over the black antlers on green leather, his eyes widening even more as warmth gathered in his stomach. "What… Jax…"

"I don't know if you'll have it back when you wake up," Jax started, rocking back on the heels of his feet a little self consciously, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. Harry tilted his head at the sight, seeing just a faint hint of red on Jax's cheeks. His best friend was... embarrassed. "But I wanted you to have it. You told me about the trace that the Ministry has on wands. They won't be able to trace this."

Harry curled his fingers over the hilt of the knife and slid it out, opening his mouth and closing it as he looked it over. The metal of the knife was shiny but sharp, sturdy. It was a small blade but it looked like it wouldn't break easy. "Jax… Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jax whispered, laying his fingers over Harry's on the knife.

"I'll practice with it in our next couple of dreams," Harry said, grinning at the thought. "Maybe even ask one of the older students to charm it when I get back to school. Or maybe just charm it myself. Don't want people getting all up in my business."

"Good. Oh, and Opie says hi."

Harry smiled even wider. "He does, huh?"

Jax nodded, matching Harry's smile with a faint one of his own. "He's good like that. Also says to not get into any more trouble."

Harry snorted. "Well, I'll try. No guarantees but I'll try. Tell him I say hi too."

"Will do."

The next morning, Harry woke up in his bedroom at the Dursley's, the knife that Jax had given him tightly held in his left hand.