Disclaimer: All recognizable characters do not belong to me. Labyrinth characters belong to Jim Henson. Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Fiona Phillips belongs to the So Weird universe.

Author's Notes: Technically, this story is a sequel/companion fic to my "Between the Stars", which detailed the Jareth's trial for his deeds during the movie Labyrinth. In that story, I made several references to other fandoms, including to that of Harry Potter and Hogwarts.

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If Toby Williams had to choose his favorite class, he would probably say Astronomy. His two best mates Darwin Weasley and Mark Evans didn't understand that obsession themselves. They both preferred Defense Against the Dark Arts, but then most of the students did.

It wasn't that Toby didn't like Defense Against the Dark Arts. In fact, if he could make a list of all his favorite classes, that one would be third. He just preferred Astronomy first. He supposed that slight obsessions harkened back to all those summer nights that Blaise and Fyre used to visit, and Blaise had enough patience to point out to him the stars constellations and other celestial bodies. Even now, simply being in that class, he remembered those summer nights, back when his parents still lived, back before the Second Great War.

Divination was probably his second favorite class. He had that class with both Mark and Darwin, and they sat together, creating fake and ridiculous predictions, to throw Trelawney off her rocker.

"You'll die in a goblin rebellion."

"You're next true love will have blue eyes."

"You will be insanely happy before you die a grisly death."

"You will find happiness in your misery."

Obviously Trelawney ate everything they said like the students ate the meals she often skipped, fearful the crowds of the Great Hall would cloud her inner eye. Quite possibly the highlight of both Mark, Darwin, and Toby's entire existence came one day in late September, when upon leaving Divination to make their way to lunch, still chatting excitedly about the predictions they made for themselves in the class just had, Harry Potter overheard them, sort of half-smiled, and commented, "Nice to know some things never change."

"What never changes?" Mark Evans called after him.

Mark Evans was the only one of the three of them who had any audacity to call after a professor like that, especially a professor like Harry Potter. But Mark Evans had something over them that neither Toby nor Darwin nor any other student in the school had for that matter: he was Harry Potter's kin.

It was a rumor that had been hushed in the ministry and wizarding world for years. When Cornelius Fudge still served on that position, his decision to keep Mark Evans hidden was perhaps the best thing he had ever done in regards to Harry Potter. Fearful that Voldemort may go after Mark if he knew about him, he had spirited the boy away to an undisclosed location much like Dumbledore had done for Harry, making sure the two relatives never met.

Until the Second Great War, of course, and then it didn't matter who or what Harry Potter knew. The whole wizarding world had already gone to Hell at that point. And more than half of its wizards—from all the world's corners—followed.

Technically Mark Evans was Harry's uncle but only fifteen years old to Harry's twenty-nine years, that was one small technicality that neither paid much heed to.

"Fooling Trelawny," Harry answered, and he kept walking.

Harry was one of those professors that even as every student at Hogwarts counted his class among his or her favorites, the actual Professor Harry Potter both awed and scared them. Toby figured on that level he was no exception.

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On the same afternoon that Severus Snape called a staff meeting and that Draco Malfoy found Harry Potter in the Owlery having just owled Remus Lupin, Toby Williams, Darwin Weasley, Mark Evans, and Kara Winthrop met by the Whomping Willow to discuss their plans for this weekend.

"Which Professors are staying?" Mark asked. He was small for his age, almost a full head shorter than both Toby and Darwin, but what he lacked in height, he more than made up in that audacity and generous personality of his. He supposed he had to be, having suffered being Dudley Dursely's punching bag for so many summers. "Firenze, obviously."

"Professor Granger is, I think," Kara spoke up. She sat cross-legged, nestled inside the Willow's long roots, her fingers running over baldes of grass, trying to unsuccessfully blow on them like whistles. "I overheard her talking to Professor Phillips, about how she didn't want to leave Professor Potter alone for too long."

"We can assume Professor Potter is then." Mark checked those three names off the hand-written list that he held.

"As is Professor Malfoy," Darwin added. "No way he'd let Professor Potter alone with Professor Granger for that length of time, or visa versa, on her part."

"So's Filch, and Mrs. Norris." Toby made his own two cents heard, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his uniform pants, shivering slightly in only his sweater, shirt and tie from the bitter October winds.

"Obviously," Mark smirked, but he checked Filch's name off his list all the same. "We have Professors Potter, Granger, Malfoy and Firenze all staying. So is Filch and his bloody cat. We know for certain that Headmaster Snape will not be on campus that day?"

"Correct," Toby nodded again. "He's spending the day with his wife and daughter. Claims it will give him a break from our lot."

"I still don't understand how he has a wife or daughter," snorted Darwin.

"I think it's sweet." Kara gave up on her grass whistles, and she gracefully pulled herself up, and she brushed off the stray dirt from her skirt and and tights. "Besides, he's obviously going to have a life outside of school. We do, don't we?"

"Professors don't have real lives," Mark contradicted her.

Darwin raised his eyebrow, a red eyebrow, just half a shade lighter than the hair he had on top of his head, and he smiled. "They don't?"

Mark snorted again. "Back to business. Toby, our good scout, what says you? How are we to actually get everything we need these walls?"

"Cunning, and much luck." Toby grinned, his nose and whole face crinkling into his smile.

"From here," Darwin interrupted. "My uncles swear there's a passage way from in here that leads directly into Zonko's basement."

"How do we get inside?" Mark asked.

"They didn't tell me that part," Darwin shrugged, and he grinned.

"Well, team," Mark sighed, "we have four days to figure it out."

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From the way these school halls whispered Toby guessed that he and his friends caused as much trouble as his father and friends had caused back in their days, or Darwin's twin uncles in their days. If Professor Harry Potter's expressions were any example, they had to be doing something right.

But that was impossible. Harry Potter's expressions didn't show amusement or bemusement or anything.

Harry Potter didn't show feelings. Harry Potter hadn't laughed in over twelve years.

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"Think you'll go home over Christmas holiday?"

Toby looked over to where Mark sat. He was in a quieter, almost more subdued mood –Mark Evans—, an especial rarity for him. They were in the common room, sitting near to the fire, having long abandoned their attempts to finish transfiguration and charms and potions essays.

"Probably not."

"See your sister again?"

Toby shrugged. "Probably."

"She's a queen of sorts, isn't she?"

"Of sorts," Toby nodded. He looked back into the fire flames. "How about you?"

"Stay here, probably."

Toby nodded again. This was just like dinner, and the looks Professor Malfoy and Professor Granger had kept passing over Professor Potter's head.

Life wasn't supposed to be this complicated at fifteen years old.