Hermione had gotten a lot better at astronomy since they'd started watching the stars together.

"Gnh-ay," she said, pointing towards Gemini.

It wasn't really fair to attribute her success to his own enthusiasm, Harry knew. He might have preened a little anyway. "That one's a lovely story: of the brothers Pollux was the immortal one because his father was Zeus, but Castor's father was just a Spartan king so when he died—"

"No," Neville interrupted.

Guilt twinged through Harry for a second. Sometimes the boy was so quiet that Harry forgot he was there at all. What a terrible friend Harry had been, so concerned with being seen and heard, that he had neglected to do the same for others.

Neville humbled him every day, opposite of what James and Sirius had done. Harry loved him all the more for it.

"I'm sorry," Harry said.

"No, I mean, that's not what she meant, I—oh, bloody hell, just—" Neville thrust out his arm, pointing towards the constellation. "Look!"

There were three small, dark specks in the sky. They looked like brooms, and they were approaching swiftly.

Harry swore, scrabbling to his feet and cancelling the cushioning charm. He held up James' cloak so they could all fit under it, bunkering down in the shadows to watch.

Something was clattering up the stairs to the astronomy tower. Neville squeaked beside him; Hermionie huffed out a "Shh." They listened to the sounds thumping ever nearer.

Those brooms were likely already level with the tower.

Harry could feel his heartbeat in his throat, in his chest, even in his knees. Were they Death Eaters, come to invade the school? The Dark Mark would fly above the castle that night like a kite, marking the bodies of muggleborn Hermione, blood-traitor Neville, and Harry Potter: the boy who lived.

A shock of ginger tumbled through the classroom's heavy door, wheezing loudly over the sound of Neville's second squeak.

"Bloody hell, Norbert." Ronald Weasley's voice was easily recognisable by its whine. "Next time Hagrid can bring you here himself."

Perhaps Harry should have researched heart attacks not for Vernon's sake, but for his own.

Ronald ambled over to the balustrade and waved. The three broomsticks, cum riders, landed.

Harry and his friends watched the the two brawly adults carry a small crate containing an honest-to-Merlin dragon over to their brooms. While Ronald spend a few minutes speaking with what was obviously his oft-mentioned brother Charlie, the others rigged up some kind of harness for what was apparently Hagrid's baby dragon. The trio flew off into the night leaving a sweaty, disgruntled Ronald behind.

"What have we here," Filch's voice crooned from the doorway. Neville and Harry jumped, though Hermione was made of sterner stuff. "Out for some kissy-kissy, little firsty? Detention! If I had my way we'd get out the old thumbscrews. We should be dangling you from the ramparts. As I always say: CORPORAL PUNISHMENT!" The man's shout echoed up the stairs as he led Ronald away. "Those were the days..."

"Did that really just happen?" Neville whispered, none of them quite ready to pull off the stifling invisibility cloak. "I mean, I was right here, but if you told me Ron got detention for smuggling a baby dragon onto the astronomy tower at midnight, well, I wouldn't believe myself."

"I believe you," Harry said simply, telling his knees it was time to stop shaking—or at least not shake quite so hard. "Come on, let's get back to bed."

xoxox

"Hagrid, is it true you had a dragon called Norbert?" Neville asked.

The trio had settled down to tea with the half-giant. Harry was never quite sure what to say and Hermione couldn't talk, so it was mostly Neville's responsibility to maintain the friendship with him.

The rock cakes were just as hard as they'd been a decade ago, reminding Harry of the hours James and Sirius had spent laughing and joking in here. Once, they'd even turned the boarhound orange. Another time, Peter had helped himself to a unicorn tail-hair that was hanging off a bundle on the ceiling. He'd reasoned that Hagrid wouldn't miss it, but he'd felt guilty for months until he'd brought it back and smuggled it into its old place.

Something about Hagrid's genuine kindness and honesty just made Harry uncomfortable. Like the half-man was stuck in the mind of a child, unable to ever grow up.

"Yer not s'posed to know 'bout that," Hagrid said, giving himself and his dragon away without a fight, without even realising he'd done so. Harry felt himself stuck between pity—and empathy.

Was that why people looked down on Harry? Did they see him like this, too? Stupid, harmless, stuck?

"Ron and Draco both lost fifty house points, I think everyone knows by now," Neville explained.

Harry watched as Hermione tried a softening spell on the cake before nibbling at it. She broke into a smile and took another bite.

"The two'f 'em got detention with me, after. We walked 'round the forest fer hours followin' unicorn blood." Had Hagrid always been so chipper? "Didn' find nuthin' though," he continued, voice drooping. "Poor beast."

Hermione pinched Harry, her body brimming with questions. It wasn't hard to pick one out to ask for her. "That's a terrible idea for detention. Why would you agree to that?"

"Oh, don't you worry yer heads 'bout it, they were perfe'tly safe. Argus jus' wanted 'em nice and scared."

Not-McGonagall would have been aghast at the state of pedagogy in magical Britain: teach the autistic to read minds, and keep the young 'uns traumatised.

Merlin, now Harry even had the muggle's voice in his head. Had five years of their schooling influenced his thinking so much?

The world had been much easier the first time around when he'd been fourteen, enamoured with Julie Simmons and delighted by pumpkins grown big as ponies. Simpler times when he'd been able to enjoy Hagrid's company without it bringing up thoughts of betrayed friendships, of how Voldemort and Dumbledore kept tearing people in two.

The fire cast cheerful shadows on the walls, light and dark.

All rights or wrongs, not a single shade of grey.

xoxox

Harry still had trouble sleeping most nights, bothered by the constant whispering of the Hallows. Nobody else seemed to hear them, not even Neville, but Harry often lay awake listening to them murmur words just beyond comprehension, as Ratty ran squeak-squeak-squeak in her wheel, nice and steady.

Going nowhere.

The prefects' patrol schedule was always laxer on Thursday nights, so Harry decided he might as well go on a walk. It never failed to calm him, the muffled mumbling of Hogwarts' walls, the feeling that he was moving forwards.

As usual he found himself on the astronomy tower, admiring the way the full moon lit up the entire castle grounds.

"You know you're not supposed to be here," Nymphadora's voice sounded behind him.

Harry was under the cloak. He hoped desperately that she was bluffing; for all he knew she stopped here every night to lure out anyone who'd come to convene with the stars.

"Harry, I can literally see your breath fogging."

So much for being invisible. He pulled down the hood and, knowing how disconcerting talking with a floating head was, folded up the cloak and tucked it into his robes. "Hello Nymphadora. It's lovely weather we're having. I hope the weather continues to stay so mild."

There was a fond smile on the girl's lips. "You'll get in trouble with Professor Snape tomorrow."

"He hates me anyway," Harry said, shrugging. "I don't know how you can stand being his assistant."

"It's not for much longer. Besides, he's not so bad. You just have to take everything mean he says and pretend it's coming from a place of love." Nymphadora must have been able to see his incredulity, because she was laughing now. "A place that's very, very deep inside him."

"I've heard him call you useless bint, and you still do all his grading."

Nymphadora shifted her nose and hair into Snape's. "He means it fondly," she said, keeping her own voice, "Besides, he let me stay to retake my NEWT. Without his generosity I could never become an auror like I want."

"Never say never," Harry parroted back. He didn't know what the words meant, it was a metaphor he hadn't cracked yet.

He couldn't stop looking at how Snape's hair shone in the half-light, so different compared to bright classrooms. With a lurch, Harry realised what the sight reminded him of: Snape, lit by the moonlight pouring past the hole exploded through the roof. His heart ached at the familiarity, so striking that he could almost hear the sound of sobbing. "Did you know Snape loved my mother?"

"Huh?" Nymphadora's face slipped back into the one she'd inherited from her parents, looking like that of a fourth Black sister.

Privately, Harry thought she was at her most incredible like this. Just like Snape on the carpeted floors, there was a sense of rightness in the honesty.

"People tell me I have my mother's eyes," Harry said. That unnatural shade of green made him uncomfortable when he saw it in the mirror, had for the past five years.

"I didn't know that about Snape," Nymphadora whispered, the fog from her breath carrying into the night.

"For the longest time, I believed Lily's eyes had been blue," Harry continued. He'd never told anyone this. He could have just blamed it on Petunia's icy gaze, but nevertheless it made him feel deeply ashamed. What kind of son was he? What kind of friend?

He wished he could see pictures of both his mothers, just to check he remembered what they looked like. Because on nights like this, when it was just him, the truth, and the stars, he had to admit he couldn't recall their faces.

"No need to look so heartbroken, Harry." Nymphadora reached out and very carefully rested a hand on his shoulder. It felt…good. "I'll figure something out," she continued, leading him slowly back to Gryffindor tower. "But you have to start talking to people about these things for us to help you solve them. Nobody's reading your mind here."

They finally stopped before the Fat Lady's portrait. "Thanks, Nymphadora," Harry said.

Her lips formed a smile, though it was somehow off. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to give you detention this time. Chin up though, I promise I'll look into getting you some pictures."

Harry didn't mind detention very much, he certainly wasn't scared of them like Neville and Hermione were. Taking a moment, he studied Nymphadora, the way her body spoke weary and sorry.

He stepped towards her and carefully wrapped his arms around her like he'd seen Dudley and Aunt Petunia do so many times. He made sure to trap her arms against her sides, just in case she tried to hug him back.

It was an odd sensation; he couldn't believe he'd never attempted it before.

Very warm, and not half as uncomfortable as he'd expected.

Harry let go and raced back to the safety of his bed. His skin was still tingling as he drifted off to sleep. Odd, indeed.

xoxox

"Mars is bright tonight."

Harry stared at the centaur with incredulity. Was this how he came across to others? He glanced up at the sky to check. "Yes, it is. Look, I was told by Hagrid to wait here while he follows the sound of thrashing. I'm allowed to be in the Forbidden Forest with supervision."

At that moment the giant hollered from an indeterminable distance, crashing farther through the undergrowth. Fang whimpered, pressing himself into Harry's leg.

It was admittedly unclear, at that point, who was supervising whom.

"We were instructed to watch you." The centaur's head was still tilted towards the sky.

His choice of words could have been a bit less creepy. "Thanks, I guess?"

"Mars is bright tonight."

"Yes, I understood that part." None of the rest of the night made sense: something was killing unicorns? The centaurs were watching him? But the stars, the planets—those had never let him down.

Harry pondered for a moment if the centaur was talking about the rising of Ares, the ancient Greek god who was a destructive and destabilizing force. He discarded that idea quickly, it was explicitly Mars who was bright.

The Roman deity of virility and virtue, whose might secured peace for the people. Mars was rising. "What should I do?" Harry asked.

"We are a people who observe the tapestries that the sisters-fate weave," the centaur said, voice lilting and quiet in the rustling forest. "It is not our way to do."

"I'm human though."

"Are you, Harry Potter?"

Harry looked away from those deep eyes, pretending his reason was the planet's draw rather than his own discomfort.

Was he Harry Potter? Centaurs were known for their duality. Did Harry even exist at all?

He imagined being able to see Phobos and Deimos in their orbit around the bright red planet.

"Yes," Harry decided to finally answer. "At least I think I am, right now."

"You are beholden to other rules, then."

Harry sighed. The information wasn't very helpful. Just when he'd thought he was getting a hang on metaphors something like this had to pop up and throw his self-confidence.

Suddenly, he noticed the quiet around him. Even his centaur companion was silent like the moon. Where was Hagrid?

Something was slithering through the leaves towards them. It sounded out of place, as bold as a knocking at the door in the middle of the night. Harry glanced back up at Mars even as he felt fear and dread crawling up his spine. He took a step backwards.

The slithering grew louder, closer—

"Harry Potter?"

Professor Quirrell's familiar face appeared through the brushes, wand alight and turban askew. His robe was dragging across the ground.

In that moment, Harry felt very silly for having been so scared. "Hello Professor. I'm here by permission, Hagrid is watching me. And this noble centaur offered his protection."

Quirrell's face looked waxy in the low light. "I see," he replied. "I will wait with you. The forest is no place for one so young."

The centaur bristled visibly, like Hermione did when she was upset. "I will have you know I am the best at archery amongst the colts and fillies. Next solstice will be my sixteenth."

Great. Peter sighed loudly. He'd been saddled with a teenager. "Look, Hagrid's coming already, so we can all agree that I'm perfectly safe now. I'll be fine."

Quirrell seemed suddenly in a great hurry to leave; the centaur-colt went off snorting indignantly into the undergrowth. Then it was just Harry, Fang, and the sound of Hagrid's thumping steps. Above, Mars hung bright and bloody.

In the depths of the forbidden forest, a unicorn drew its last breath.

That night, while his dormmates serenaded him with their asynchronous snoring, Harry thought back to the centaur's words.

'We observe. It is not our way to do.'

He thought of how he'd watched, helpless, as Master Wenceslas had died.

He remembered the fairy lights winking out, one by one, over his mother's body at the bottom of the stairs.

He remembered Snape's fractured sobs, and how he hadn't been able to look away.

Harry realised suddenly that he was tired of watching. Observing. Huddling in corners while other people lived centre-stage.

Mars was bright, skating across the sky like an angry scar.

James and Lily had died for this. Peter and Harry had died for this. It was time he stopped watching and started doing.

xoxox

As usual, find the next 7 chapters on ao3. Should be returning to the usual update schedule soon/ when the summer break ends.