On Mondays, Harry has the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw third years in the morning, just before the break. He's a bit distracted through class, still thinking about the graffiti Teddy found, and what it all could mean. He's spent the last two days thinking about it, and he still doesn't know what it could mean. There's no proof that the Dementor attacks and the graffiti are connected, but he has a feeling that they are.

"Alright, everyone," he announces at the end of the class, forcing himself to pay attention to the class and not let his mind wander into the investigation too much. "Great work today. For homework, practice the Shield Charm, yeah? And Disarming, too, in case you think you need it. See you next class."

The class starts to file out. Harry opens up his desk drawer, takes out a stack of parchment. He's just about to tap it with his wand when he notices that Albus and Scorpius are lingering back. Albus says something to Rose, who nods and then walks out, and then Albus and Scorpius walk up to the desk. He offers them a tired smile. "Everything alright, you two?" he asks.

Both of them look worried; Albus, in particular, looks more stressed out than Harry's ever seen him.

"Is this about Hogsmeade?" Harry says.

"No, Mr. Potter, we—" Scorpius starts to say.

"Because if it is, it's really no problem – I mean, you're both thirteen, of course you'll want to date—"

"Dad, we—"

"It's no different from if Jamie wanted to date, or Lily—although Lily's far too young, far too young—"

"Dad—"

"And this doesn't change anything for us, in case you were worried, Al, and your mum feels the same way, and you're still part of the family, Scorpius—"

"Thanks, Mr. Potter, but—"

"And it makes no difference that you're dating a boy, and I'm sorry if we made things awkward, but—"

"Dad!" Albus says, basically yelling at this point. His cheeks are flaming red. "This isn't about the date!"

Harry falls silent, feeling a bit hot around the ears himself. "Oh. Er. Right," he says.

"It was very nice of you, though, Mr. Potter," Scorpius, ever the peacemaker, says.

"I mean it," Harry says.

"Thank you," Scorpius says, and beams at him.

"Yeah, it was nice, Dad. But… It was just that… we had to tell you something else," Albus says.

"Oh," Harry says, again. "Alright. What is it, then?"

"Yesterday, we went to the library. With Rose and her friends. But they left, and then me and Scorp sort of, er, hung back a bit," Albus says. "And, um, we heard a couple of people talking."

"Slytherins," Scorpius puts in. "Older ones. Sixth or seventh years."

"Go on," Harry says. He's already got a bad feeling about this.

"Talking about you, Dad," Albus says, his brow knitting together in worry. "They said… that you don't care about the trail of destruction you left behind. That you were the most dangerous, and that you didn't care about the people you're meant to have saved, and that you had it coming."

"It didn't make much sense, Mr. Potter," Scorpius says.

Harry closes his eyes for a moment, and sighs. "Do you know who it was?" he asks.

Albus frowns. "I don't know. Two girls. I don't know they are. They didn't really seem like very"

"They seemed familiar to me," Scorpius admits. "Maybe my dad would know?"

Harry freezes, and opens his eyes, looking at Scorpius for a long second. "That's it," he says.

"That's what?" Scorpius says, confused.

"Scorpius, you're a genius," Harry says, getting to his feet. It's impossible to know more about this, about what's happening and whether it's connected to the Dementors – and the graffiti – without going right to the source. "Thank you both. Really."

"Um. You're welcome," Albus says.

"Both of you, let me know if you hear anything else, okay?" Harry says, picking up his wand and Summoning a folder from the drawer of his desk. "And if you can't find me, then… tell Ginny. Okay?"

"Okay," Albus says. "Are you okay, Dad?"

"No," Harry says, and stops to press a kiss to the top of Albus's head. "But I will be. Thanks, Al."

It's been years – decades, really – and Harry still hates Malfoy Manor. Just being back here sends shivers down his spine, even though he's been here several times – most recently, to pick up Scorpius at the beginning of the summer holidays.

"Please state your name and purpose," the gate tells him, and he rolls his eyes.

"Harry Potter," Harry says. There's a pause, and then the gate swings open. He walks right up to the front door, ignoring the plants and birds – was that a peacock? – on the way, and knocks. When no one answers, he knocks again, louder this time.

After a moment, the door open, and a disgruntled Malfoy stands in front of him. "Was it necessary to bang on the door?" he demands. "You Potters, I swear, no patience at all… How Albus got to be so decent, I have no idea…"

Harry, who was very much hoping it'd be Astoria home and not Malfoy, sighs. "Where's Astoria?" he asks.

"She's at Mungo's. Working. Aren't you meant to be doing that, too?" Malfoy says pointedly.

"You're one to talk," Harry points out, and then walks in, not waiting for an invitation.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy asks, closing the door behind them.

"I needed to talk to you," Harry says.

Malfoy frowns suddenly. "Is this about Scorpius? Is he alright?" he demands. "I know trouble tends to follow you around wherever you go, but I swear to Merlin, if you've gotten Scorpius hurt—" Harry recognises the protective strain in Malfoy's voice, which is why he's quick to reassure him.

"Scorpius is fine," Harry says. "I just saw him and Al about ten minutes ago. He's not in danger, I promise."

Malfoy relaxes a little at that. "You can't blame me for checking. I heard about the Dementors."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually," Harry says.

Malfoy looks at him, and then sighs. "Alright, I suppose you'd better come in," he mutters. He leads Harry into a small room off the living room, what seems to be some sort of study. Harry thinks about everything that's happened in the living room, and he's deeply grateful not to be there right now.

He sits down on the armchair Malfoy gestures to, almost annoyed by how comfortable it is.

"So. The Dementors?" Malfoy says, sitting down opposite him. "Why do you want to talk to me about them?"

"Not them, exactly," Harry says, and then hesitates, thinking of the best possible way to frame what he has to ask him. "How much do you keep in touch with your old mates?"

Malfoy frowns, but humours him. "A few. What is this about?" he asks.

"I have… a theory," Harry says. "About the Dementors. About who's sending them. But I need…" he hesitates again. The words seem to be stuck in his throat. "I need your help," he finally says.

Malfoy's eyebrows raise, until they've practically disappeared into his receding hairline. "With what?" he says.

"How many of them have children?" Harry asks. "Children who are at Hogwarts, right now?"

"You think they sent the Dementors?" Malfoy says, sounding disbelieving.

"No," Harry says, but doesn't offer up any other explanation. He can't, not until he knows for sure if he's right or not.

"Well… I know Goyle had a son," Malfoy says slowly. "And Avery had a couple of children. So did Zabini and Pansy. I'm not sure about the others."

"Slytherin?" Harry asks.

Malfoy frowns. "I think Zabini and Pansy's daughter is in Slytherin. And Goyle's son."

"Alright," Harry says, and then waves his wand. A scroll of parchment and quill appear in front of him, and he writes down Goyle and Avery's names. "I'll check about the others. One last thing, though," he says.

"What is it?"

"Goyle and Avery and the others… how do they feel about me?" Harry asks.

Malfoy, for the first time this entire meeting, looks amused. "They hate you. Course they do, Potter, you know that. You're the one who put half of them in prison."

"I think that was the Wizengamot's decision, not mine," Harry says.

"That's not how they see it," Malfoy says.

"How do they see it?" Harry asks. He leans back in his seat, making sure to seem as casual as possible. This is what he really wants to know, but he doesn't want to betray his eagerness.

"Well… they think it was better for him back when the Dark Lord—"

"Voldemort," Harry corrects.

Malfoy flinches at the name. "Back when he was around. And they blame you for him not being there."

Harry nods slowly. He thought as much, but it's good to have it confirmed. He gets to his feet, Vanishing the parchment and quill. "Alright. Thanks, Malfoy. One last thing… the next time one of them invites you over or something, will you tell me if you notice anything suspicious? Anything at all, even if it seems insignificant."

"I didn't know I had to keep you updated with my social life, Potter," Malfoy says.

Harry frowns. "It's important. Trust me. I need to know, if I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

Malfoy stands up, too, and looks at Harry, serious in a way that Harry's not used to. "Do I have your word that you'll do everything in your power to keep Scorpius safe?" he asks quietly.

Harry nods. He doesn't even have to think about it. "Of course," he says. "We'll all look out for him. I won't let anything happen, not if I can control it."

"Good," Malfoy says. "Then you have my word. I'll tell you if I see anything suspicious."

"Good," Harry echoes. "Thanks, Malfoy."

He Apparates back to Hogwarts, right outside the gate. He walks in, deep in thought, and then pauses by the Entrance Hall. He turns around, surveys the room. He seems to be the only person here, but he hears a rustle to his left; when he turns around, he sees only a blank stretch of wall.

"I know you're there," he tells the empty wall.

There's a pause and then Jamie reveals himself, folding up the silvery Invisibility Cloak and looking sheepish.

"You know when I gave you that Cloak, I didn't think you'd use it against me," Harry says, amused.

Jamie shrugs, stowing the Cloak away in a pocket of his robes. "Where were you, anyway?" he asks, instead of providing any explanation as to why it is that he's been waiting for Harry here. "I know you weren't at Hogwarts."

"How do you know that?" Harry says. "Oh. The Marauder's Map?"

"Freddie lent it to me," Jamie says, grinning. "So where were you, Dad?"

"At Draco Malfoy's house, if you'd believe it," Harry says.

"Scorp's dad? What for?"

Harry takes a moment to reflect on when Malfoy's claim to fame became 'Scorpius's dad'. "It's… a long story," he finally says.

"Does it have to do with the Dementors?" Jamie asks.

"Yes," Harry says, and then, "Sort of. I hope so, anyway."

"Okay," Jamie says, biting down on his lip a little. He looks oddly unsure, and Harry wraps his arm around his shoulders, unable to help it. Instead of throwing his arm off, though, Jamie leans into the touch – just for a second, but enough to tell Harry that he's worried about something.

"What's going on, Jamie?" he asks.

"Freddie says you're going to do Boggarts with us this week," Jamie says.

"That was the plan, yeah," Harry says.

Jamie looks up at Harry. "I don't want to," he says.

Harry frowns, and waits. He doesn't need to ask him anything, because Jamie starts speaking again in less than a minute.

"Not in front of everyone. Not for the first time. I know what mine will be, and I…" Jamie trails off.

Harry looks down at his oldest son, sees the way his brow is furrowed with worry, the way he seems to be doing his best to hide how upset he is, and makes a snap decision. "There's a Boggart in the staff room. Want to come to the classroom with me? We can give it a go right now."

"Right now?" Jamie repeat.

Harry nods, checking his watch. "We've got some time."

"Together?" Jamie asks.

"Together," Harry confirms, squeezing Jamie before he lets go.

"Then… okay," Jamie says, visibly relaxing. "That's… that's good, yeah. Let's go," he says.

He gives Harry a smile, a hint of his usual bravado back in place, and Harry reluctantly lets go of him before they start walking up to the Defence classroom together. He'd been looking forward to finding Ginny, telling her about Malfoy and everything else, maybe trying to see if one of the house-elves would bring them up dinner in their rooms, but it looks like he's got to battle a Boggart first.