Chapter 3: Good Morning
Harry awoke the way he always did: suddenly and completely. He didn't move, not yet. Because the first thing he realized upon waking was that he was more comfortable than he could ever recall being in his life. The bed was warm, and soft, and almost impractically large, but Celestine was warmer, and softer, and had one arm draped over his back as she slept. Her magic buzzed around him in a pleasant haze, electrifying and yet soothing. More comforting than the actual comforter that they never bothered to get under when they fell into bed together.
He'd take Celestine over the bed, any day.
His face is still pressed into her collar bone, one hand resting on the swell of her hips while the other is trapped under the pillow her head is resting on. Their legs are tangled together, and Harry is sure that if he had woken up like this with literally anyone else, except maybe Hermione, he'd be flying into a panic.
He's not entirely sure why he isn't, truth be told, but he's glad. Sharing comfort like this with another person is foreign to him, but it feels good in a way that he can hardly describe. Like a puzzle piece got slotted into his life that he didn't know he was missing.
He took a deep breath, awash in Celestine's uniquely metallic, floral scent, and let it out in a pleased hum. He could try and go back to sleep, but he knows better than to try. Once he's awake there's no going back, no matter how much he wants to.
That's not to say he can't stay right where he is until Celestine wakes up. Not at all.
He's got to talk to his friends when he gets up. Surely they know something happened. Sirius, well he never promised not to tell anyone else anything, did he?
Nor did Missus Weasley, for that matter, and if she's the one telling people anything then… Shite. Harry's going to have his work cut out for him. But, surely Sirius wouldn't let her have free reign to cause those kinds of issues.
No, Harry's confident that his Godfather has had his back while he slept. Hell, he might've never even given Missus Weasley her wand back. She might've spent the entire morning totally silenced and fuming; ardently cleaning whatever she could get her hands on to stave off her frustration.
It's an amusing image, and Harry smothers his smile in Celestine's collar. Missus Weasley will either be a downright demon once she gets her wand back, or she'll have cooled off enough to see reason. Either way? He's got Sirius and Celestine to back him up, and he's not going to let himself freeze like he did in the kitchen again. He's got to put his foot down with Missus Weasley, let her know that as much as he appreciates all that she's done for him; he isn't one of her kids.
He's Sirius' kid.
Sirius loves him. The thought fills him with such warmth, and affection, and a glowing happiness that he has to tamp down on the urge to squirm - he doesn't want to wake Celestine up just yet. Sirius loves him! There'd always been this hope, this desperate desire in his heart, for as long as Harry could remember, for a long lost family member to come and take him away. To bring him somewhere he belongs, to be with people like him.
He'd thought Hagrid was as close as he was going to get.
But, then last night - this morning? - happened, and now Harry knows. He knows what he's hoped for since the moment they met is real.
Harry has a family. He belongs. He is wanted.
He never thought he'd have any of those things in his life.
He doesn't realize he's crying until the hand on his lower back starts tracing patterns across his skin.
"How long have you been up, mella?" Her voice is husky with sleep, and when he looks her eyes are still shut, but she's smiling a small, contented smile.
"Not long," his voice is warbly with emotion, and he sniffs wetly immediately after. No way he's hiding the fact he's been crying now, is there? Sure enough, her eyes fly open, wide and concerned.
"What's the matter, Harry?" Her hand splays out against the small of his back, subtly pulling him closer, and Harry beamed at her.
"Nothing's wrong, Celestine. Nothing at all." He whispered excitedly. "I've just realized, is all, is that I've got a family now! A real one, not just relatives that I live with, but a real family that loves me!"
Her concern vanishes, replaced with earnest happiness. She traces a path up his back with her finger, right along his spine, sending tingles across his body.
"I'm glad, meie deliciae. Sirius is a good man. He will make for a good family."
"You and Sirius -" he was about to say 'will both make a good family,' but the thought is so surprising that he stumbles over his words, and instead he says: "Do you, uh, think you'll get along well then?"
She chuckled under her breath, her finger tracing random patterns on his back. "I think so. He cares for you a great deal, and he didn't attack me on sight, so I have a good feeling about him." She said cheekily.
"If it's so easy to impress you, then it's no wonder you liked me so much when we met." Harry shot back.
"If you're trying to insult my taste in men, you'll have to do better than that. Because I've tasted you, and you are delicious." She intimated in a low murmur with hooded eyes. Harry blushed, but still managed to scoff playfully.
"What does the flavor of a man's blood have to do with their quality?"
"Everything," she breathed fervently. "Your blood carries your magic, your life force itself, and even imprints of your skills and memories." Harry listened with steadily widening eyes. "The blood doesn't determine your quality, you determine the quality of your blood, and your blood, meae lepores?" She leaned down to whisper in his ear, her lips brushing against him as she finished.
"You're blood is the sweetest I have ever had." Harry shivered, his hand on her hip reflexively clenching and pulling her closer.
"Ya know," he started, surprised at how breathless he was. "I don't think I've ever been paid a higher compliment in my life." Fuck, that might be the greatest compliment anyone anywhere could ever receive! A vampire more than two millennia old tells you, essentially, that you are quite literally the best person they have ever met. What could possibly top that?
Celestine giggled, then drew back, settling back down on the pillow with a rather pleased expression.
"Proud of yourself, are you?" Harry teased.
"Incredibly," she chirped. Harry snorted and buried his face in her neck. For a time they lay there, still completely entangled, Celestine's hand roaming his back. Harry let his thoughts go and just enjoyed the peacefulness of the moment.
Then her hand started tracing over the scars on his back, one after the other, cataloguing them one by one. He stiffened slightly without meaning to, and her hand stopped.
"I'm going to kill them." She said it like a solemn vow; a dark promise. Harry knew who she meant without having to ask.
"Killing them won't fix anything." He muttered despondently. He'd spent a long time thinking about it over the years, and that was one thing that he kept coming back to: killing his relatives wouldn't fix him. It'd just make him a murderer.
"No, but you don't need fixing, do you Harry?" He propped himself up to look at her properly.
"Then why bother?" He asked, genuinely confused.
"They deserve to die for what they did to you." She said simply, eyes hard.
"You're talking about revenge."
"Vengeance and Justice are too often one and the same."
"But are you sure this is one of those times?"
"I am," she insisted. "Tell me Harry, would you mourn them? If they died today, in some accident or another, would you?" Harry thought about it, really thought about it. His relatives had never been anything but cruel to him. Not once in his life had they ever done anything for him. They only fed him the little they did so they didn't get arrested for killing him.
If they thought they could've gotten away with letting him rot in the cupboard under the stairs, there's no doubt in his mind that they would have.
And yet, Harry had risked everything to save Dudley's immortal soul earlier that summer. But, to be fair, having your soul eaten is a fate worse than death that Harry wouldn't even wish on Lord fucking Voldemort.
So why does the thought of them dying not bother him in the slightest? Why does it almost fill him with relief?
"Would it make me a bad person to say no?" He responded quietly, unsure of himself. Her hand wormed its way up between them to cup his cheek.
"No, mella, not at all." She promised softly, and Harry believed her. He took a deep breath, letting his eyes slide shut as he pressed his face into her palm.
"Okay." He conceded.
"Okay?" She repeated.
"I won't mourn them." He confessed. "But I have one condition."
"Name it." She breathed.
"Don't hurt my cousin, Dudley."
"As you wish." She acquiesced easily, and Harry let out a relieved breath. "Might I ask why?"
Harry blew out a breath and opened his eyes. She was watching him with curiosity and compassion, with not an ounce of judgement to be found. Merlin, if he didn't know she was a vampire he might think she was his own personal avenging angel.
"I could say that Dudley is just a kid, and that he never did anything to me that would warrant death." He chewed on his lip, hesitating before barreling on. "But then I'd be lying. No, it's more so that I risked everything to save his life at the beginning of the summer, and I don't want that to go to waste. I don't want what I suffered through to save him to mean nothing, ya know?"
"I understand, Harry, and I promise not to kill him if it can be helped." Her thumb was tracing soothing circles across his cheek, and Harry wondered if this situation, and how plainly unbothered by it all he was, doesn't speak to the overall ludicrousness of his life.
"Thank you," he whispered. She hummed and leaned forward to press her lips to his forehead in a lingering kiss. Harry's heart tripped over itself in its efforts to go from standing still to sprinting in an instant.
"Do you want to be there? It could be good for you, to see with your own eyes that they'll never be able to hurt you again." She mused. Again, Harry really gave the question some thought. He's watched people die - kill the spare - and even killed one himself - face burning, twisting in agony as he screams and crumbles to dust beneath his fingertips - but can he watch his own relatives be essentially executed on his behalf?
Can he live with himself knowing he could have and didn't? Some dark and terrible part of him says 'no.'
"I think I would, yeah." He admits. She nods her head solemnly. "But can we not do that today? Or even this week? Getting everyone on board with, well with us, is going to be hard enough without us risking getting caught sneaking out to kill my relatives."
"Of course, darling. My bloodlust can wait as long as you want it to." She smiles teasingly, and Harry rolls his eyes but can't help being amused despite the seriousness of her statement.
Sometime later, after they'd reluctantly extricated themselves from each other and the gravity well that is their bed - woah wait why is Harry thinking of it as their bed - and taken turns showering in the private loo, they stand before the door to the hall. The ward Celestine wove the previous night casts them both in a faintly eerie crimson glow.
"I'm gonna try and corner Ron and Hermione first," Harry decided. "I think you'll like Hermione, after she gets done interrogating you." He laughed, but Celestine just cocked her head.
"And Ron?" She inquired.
"Eh, Ron is a good bloke in his heart, and a good friend most of the time, but," he sighed and shook his head. "He's let me down a lot recently. I just can't count on him the way I used to. But, he'll cause problems if I leave him out, so-" Harry shrugged, as if to say 'what can you do?'
"Hmm, probably not going to like that one, then." She admitted coyly.
"No skin off my nose," Harry added carelessly. "Don't be afraid to be stern with him if he puts his foot in his mouth. He has a habit, ya see."
"Lovely," Celestine snorted as she deactivated her ward with a wave of her hand. The words sank back into the wood, but didn't disappear. Sleeping, but not dead.
"You go ahead, I'll follow."
"Whaddya mean?" Harry questioned, but she just winked at him before bursting into a cloud of thick mist, vaguely the same shape and size as a person. The cloud of mist flew up to the ceiling and promptly spread out so thin he could hardly tell it was there if he wasn't looking specifically for her.
"That's so fucking cool." Harry breathed, and Celestine's melodic laugh echoed in his mind.
Harry found Ron and Hermione in a derelict sitting room on the third floor. The room was absolutely caked in dust and cobwebs, and a liquor cabinet in the far corner had the tell-tale shakes of a doxie infestation. They'd need Sirius' help with that. The room had two rather large windows on the far wall, but the thick and dusty curtains were drawn tight, not letting an ounce of sunlight into the room. Harry took special note of that, and made a mental note to make sure they stayed that way.
Ron was half heartedly wiping down an ancient looking leather loveseat using an old rag and a bucket of yellowish cleaner. Harry really thought he ought to be using gloves. That cleaner cannot be good for his skin, and chemical burns are no joke.
Hermione, meanwhile, was on her hands and knees, scrubbing at a rather large, dark brown stain on the dusty, but otherwise spot free, wood floor with a horse hair brush. Unlike Ron, Hermione had the good sense to wear gloves. Her wild mane was pulled back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face while she cleaned, and Harry noted that she was glaring at the stain as if it had personally offended her.
He'd bet galleons to knuts that she'd been trying to clean that spot for at least an hour without success.
Harry leaned up against the door jam, arms crossed. Above him, a thin but barely visible mist slipped into the room and pooled along the ceiling.
"Missus Weasley got you cleaning again?" He was aiming for joking commiseration, but it came out far too harshly to be taken as a joke. Still, he tried to smile and act like nothing big was happening.
"Harry!" Hermione whipped around to give him a bright smile. "Where have you been this morning?"
"Yeah, mate," Ron added. "You've been missing out on all these wonderful chores!" He finished with a snort and a roll of the eyes.
He shrugged in response. "I was sleeping. Had a really long night. Have either of you seen Sirius today?"
"Oh, he and mum got into a huge row this morning." Harry turned a sharp gaze Ron's way at that. "She set us to cleaning to get us out of their hair, I think." Ron lamented.
"Any idea what they were arguing about?" He asked as casually as he could, but he could feel his shoulders tightening in worry already. Ron just shrugged carelessly, the thought of those two fighting seemingly not bothering him in the slightest. And why should it? Harry thought to himself. After all, they hadn't seen eye to eye about a lot of things before last night. They have no reason to think this time was any different.
But, Hermione was looking at him shrewdly. Knowingly.
"Why do I get the feeling that you know what they were fighting about?" She accused him lightheartedly.
"Well," Harry started. "That might be because I probably do." They both turned curious looks his way, and he pushed off the door jam to hold his hands out in the universal symbol for 'wait.'
"Now, it's a bit of a story. I've gotta lay some foundation before we get to that, and I was wanting to tell you both about my night anyway." He blew out a breath, looking heavenward as if seeking guidance. "Where to start?"
"The beginning is usually a good idea." Hermione replied, far too innocently to be anything other than pure sass. Celestine's chuckle rolled through his mind, and he smiled, shaking his head.
"Well then, let me start by saying that I know what I did was astonishingly dumb, but it worked out in the end, so restrain yourself from yelling or slapping me until I'm done, yeah?" He looked at them both as he said it, but he finished by giving Hermione a pleading look. She huffed, crossing her arms, but nodded her agreement.
"Fine then, let's hear it."
"Yeah, mate," Ron added, more excited and joking than Hermione's serious air. "What'd you do? Sneak out for a midnight ride on Buckbeak?"
"Er, well, no." Harry stuttered. "I did sneak out though." Ron looked impressed, and Hermione raised a disapproving brow in his direction.
"I had another vision. Last night." He muttered, only just loud enough for them to hear. Ron's amusement drained away, finally realizing this was serious, and Hermione only narrowed her eyes. He could see the gears turning in that brilliant mind of hers.
"Voldemort was going to a cemetery near here. I recognized it, and what he was up to just… felt important." He took a deep, fortifying breath; preparing for their inevitable reactions. "So I grabbed my cloak and followed him."
"What!?" His friends shouted in unison. Hermione was on her feet in an instant and rushing over to him. He braced himself, ready for a smack or stern talking to, but she threw her arms around him in a bone crushing hug instead. He blinked several times as his mind tried to catch up. He looked at Ron, and Ron was staring at him with his jaw on the floor.
"I'm so glad you're alright!" Hermione cried into his shoulder. Harry awkwardly wrapped one arm around her to pat her comfortingly on the back.
"So, you're not mad at me?" He asked hopefully. She snorted and let him go, stepping away to level her patented 'Hermione is Disappointed in You' glare on him.
"Of course I am! That was rash and far too dangerous!"
"Yeah mate," Ron agreed.
"You should have woken us up! Going alone was beyond stupid, Harry!"
"Yeah - wait, what?" Ron looked at her like she'd just grown a second head.
"Time was of the essence, Hermione. I had to sprint most of the way there! I only barely caught sight of him before he opened some secret entrance into the catacombs and vanished. If I'd have taken the time to wake you guys up and convince you to come with me I would've missed my chance." Harry insisted, nearly desperate for her to understand.
She huffed. "We'll discuss your willingness to throw yourself into dangerous situations alone and defenseless later. So, you followed Voldemort into the catacombs, I presume?"
"Yeah," Harry explained. "I had to reopen the door myself, but I followed him in -"
"How did you open the door without your wand?" Hermione cut in. "I assume it was magical in some way." From anyone else it would have sounded like a question, but Hermione was so confident in her supposition that it just came out as a statement.
Harry sighed, exasperated already, and yet there was a thread of fondness for his strong headed, confident, scarily brilliant bookworm of a best friend that made him smile.
"The door just needed a blood sacrifice, and I had my penknife with me." Hermione nodded, accepting that answer. "It was ages of empty catacombs before we got to this great big chamber that turned out to be a magical elevator -"
"Like the one at the Ministry's guest entrance?" Ron questioned, clearly absorbed.
"Yeah, but so much bigger and it went way further down. Was powered by blood too. Ol' Tommy Boy had to put some of his blood into a goblet to get it moving."
"That's twice now you've mentioned magic powered by blood sacrifice." Hermione pointed out thoughtfully. "Blood magic is rare and powerful. I wonder -"
"Well you'll stop wondering if you would stop interrupting and let me tell the story." Harry interrupted teasingly. Hermione rolled her eyes but he could see mirth in her eyes.
"Well get on with it then!" Ron shouted. "I wanna know what Harry's been up to as much as you do, ya know." He said to Hermione.
"Right!" Harry said loudly to cut off whatever Hermione was about to say in response. "The elevator finally stopped, and it let us out into what was probably the most beautiful and magical place I've ever seen." He breathed reverently, remembering his brief time in the Undercity the previous night.
"It was a grand marketplace. Hundreds, maybe thousands of stalls lined the streets; everything from food stalls to an honest to Merlin blacksmith! And the streets were absolutely packed with people going about their lives. Just, shopping, and eating, and laughing. It was hectic, bustling, alive in a way that no other magical settlement I've been to has been. Hermione, if you could've seen it you would've freaked! The ceiling was enchanted just like the Great Hall, but on such a grand scale that it was just astounding."
"It sounds lovely, Harry, but what was Voldemort doing there?" Hermione cut in again. Harry shook himself, realizing he'd gotten a bit distracted.
"So, the guards, did I mention that Voldemort was met immediately by an escort?" At their blank looks he realized he hadn't. "Right, so as soon as he arrived two guards materialized out of the shadows, and I realized pretty quick that they were vampires."
Ron's eyes nearly bugged out of his head and his face lost much of its color. Hermione, on the other hand, merely tilted her head thoughtfully. Harry continued before either of them could interrupt again.
"I stuck myself to Voldie's back as best I could, trying not to be found out, and as I looked around I realized something." He paused dramatically, knowing that Celestine would appreciate it. "Most of the vendors and the people in the crowd were vampires and other 'dark creatures' too." He said 'dark creatures' like it was a horrible slur that tasted awful in his mouth.
"Merlin Harry, what kind of place did you stumble into!?" Ron nearly shouted.
"At the time, I didn't really know," Harry neatly sidestepped Ron's question. "Anyway, Voldie was led by his escort to this - I have no other way to describe it - palatial Roman castle, manned to the gills with more vampiric guardsmen. Two of which broke off to box Voldemort in, and lemme tell you, he did not like that. Not one bit."
Ron was starting to look a bit green, but Hermione took the bait.
"Not like it, how?"
"He was afraid," Harry intoned seriously. "Or at least very nervous. That was when I realized that he was there to negotiate with someone. He was led through the palace and into a throne room eventually, and there was the Lord of the Undercity: Lord Erasmus Livius."
"It was made abundantly clear that Tommie Boy was an unwanted guest bordering on an unwelcome intruder, so they got right to the point. Voldemort asked Lord Livius to help him overthrow the Ministry, and in return he would give vampires the rights and protections that they deserve." Ron snorted, muttering something under his breath that Harry didn't quite catch.
"Did this Lord Livius accept the offer?" Hermione whispered, clearly concerned. Voldemort gaining more followers, especially powerful ones, would be bad news in the extreme.
"He considered it. And I tell you that was one of the single most terrifying moments of my life. I'd never seen Voldemort act the way he did down there. Respectful, almost deferential. I knew that Lord Livius was someone to be feared and respected, and the thought of what they could do together?" Harry shook his head, eyes wide at the thought.
"It chilled me to the bone. But then, his daughter stepped out from the shadows behind his throne, and he asked her her opinion. I was standing at the foot of the dais, watching her consider Voldemort's offer, and I just started screaming in my head not to trust him." Harry laughed, amazed still by what happened in the next moment. His friends both sent him concerned looks, but he just looked at them with wide, astounded eyes.
"She looked right at me." Ron's face drained of all color, and Hermione's jaw dropped.
"I thought you had the cloak?" Hermione asked.
"I did," Harry confirmed. "She heard my thoughts, Hermione, and for an instant I thought I was about to die, but then she did what no one but the two of you and Sirius had ever done before. She actually listened to me."
"What?" Ron asked, totally dumbfounded.
"I know!" Harry agreed excitedly. "Totally blew me away. So, Moldyshorts gets sent away with a stern reminder not to come back unless summoned," the thought still makes Harry chuckle. "And I get told, rather firmly, to stay behind and chat."
"What'd you do?" Ron asked breathlessly. "How did you escape?"
Harry didn't like that assumption, but he let it slide this time. "I didn't." He shrugged. "I convinced them not to side with Voldemort, and even gave them my own counteroffer." He added proudly.
"You made a deal with a vampire!?" Ron nearly shrieked, sounding very much like his mother. Harry rocked back on his heels, surprised.
"Well, yeah."
"Why?" Ron demanded. Hermione watched on, clearly lost in thought but still listening.
"Why not?" Harry shrugged. "Honestly I'd be more nervous making a deal with the Gringotts goblins. Lord Livius and Celestine are good people."
"Good people, he says!" He threw his hands in the air. "Harry, mate, they're vampires!"
Harry narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to his Best Mate. "You want to explain why that's a bad thing?" He bit out.
"I'm sure what Ron meant was -" Harry held up a hand without looking at her, effectively cutting her off.
"No, Hermione. Don't help him here. I want to hear him explain himself." Ron looked between the two of them, clearly feeling penned in and not liking it.
"Blimey, Harry, do you really not know?"
"Know what, Ron?" He stepped closer, refusing to break eye contact with the taller boy.
"Vampires, vampires, mate, are Dark Creatures." Harry raised an eyebrow in Ron's direction.
"So? What's your point?"
"Bloody hell they're evil is what's my point!" Harry immediately took a step back, disappointed and beyond incensed. If he got any closer he'd be liable to hit his friend, and that wouldn't solve anything.
Ron wasn't finished, however.
"They're inhuman monsters that steal into people's homes at night to drain them dry! They're killers, they're dangerous, and they're not to be trusted!" Ron blustered out, breathing heavy, face gone red with frustration.
Harry crossed his arms and just looked at his friend for a very long, very tense moment.
"Then you'll be rather upset with me, because I swore a blood oath with one last night." Harry said, perfectly calmly, even as his heart beat heavy in his chest. He was starting to think that this conversation would cause even more irreparable damage to his and Ron's friendship. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want to lose Ron.
"What!? Harry you blighted idiot, what were you thinking?"
But he did swear an oath, and he has every intention of honoring it.
"Maybe I was thinking that it felt right, Ron!" Harry roared, out of patience. "Maybe I realized, in the short time I spent with them in their city, that they were people too. Maybe I realized that they were cast out, hated, hunted, and worse by the society that was supposed to protect and care for them. Maybe I realized that they were just like me!"
Ron shook his head, clearly not listening, and opened his mouth to say something that Harry knew would drive him to violence, so Harry talked right over him.
"Think about it Ron, really think about what you've been saying. Have you got all your arguments in your head? Good, now replace the word 'vampire' with 'mudblood,' because you sound just like Malfoy right now." Ron's hands clenched into fists and he stepped right into Harry's personal space.
"You take that back!" He shouted, not even an inch from Harry's face, but he didn't so much as flinch.
"You wouldn't be so insulted if you didn't know I was right." He snarled back. Their eyes locked, sky-blue on killing curse green, separated only by Harry's glasses and a few inches of space buzzing with potential violence. For several breaths, neither of them moved, and then, to Harry's complete and utter shock, Ron backed down. His eyes skittered away, and then he stepped away, letting out a harsh, blustering breath.
"Alright, look, mate." Ron started, clearly maintaining his calm by a thread. "I ain't saying you're right, but you're my friend, so either way I've got your back, yeah? Even if you are making crazy deals with the devil in the middle of the night."
Ron's gaze stayed glued to his shoes, unwilling to meet Harry's as he regarded his friend critically. This is it, he realized. This is the moment that Ron goes from Best Mate to just another friend.
He's let him down for the last time.
He's just not listening! He's not challenging himself, or his preconceived notions. He's not even pretending to.
Harry is sick of this. What happened to the boy that was willing to brave every danger and even sacrifice himself for his friends? What happened to the arachnophobe that walked into the largest acromantula nest in the country in search of information that could keep an innocent man out of Azkaban? Why has Hermione stayed true, and grown even greater than she was, while Ron has fallen so far away from the good person he was?
Or, at least that Harry thought he was.
It was Ron's fault that Hermione was in danger first year to begin with. He was unnecessarily cruel, and it sent a good person into a spiral that would've gotten her killed if Harry hadn't made him go looking for her.
That's just it, isn't it? Harry had to drag Ron along behind him into all of their adventures, with the only exception being the Chamber. It figures that Ron would only choose the right path, no matter how hard it was, for the sake of his own family. And Harry? Harry is only almost family. If Harry wants Ron's support, he has to drag him along behind him.
And Harry is tired of carrying dead weight.
So, Harry takes a deep breath, trying desperately to fortify himself in the face of the deterioration of the first friendship he ever had, and lets it out in a massive sigh.
"Alright, Ron. Fine. But, think about what I said, yeah?" He tries one last time, one last olive branch -
"Yeah, sure." Ron agrees too quickly. Dismissively. Eager to ignore his own shortcomings and just keep coasting along as if nothing is wrong.
Hermione edges into Harry's vision, perching herself on the arm of the loveseat. She's looking between the two of them with something like heartbreak in her eyes. She knows that something has just been broken. Something that isn't likely to be fixed anytime soon.
Hermione doesn't comment on the argument, and Harry is grateful for that. The two of them can talk about it later.
"So, what was this oath you swore?" She asked instead. Ron looked up, and Harry stepped back a bit, shoving his hands in his overly-large jean pockets.
"We, Hermione," Harry corrected. "Celestine and I swore oaths to each other." Hermione waved her hand as if to say 'yes, yes, but that doesn't answer my question.' Harry closed his eyes as he remembered: Celestine and himself stood across from each other around a flaming chalice. They held their hands out, cut their palms, and let their blood drip into the flame as they incanted the words they had decided upon.
"Iuro per sanguinem et honorem perdat Voldemort, Sublondinium praesidio tueri se adversus Maledictus Creaturae et auferam iniquitatem omnino necessarium." He recited, the words having burned themselves into his memory. Blood oaths have power, nothing on the level of an unbreakable vow, but Harry knows he will never forget what he is sworn to do. Not now, and not until the day of his death. Perhaps not even then.
His friends both looked at him blankly for a moment before Ron said: "Mate, we don't speak latin. English, yeah?"
Harry chuckled shortly. "Right. Basically: we vowed to destroy Voldemort, protect each other, and to undo the Maledictus Creaturae by any means necessary."
"Yer still speaking latin there, Harry." Ron laughed.
"Yes, what is the 'Maledictus Creaturae?'" Hermione added.
"Celestine would be better at explaining that one," Harry admitted. "And I haven't even gotten to why Sirius and Missus Weasley were arguing yet, so can we shelve that for now?" Hermione was hesitant, but nodded anyway, and Ron just shrugged, so it was agreed to shelve that topic for now.
"Right, so basically -" Harry had no idea how to say it, so he said 'fuck it' and just threw it out there. "I brought Celestine here last night, and Missus Weasley was not happy to find a vampire sitting in the kitchen with me." He finished bitterly, still upset that she didn't just trust him; that she insisted on believing the worst about someone she just met because of what they are rather than who they are.
He really shouldn't be surprised by Ron's attitude, he realizes. She did raise him, after all.
"Your mum attacked her," he spat, unable to hide how upset he still was about that. "And I had to get in between them to keep anyone from getting hurt. Sirius was not happy with Missus Weasley because of that, far as I could tell." He finished with a shrug. "So, yeah. That's why they were arguing I reckon."
"Wait, back up a second there Harry." Ron held his hands out in front of him while Hermione nodded her head furiously next to him. Her eyes were round as saucers.
"Why'd you bring a vamp- er, her back here?" Ron finished.
"Oh really Ronald," Hermione cut in. "That's obvious. They swore to protect each other, and you can't very well protect someone if you aren't near them." She rolled her eyes, and Ron grumbled something nasty that Harry willfully ignored.
"What I want to know," 'Mione turned to him, that spark of curiosity that she always got when unraveling a mystery in her eye. "Is how she got passed the Fidelius."
"Bloody hell, I forgot about that! Yeah, how did she do that?" Ron demanded, a notable hint of real fear creeping into his voice.
Harry opened his mouth to explain, but then he got a devilish idea. A glance at the ceiling showed a vaguely human shaped cloud of mist clinging there directly above him. He turned a smile that was all teeth on that cloud of mist.
"I think she can answer that question." He said without looking away from her. He heard a feminine gasp and a hastily indrawn breath and knew that his friends had noticed her too. The mist condensed, pressing inwards until, in an instant, the mist was gone; replaced with the maniacally grinning Celestine, fangs on full display, staring down at them from where she stood, irrespective of gravity, on the ceiling.
For a moment, she just looked at them, her luminescent eyes switching between them predatorially. She looked, with her head tilted back as far as she could to stare straight down at them, with her robes defying gravity to fall straight up, like a cheshire cat that just caught sight of three hapless mice.
Naturally, her eyes stuck to his the moment they made contact, and Harry felt oddly gratified by that fact. He took a step back just as she detached from the ceiling, falling in a graceful flip to land on her feet, knees bending to absorb the impact, right next to him. Her armor made surprisingly little noise, and Harry wondered if it was enchanted or if it was just a vampire thing. She straightened to her full height, looked between Ron and Hermione's shocked expressions, took in and appreciated the lengthy silence between them, and laughed lowly.
Ron made a rather pathetic 'meep' sound as all the blood in his face drained away yet again. Hermione just stared, slack jawed, at Celestine.
"I think we broke them, darling." She turned to him, mirth shining in her celestial eyes.
He laughed, caught in her gaze and unable to look away.
"Give her a moment and Hermione will be throwing questions at you at lightning speed. Ron might need more than a moment, though." He sassed.
"Hey!" Ron spluttered, a blush fighting against his face's attempt to drain of all color.
"Hmm, seems you had it backwards, mella." Celestine mused.
"It's not often that I've seen Hermione speechless before." Harry admitted, some concern for his friend leaking into his voice now. "'Mione? You good?"
That seemed to break her out of her stupor. She blinked rapidly, shook her head, and said: "Yeah, Harry, I'm fine. I just have so many questions! I don't even know where to start!" Harry shot Celestine a look that screamed 'Told you so' and she slapped his arm playfully in response.
"You're really a vampire? What's it like? How much blood do you need to drink to survive? Do vampires have to kill when they feed? Are you burned by the sun? Can vampires do any sort of magic that wizards can't? Oh oh oh!" She bounced in her seat excitedly, a massive smile showing off her perfectly white teeth.
"You just have to explain how you subverted the fidelius!" Hermione's excitement was contagious, and Harry couldn't contain his smile. Celestine herself gave the girl an amused grin.
Ron, however, groaned loudly and rolled his eyes as if Hermione's inquisitiveness and thirst for knowledge was somehow a bad thing. Harry frowned at him briefly, then decided he wasn't worth the effort and ignored him.
Hermione ignored him with practiced ease, utterly focused on Celestine.
Celestine, on the other hand? She locked onto him immediately, something fierce and dangerous pulling her lips into a truly frightening smile.
"Oh, I'm sorry Ronald, did you have something you wanted to say?" She tilted her head just a little too far to be curious; stepping into threateningly sarcastic range.
"Uhhh," Ron stammered out.
"Did you want to tell me to my face that I'm not a person, perhaps?" She snarled, fangs flashing as all traces of false cheer vanished as if they had never been there to begin with.
Ron sank into the loveseat behind him, legs having decided to just give up entirely. He didn't make a sound, but the wide, utterly terrified look on his face told the whole story. He genuinely feared for his life at that moment.
Harry wondered if he should put a stop to this or not. It's probably no less than what he deserves for what he said, if he's honest with himself, and maybe it'll finally break through that thick skull of his, but Harry isn't really watching Ron.
No, he's too busy watching his own personal avenging angel let loose her righteous fury, and thoroughly enjoying it.
"Or, do you not have the spine to flaunt your prejudice in the face of those that you yourself would watch be eradicated without thought or care? You worthless worm." She spat, literally spat on Ron's foot, in a move so utterly disrespectful that Harry knew that he'd have to use it on Snape if he ever got half a chance.
That managed to piss Ron off enough to shove his fear aside. Face thunderous, he shot to his feet and made to get in Celestine's face the way he had Harry earlier.
Harry, understanding on some instinctive level that Ron would likely not walk away from doing something so blasted stupid, stepped in front of her.
"Think carefully about what you're about to do, mate." He warned, utterly serious.
Ron's face twisted in a sneer, and in the next instant he was throwing a wild right hook towards Harry's jaw. Harry tensed, ready to take it and then kick his friend out of the room as quick and hard as possible.
The blow never landed.
Celestine's hand darted out over his shoulder, catching Ron's fist easily, despite his hand being larger than her own.
Surprised, Harry turned and saw that Celestine was leveling a black glare on the redheaded boy that had had the temerity to try and attack someone she had sworn on her life to protect right in front of her. Harry had a moment to think 'oh Ron is fucked,' before Celestine used her grip on his fist to reel him in, catching him by the throat with her other hand, effectively bringing him and Harry face to face, with her pressed up against his back.
"Now, Ronald." She uttered lowly, nothing but malice in her voice and expression. Ron tried to say something, but she clamped down harder on his throat, literally choking his words away.
His free hand came up to scrabble at the gauntleted hand that Harry only just realized was holding him off of the ground.
"You are going to apologize." She started, practically hissing the words. Harry could feel them vibrating against him from how they were pressed together. He couldn't take his eyes away from the gradually purpling face of his former friend. He should probably be objecting right now; trying to get her to release Ron and not make her situation here any more tense than it needs to be, but Ron is prideful and Harry knows it.
He won't tell anyone what happened in this room unless he really gets hurt.
"To me, yes, for the horrible things you have said about me and my people, but more importantly? You are going to apologize to Harry. And you are going to be sincere, aren't you? Since you care so much for your friend that you'd hate to hurt him, wouldn't you? Now, speak."
She relaxed her hold on his throat enough for him to breath, but not enough to escape her grasp. He coughed, roughly, and Celestine forcefully turned his head away so he didn't cough right in Harry's face.
He shouldn't feel touched by that little bit of care, given the circumstances. He really, really shouldn't.
Once his coughing fit was over, Ron was turned to look at him again. Watery blue eyes met killing curse green, with nothing between them but his glasses, and one pissed off, protective vampire.
"I'm sorry." He muttered. "I'd have never said those things if I'd known you could hear me." Harry glowered, and he had a feeling Celestine did too, because Ron's eyes were fixed somewhere above him when he swallowed nervously.
"And I, I-" Then, just like that, Celestine tossed Ron away with a disgusted noise. He stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet.
"He doesn't even understand what he did wrong. He's just a petulant child parroting what his parents taught him without thought. And he knows it." Celestine hissed, arms wrapping protectively around Harry, holding him to her. He relaxed into her embrace immediately, covering her hands with his own.
Ron glared at them, but said nothing, having finally realized that he'd dug himself quite the hole and he should really put the shovel down now.
"Somehow, I'm not surprised." Harry whispered, more to himself than anything. Then, to Ron, he said: "Go. Think about this, will you? Really think about it. This doesn't have to be the end for us, Ron."
Ron's anger shuddered at that, as he realized that this fight was actually going to have lasting consequences. Harry watched as Ron fought with himself, between leaving, and staying to fight more, or staying and really apologizing. Ron swayed on the spot, indecisive, for several long moments.
And then, Harry saw the moment Ron's wounded pride won the battle. He puffed himself up, snorted derisively, and then stormed out of the room without a word. The door slammed shut behind him hard enough to send dust raining down from the walls themselves.
For a long time, Harry just stared at the door Ron had fled through.
So.
That's that, is it?
Friends since they were eleven, and Ron can't even figure out how he fucked up?
He was Harry's friend. He was supposed to care. To listen. To try. Harry had. So, so many times over the years Harry had had to bend himself over backwards trying to understand his best mate. Every time Ron acted like learning about actual fucking magic was boring, and their time was better spent playing chess or exploding snap, Harry had wanted so badly to argue.
Sometimes he did, but not often enough. Harry knows that his grades are a poor reflection of his true ability. All because he was trying not to rock the boat with Ron too much.
And all that did was push a wedge between him and Hermione, didn't it? A gangly, redheaded wedge that Harry is honestly relieved to have gone. Maybe now he'd be able to join Hermione in the library without feeling obligated to leave her earlier than he'd like. Because he liked studying with Hermione. Ron just never let him do it.
Hermione, who was quietly sniffling behind him. He turned to look, and sure enough she had sagged into the loveseat proper, and was watching the door the same as him. He tapped Celestine on the arm, and she let him go without question, and then he was kneeling before his best friend.
"Hey," he said softly. "Don't cry, 'Mione. It'll be alright." She looked at him with wide, wet eyes.
"How can you say that, Harry? Ron is your best friend, and he - and you -"
"This has been a long time coming, honestly." Harry sighed, and Hermione just looked shocked. "After last year, after the way he abandoned me and forced you to do the same - don't even argue, I know you didn't really want to distance yourself from me - I did some thinking. About him. About us. And I realized that he wasn't really the best person, and was never my best friend."
Harry shook his head, but didn't shy away from Hermione's searching eyes.
"Today I realized that Ron wasn't the person I thought he was. He's been more of a weight around my neck these last few years than anything else. And I am so bloody tired of dragging around that dead weight." She still looked plainly shocked, so Harry leaned in closer, resting his arms casually on her knees.
"Aren't you?" He wondered. "You're the only reason Ron has passed any of his classes at all. He's been a weight around your neck as much as he has been to me. Aren't you tired of dragging him along to success he isn't willing to work for himself?"
She blinked several times. "Well, yes." She admitted haltingly. "I just never expected you to realize how, how," she trailed off, unsure how to phrase it.
"How much of a useless twit he is?" Harry finished for her. Celestine chuckled, and Harry became aware of the fact that she was standing right next to him, her hand a comforting weight on his shoulder.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but he could see her fighting a smile. "I wanted to say: 'utterly feckless idiot.' But, that works too." Harry barked out a laugh, and Hermione stopped fighting her grin. "I'm proud of you Harry."
"What?" Harry asked, surprised.
"You stood up to him. Really stood up to him when you disagreed with him on something truly important. You put your foot down, stood your ground, and didn't even flinch. That's usually my job." She finished cheekily, but Harry looked plainly devastated as he realized how absolutely right she was.
"Christ, 'Mione I'm so sorry. I should have done this ages ago, or better yet! Never let him walk all over me like I did. I don't -" He trailed off, too ashamed of himself to continue.
"I understand why you did, Harry, and I'm not upset with you for it. I'm upset with Ron for taking advantage of it." She finished venomously, but Harry got stuck on the first half of her statement.
"You understand?" He asked faintly.
"Well, yes," she started, suddenly unsure of herself. He gave her a pleading look, and she explained. "I, well, I had gathered from what little you told us, but more so what you didn't tell us about your relatives, that your home life was, was bad."
Harry swallowed convulsively.
"And I knew that Ron was your first real friend. It would make sense, given your… childhood, that you would latch onto the first person you found that treated you somewhat decently. And for all his faults, Ron was never unkind to you, was he? Not until recently, that is."
"That makes such a scary amount of sense that I don't know how I didn't realize it myself." He muttered. "How long have you known that, well, about my relatives?"
"I suspected something at the start of second year, when it was clear that you had lost weight over the summer." Celestine drew in a breath, and let it out slowly in an effort to remain calm, so Harry took her hand in his and pulled her with him to sit on the loveseat next to Hermione.
He rather immediately realized that the loveseat was too small for three people to sit side by side comfortably when, rather than even trying to squeeze in next to him, Celestine perched herself sideways on his lap, facing Hermione. Her arm wound around his neck, pulling them nearly face to face so Harry had to crane his neck back to meet her eyes, and her legs tucked under his own as easy as anything else. His arm went around her waist, ostensibly to keep her from falling off her perch.
In reality, he just wanted an excuse to hold her, and he knew it.
Within moments, Harry found himself with a lap full of Celestine, totally wrapped around him as best as she could manage in that position. He turned his face into her neck, took a deep, calming breath, and pressed his lips against her pulse point before he could overthink himself into inaction. She sucked in a breath in response, and let it out in a pleased sigh. Harry smiled cheekily, and turned to give Hermione his full attention again.
She was watching them with wide eyes, a blush staining her cheeks and beginning to creep down her neck.
"So, you suspected after second year?" He prompted when Hermione didn't look ready to say anything anytime soon. Celestine hummed encouragingly from her perch on his lap.
Hermione blinked and looked away, her throat working hard to dislodge her speechlessness.
"Right," She turned back to them after a moment, her shock gone and her blush already starting to fade.
Harry will never not be impressed by how fiercely she could maintain her focus despite any number of distractions.
"It wasn't until third year that I knew." Harry gave her a questioning look, and she elaborated. "Sirius asked you, within an hour of meeting him, if you wanted to go away and live with him. And you agreed. You didn't even hesitate. That was the moment that I knew that your relatives must be … well, some form of awful or another. I try not to let myself imagine exactly what kind of awful. Because, I tried, Harry!" She finished, somewhat desperately.
"You what?" He demanded.
Tears came to her eyes again, and she looked at him with such a crestfallen expression that it tore at his heart.
"I tried to find some way, any way, magical or otherwise, to get you away from them. But I was rebuffed at every turn. All your records in the Ministry are sealed so only the Chief Warlock or the Minister themselves can access them, and every time I sent anonymous tips to the local Bobbies nothing came of it, no matter how blatant the tip was." She fumed, wiping furiously at her eyes.
"I have to assume that someone, a wizard most likely, was intercepting anything to do with you and preventing them from acting on it. Memory charms most likely. I'm sorry, Harry, I tried everything I could think of." She finished despondently.
Harry didn't know what to say. His best friend in the whole world had tried to get him taken from the Dursleys. She'd figured out, not the specifics, but the generalities of his life with them, and her first instinct was to get him away.
God dammit, why had it taken Harry so long to realize that Ron wasn't a real friend when he had blooming Hermione to serve as an example all this time?
"Thank you, Hermione. Thank you so goddamn much." He hardly managed to get the words out through the emotion trying so hard to choke his words away.
"But," Hermione started, utterly baffled. "I failed. Why are you thanking me?"
Harry shook his head, astonished beyond words that she didn't get it. It was Celestine that answered for him.
"You tried, and that's the important thing. You cared enough to do everything in your power to get him away from a horrible situation. Whether you succeeded or not, the sentiment remains the same." She enunciated every word very carefully, making sure she left no room for misunderstanding. Harry nodded his head fervently along with her words.
"Yeah, and the fact that you even noticed that anything was wrong to begin with is no small thing, 'Mione." Harry whispered. "No one else did. Not even Madame Pomfrey."
Hermione ducked her head, but she was smiling so Harry was confident she'd be taking what they said to heart. Then she looked at him again, consideringly.
"Forgive me if this is an insensitive question, but," She chewed on her lip in a moment of indecision before barreling on. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"
Harry felt Celestine's attention swing to him and knew she was curious as well. He didn't see any point in lying, so he didn't.
"I did tell someone." He admitted. Then, before Hermione could ask the obvious follow up question: "I told the Headmaster."
Hermione rocked back, more shocked than Harry had ever seen her.
Harry continued. "He told me that no matter how much my family and I 'disagreed with each other' that I would still be safest there, with them." A load of utter shite, if you asked him.
"But why?" Celestine asked while Hermione struggled to even breath in her shock.
"Blood wards, tied to my aunt." Harry answered simply. Celestine's mouth pressed into a thin line, unimpressed with that reasoning in the extreme.
"But, but that's - that can't -" Hermione's confusion gave way to sulphurous fury in an instant. "It was him!" She shouted.
"What was him?" Harry asked, though he had a feeling where she was going with this.
"It was fucking Dumbledore that was intercepting my attempts to get the Bobbies to investigate your relatives! Possibly indirectly, but who else in this country would have that kind of influence? And you just spelled out his motivation! That absolute bastard! When I get my hands on him I'm going to grab him by his stupid beard and choke him with it!" She hissed and snarled and spat in her rage, so incredibly furious that the ever polite and respectful Hermione Granger cursed and threatened an authority figure.
On his behalf.
Harry was so incredibly touched that he couldn't help but laugh a little. Hermione turned her fury on him the instant he did.
"This isn't funny!" She insisted, and Harry nodded his agreement.
"Oh, I know. Believe me, I know." He sobered. "I'll never forgive Dumbledore for leaving me with them, especially after he knew how terrible they really were. And when you choke him?" Harry and Celestine smiled the same viciously vindictive smile.
"We're going to help you." Celestine finished sweetly. Harry gave her waist an affectionate squeeze, and she managed to snuggle even closer to him in response.
"I was laughing because I was so touched by your concern, 'Mione." Harry added. Hermione flushed and scoffed.
"Anyone would be concerned, Harry." She said dismissively, but Harry shook his head, an affectionate smile pulling at his lips.
"And yet, only you, Sirius, and Celestine have been so far. Funny, that." Harry shrugged carelessly, truly not all that bothered by the low number. They may be few, but they are the best people Harry has ever met in his life and he wouldn't trade them for an army of people like Ron.
Hermione frowned, but didn't argue the point.
"How did you figure it out so quickly, Celestine?" Hermione asked. Celestine gave him a questioning look, and Harry knew what she was asking him.
Should she mention his scars?
After a moment of deliberation, Harry shook his head.
"I didn't," Celestine answered plainly. "Harry told me." Technically not a lie, which is a plus.
"But, you two just met, why would you tell her something so private so soon?" Hermione was clearly hurt that Harry had told someone he just met something about himself that he hadn't shared with her in all the years they'd known each other.
"To be honest?" Harry started. "We spent almost the entire night together last night, and I know it isn't a very long time at all, but we just … I dunno, clicked?" He looked to Celestine for support, and she smiled adoringly down at him. Her eyes glittered, and Harry found himself, yet again, unable to look away.
"She gets me in a way that I don't really have words to describe. I told her because I had a feeling that she would understand." He shrugged self consciously, knowing his reasoning probably sounds slightly mad.
Celestine bent down to press their foreheads together.
"I felt the same," she muttered less than an inch from his lips. Her breath ghosted across his lips, warm and buzzing with her magic, and it sent a lightning bolt of heat straight down his spine.
"We clicked together like we were two cogs in the same clock. Like we were made for each other." She breathed, and Harry had the sudden urge to close that infinitesimal gap between their lips and find out just how well they really fit together.
Hermione cleared her throat, and Celestine jerked in his lap, clearly surprised. Harry blinked several times, willing the electric tension between them away as best he could.
He didn't exactly succeed.
She pulled away after a moment's hesitation, and they both turned to Hermione.
They'd completely forgotten she was there, hadn't they?
She was trying and failing to look like a disapproving parent, but the losing battle against her smirk gave her away.
"Well, that certainly answers my question." She snarked. Harry felt like his face was about to combust with how hot it had become. He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Are you sure? We could always spell it out for you." Celestine drawled suggestively, effectively turning the tables on Hermione as she immediately flushed and shook her head.
"Oh no, thank you! No demonstrations needed here. I've, ah, got the picture, yes." She stammered out as fast as she could. Harry chuckled genuinely.
"So, Hermione. What are your plans for the day?" Harry asked pleasantly. She immediately turned a harsh glower on the stain she'd been scrubbing earlier.
"Mrs. Weasley wants this room cleaned by dinner. She even threatened not to let us have lunch if we weren't progressing to her standards!" She scoffed. "If it weren't for that one stain this room would be almost finished by now. I've been working on it for over an hour and a half to no avail!"
Called it!
"You're using the wrong cleaner." Celestine said, clearly amused. "You need something stronger to get old bloodstains out of hardwood."
Hermione's glare faded away, replaced with revulsion. "It had better not be human blood or I don't care what Mrs. Weasley says: I am not cleaning that up."
Celestine gave her a patently fake look of deep sympathy. "Sorry dear, it most certainly is human blood if I had my guess."
"Well then my day just opened up rather dramatically." She huffed. "Did you have something in mind, Harry?"
"I'd like to get the rest of the introductions over with. Think you could corral the rest of the Weasleys, and whoever else might be staying here, in the lounge downstairs for a meet and greet? Preferably without Missus Weasley or Ron being present."
She sniffed, playfully offended. "And here I thought you might ask me to do something difficult." She drawled and stuck her nose in the air in such a spot on impersonation of Malfoy that Harry burst out laughing. Hermione held the act long enough to raise a single unimpressed eyebrow his way before she broke, joining Harry in his mirth. Celestine giggled a bit, not knowing Malfoy well enough to get the joke but finding the over the top poshness of it all absolutely ridiculous.
"Yeah, Harry," she said eventually, still giggling a bit. "I can do that. Meet me down there in twenty minutes?"
"We'll be there." He and Celestine said in near perfect unison, only to look at each other and descend into giggling again.
Author's Note: I had the first three chapters done a while ago. Originally intended them all to be one chapter, believe it or not. Don't go expecting updates to be this rapid moving forward. So! Celestine met Ron and Hermione. I promise I'm not gonna purposefully bash Ron, but I am going to portray him the way I see him. I won't lie, I don't like him. I think he's a shite friend in Goblet of Fire in ways that shouldn't be forgotten even if they are forgiven, and with this being right on the heels of that year, relatively speaking? Well, just makes sense for Harry to think the same way.
As always: your feedback gives me life, and I hope ya'll are doing well and succeeding at that thing that you've been working on so hard! Till next time.