The Boy Who Lived

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Voldemort has returned from the brink, and Harry Potter's resolve to protect his twin brother is put to the test in new, unfamiliar ways. There are few things he wouldn't do for Liam, but between a Ministry of Magic determined to bury the truth, the Daily Prophet's accompanying smear campaign, and the constant threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, Harry isn't sure even his efforts will be enough. OOC. Post GOF, WBWL OOTP AU, of a sort. Ravenclaw!HP. JP/LE. No Potter Bashing.

Rating: T for language, violence, and character death.

Tags: Ancient and Noble Houses, Betrothal Contract, Family Magic, Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Critical (Thinker) Harry, Powerful Harry, Politics, Ethics, Social Issues, Not Expanded Universe (Pottermore, Fantastic Beasts, Cursed Child, etc) Compliant, and plenty more I haven't thought to list.

Author: tlyxor1.

Author's Note: So many tropes, my friends, right from the get go. I shall try to avoid indiscriminate, nonsensical bashing of characters, but I make no promises. If you don't like it, then you know the way out. Otherwise, happy reading.

The Boy Who Lived

Chapter One:

Liam isn't sleeping well. His nights are fraught with memories of the Triwizard Tournament - in particular, the harrowing end to the entire debacle - and his screams ensure the rest of the family knows it.

There isn't much they can do about it, however. Harry's tried - sharing a bed, staying up with Liam for hours, hugging it out when he cries, tussling it out when the anger gets the best of him - and their parents have, too. Everything attempted is only a temporary fix, though, potions are not an option, and ultimately, it's a trauma Liam has to work through in his own time, in his own way, and the family can do naught but be there for him as he does so.

In the interim, they try not to coddle him. Harry drags him out for their usual morning run, pesters him about his holiday homework, plays one-on-one quidditch when they both feel like it. They bicker over their chores, about 'borrowed' clothes and the last piece of bacon. They commiserate over their summer lessons, about the rigorous, no-nonsense training sessions with the Marauders and Lily, about their inability to travel and socialise as freely as they have in the past. They fall into a routine in those early days of summer - disrupted only by their occasional spats - and it's oddly jarring when the routine is changed.

"I don't get it," Harry frowns over his breakfast, "Why is she coming here? Doesn't she have her own home to go to?"

"Don't be a git," Liam chides him, "Hermione's my best friend."

"I'm aware of that," Harry deadpans. "But she has her own family, doesn't she? The dentists?"

Harry doesn't know Hermione Granger well. She's been fairly hostile towards him since the early days of their first year, and as a result, Harry hasn't felt particularly inclined towards getting to know her. Not even her - seeming unbreakable - friendship with Liam can change that. As such, everything Harry knows about her is secondhand, but at least in this instance, it's accurate.

"The Death Eaters and Voldemort pose a significant threat to Hermione's wellbeing, and at her parents' home, she's defenceless," Sirius Black explains, "Dumbledore and her parents determined that it would be best to move her to a safer location."

"What about her parents?" Harry wonders, "Aren't they at risk, too?"

"They've been provided with portkeys," Sirius replies, "And they own a flat they'll be living in until everything with Voldemort is sorted. They should be all right."

Although Harry has never considered himself a particularly nice person, there's something oddly disconcerting about Sirius' nonchalance regarding the matter. Both of Harry's parents are frowning, their eyes on their meals, and there's a thoughtful furrow between Remus' eyebrows. It seems they're not satisfied with the measures taken to protect Dr and Dr Granger either, but they don't mention it now.

"Regarding Hermione, the Burrow was briefly discussed," Lily explains instead. She spears a slice of apple with her fork, and hovers it over her yoghurt, "But as you know, Arthur and Molly already have their hands full. Your father and I volunteered our home. We thought Hermione's company might do you boys some good."

"And you didn't want to ask us, first?" Harry grouses.

"We didn't think it would be an issue," James answers.

"But she hates me," Harry protests, "She spent all of last year glaring at me as if I killed that demon cat of hers!"

Liam rolls his eyes, exasperated. It's not the first time Harry's complained about the girl. "She doesn't hate you; she's threatened by you. There's a big difference."

"Threatened?" James frowns. He's not the only one - Sirius, Remus, and Lily do, too - and Harry scoffs, unimpressed and offended by their concern, "Did you do something, Harry?"

"As if," Harry scowls, "Give me some credit."

"Hermione likes to be the smartest person in the room," Liam explains, "But Harry's just as clever as her, so it doesn't always work out that way."

The adults are tickled by that revelation. They glance between themselves, smiling, chuckling, generally entertained by the notion, and Harry's mood sours further.

"I remember another muggle-born just like that," James says. He's grinning at Lily, hearts in his eyes, and Harry and Liam both sigh, long-suffering.

"You and I remember that muggle-born very differently, James Potter," Lily counters, but she's smiling too - laughing a little bit, even - and she doesn't mind the stroll down memory lane at all.

"I'm sure she'll get over it," Remus assures Harry, "Maybe her stay will allow you to find some common ground. Academia isn't everything."

"That'll be the day," Harry mutters. He proceeds to eat in a gloomy, sullen silence, not remotely enthused by the prospect, and the adults glance between themselves once more, concerned and guilty.

"We're sorry, Harry," Lily says, "We weren't aware you two didn't get along. I'm sure she can stay at the Burrow instead."

"It's fine," Harry answers. He can't deny that Hermione's presence would probably do Liam some good, and Harry can't take that away from his brother. Not when Liam still looks so exhausted. "I'll live."

"We don't want you to be uncomfortable in your own home, Harry," James persists, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Harry dully intones.

James nods uncertainly. "In that case, she arrives this evening."

Harry nods wordlessly, and finishes his breakfast in silence. The rest of them pick up conversations around him - quidditch, politics, work - and all the while, Harry tries not to brood over their impending house guest.

Harry doesn't dislike Hermione Granger - not really, anyway - but some of her habits irritate him, and he resents the fact that she resents him for no valid reason. As such, he's not remotely enthused by the thought that he's about to lose his summer reprieve from her glares and scowls and everything else, and he has no idea how he'll handle sharing living space with her. Hogwarts is one thing - they're in different houses, mostly different classes, and Liam is their only common interest, but Potter Manor is another matter entirely. It's large enough that he could probably avoid her if he was so inclined, but it's his home, and quite frankly, he's not inclined to do so, and he shouldn't have to be.

"I guess I should go clean my room," Liam frowns thoughtfully. He picks at the healing paste flaking off his chin, and around the table, the adults turn their sudden, sharp-eyed focus on him.

"Not that I'm disagreeing, but is there a reason Hermione will be spending much time in your room, William?" Lily asks. Her gaze is narrowed intently, and Liam stills like a startled deer.

"On that excruciating note," Harry pushes himself away from the table, "I have homework to do."

Without waiting for an acknowledgement from the adults, Harry hastily excuses himself from the kitchen. Liam catches his eye before he disappears around the doorway, his gaze panicked, and Harry tries not to feel bad about leaving him to the wolves. Liam's brought it on himself, anyway, and there are some conversations with their parents Harry would prefer to go his whole life without having to endure. Not even for Liam.

-!- -#-

The library of Potter Manor extends over three storeys. It's comfortably furnished and brightly lit, neatly organised into Non-Fiction and Fiction, and into sub-sections within those two categories. It's a place Harry spends a lot of his time - studying, relaxing, replacing outdated texts with their more recent editions - and it's where he retreats after a shower to wash off the sweat and grime accumulated during the family's early morning training session.

Specifically, he disappears into a discreet alcove within the Ancient Studies section. He's set up something of a temporary base there, spread out his research over a wide, four-seater study table, and the rest of his family is kind enough to pretend they don't know it - or his research - exists.

In this instance, however, Harry doesn't lose himself in his Ancient Runes project. Instead, he stares blankly at the haphazardly organised array of textbooks, journals, scrolls, loose parchments, inkwells, fountain pens and quills, and wonders how long it'll take for Hermione Granger to stick her beak in where it isn't wanted. He's not going to kid himself - the girl is too curious about everything not to do just that - and although inconvenient, perhaps it's time he moved everything to the small study attached to his bedroom.

"Smooth move there, lad," Remus greets him. He seats himself in one of the chairs adjacent to Harry, and carefully avoids examination of the papers spread out in front of him.

Harry huffs a sheepish laugh. "There's a lot of things I'd do for Liam, but sitting through that hell isn't one of them. How'd it go?"

"Well, we now know your brother isn't romantically interested in Miss Granger," Remus says conversationally, "But after Lily's interrogation, I'm sure he'll never want to bring a girl home to meet the family."

. He nods, unsurprised. "About what I expected, then."

Remus smiles, humoured, but he sobers quickly. "Are you really all right with Hermione staying here for the summer?"

"I'm fine," Harry rolls his eyes, a little exasperated by the continued concern, "She'll spend most of her time fussing over Liam, anyway. Hopefully, she'll hardly notice I'm around."

Remus seems hardly appeased, but he doesn't pursue the matter further. Instead, he quizzes Harry about his project, about his summer homework, about he and Liam's summer classes in Business and Estate Management, in Government, Law and Politics, in Deportment, in Rhetoric, in Mediation and Diplomacy. The lessons are being taught by the portraits of Charles and Dorea Potter - with regular input from Fleamont and Euphemia - and their tutors are strict, demanding taskmasters.

Harry hates most of the subjects, Liam hates them all, but they're important to their futures - Harry's, in particular - and thus, the lessons continue.

"And your dad says you'll be shadowing him this summer?"

Harry nods his confirmation. The plan is to spend a few afternoons a week in his father's workshop, observing, learning, being a general gopher as James Potter develops the best professional-quality brooms presently on the market. Also in the cards is to shadow him through sessions of the Wizengamot, at Gringotts,, during visits with tenants, and during meetings with the family's lawyers, and meetings with his father's political allies.

Between those, and the thrice-weekly training sessions in magical combat, Harry's sure that by September, he and his father will be sick to death of each other.

He says as much, and Remus grins. "Consider it cosmic payback for all the grey hairs he gave your grandfather."

"I'll be sure to tell him you said that," Harry answers dryly.

Remus clutches his heart, mock-wounded, but he's grinning. "Just for that, I won't help you ward your little study nook from curious house guests."

"So cruel, Moony."

"You brought it on yourself, lad."

Harry gives a theatrically mournful sigh. "It's the impetuousness of youth, I'm afraid. I haven't yet learned to consider the consequences of my actions."

Remus guffaws at that, and helps himself to a blank piece of parchment, a fountain pen, and an empty patch of tabletop. He outlines the schema for a temporary privacy ward, quizzes Harry on the reason behind each rune, and then challenges him to construct the ward scheme along the edges of his library alcove.

"You're joking!" Harry exclaims, wide-eyed.

"Not at all," Remus counters. He offers Harry a piece of plain chalk, and adds, "I think it's something you are perfectly capable of."

Harry's not sure he agrees, but he's never been one to turn down a challenge. He accepts the chalk, studies the ward scheme, and does his best.

The thing is, the difficulty isn't in drawing the runes themselves. THat's easy - Harry's been doing that for as long as he can remember - but rather, it's in the sizing and placement of each specific rune. In order to ward the entirety of the area intended, the runes need to be evenly spaced, evenly aligned, and evenly sized, and it takes years of practise to manage that on the first attempt.

It takes Harry nine.

"Well done," Remus commends him, offers Harry a piece of ritual chalk, and says mildly, "You know what to do with this, I'm sure."

Harry nods, and goes over the ward scheme with the chalk. In the absence of ward stones, it's what the magic will anchor itself to, and it doesn't take nearly as long to complete as the initial rune placement. Remus inspects his work when he's done, and nods his approval.

"How are you going to power it?"

"I don't want to take any magic away from the wards, so I guess I'll power it myself."

With Voldemort's return to a corporeal body, the wards surrounding Potter Manor - layered for maximum effect - have been strengthened. The wartime wards - modified and improved since 1981 - have been activated, too, and all together, they're a significant drain on the property's ambient magic.

Remus gestures vaguely at the powering rune, "By all means. You don't need to pour everything into it, though. Remember, it's only temporary."

Harry nods his acknowledgement, presses the tip of his wand to the appropriate rune, and funnels his magic into the ward scheme. He stops before he can start feeling any detrimental effects, though there's no telling how long the ward will stay powered for. That, too, is a skill that comes with practice, but for now, he'll just have to observe.

Remus steps out of his alcove, takes a moment to study Harry's work from the outside, and beams. "Congratulations, Harry. You've just successfully completed your first privacy ward."

And despite himself, Harry can't wipe the smile off his face for the life of him.

-!- -#-

AUthor's Note: A rewrite of another story I'd written and posted maybe last year, but hopefully better. Please, let me know your thoughts. Should I continue posting? I have a number of chapters pre-written, but I do so enjoy validation…

Thanks for reading, anyway. Hope you've enjoyed. -t.