Death's True Hallows

by Ensis96

She had electric blue hair and emerald green eyes that twinkled with mirth at their surprise, but what put her even more out of place was her clothing. She had no robe or House emblem, nothing Wizardly about her at all. The halfblood beamed at the Poltergeist of Hogwarts and brightly spoke words that had never once been said: "Hi Peeves, it's nice to meet you!" (A Next-Gen fanfic)

33. Ch 33 I Used to Know

Ch 33- I Used to Know

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To the people who read through this whole monster of a story for the first time because of my March update- wow you read fast. Thanks for coming!

To my favorites/followers who've been waiting far to long for this update... hi. How you doing. Thanks for coming back...

Okay Okay I left you at some really horrible cliffhangers. In my defense: Life. In apology: No cliffhanger today. I promise.

There's a lot more notes at the end of the chapter, please read those, but I'm not gonna keep you from these chapters any longer. Because as long as it took for me to actually write this stuff, you deserve to read it ASAP :)

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James Sirius Potter was reminded of a simple fact of life on his way home. The fact was: that all adults have lives outside of their children. Parents had responsibilities and commitments that weren't put on hold at a whim due to the presence and absence of their offspring. And his mother was no exception. This particular reminder meant a boring trip to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies.

Having been to the magical hospital multiple times- his Father's career was notoriously dangerous for one's health, after all- James was used to the drill. He stepped through the glass window of the convenience store Purge and Dowse, Ltd. with practiced ease. The fake storefront that had hidden the hospital since his parents were kids was as decrepit as ever, rats and spiderwebs settled into a building that SHOULD have been condemned years ago.

Really, James thought with a roll of his eyes, muggles were so oblivious.

The Welcoming Witch behind the desk was as un-Welcoming as ever. She scowled and sighed in turn, clearly embittered by her job as she dealt with the many magical accidents waiting in her lobby. There were people with purple warts and grotesquely disproportionate features like ears reminiscent of an elephant's. One guy had a crab claw instead of a hand.

They gave the various patients a wide berth, heading straight into the elevator. James was glad that there were so many people around, because he knew his Mum wouldn't chastise him in public for the events that had led to his suspension. Though he wished he had his glasses as he caught a few passing gazes.

The bell chimed when they got to the fifth floor, and James blinked in surprise. The Memory Ward? What were they doing here?

His mum walked forward without hesitation, leaving James no choice but to follow. There were a lot less visitors on this floor than James was used to in his previous visits to St. Mungos, and a lot more Healers everywhere. They went to the Restricted Security section, signing in and letting the Healer behind the desk record his Mum's wand.

While they double-checked that the yew wand she'd handed them matched the core and length of the wand on file for Ginny Potter, James signed his own form as a minor. He pursed his lips at the names that came before him; a lot of people seemed to be visiting some 'Avery' person. He blinked again when he saw that one of the signatures belonged to the Xavier Avery, the dark wizard Dad had been tracking down for decades. Did Dad know that the head of the Avery Organization had a personal interest in a patient here? James couldn't wait to tell him. He hurriedly flipped to a different page so his Mum wouldn't see it and tell Dad first. Indeed, she dutifully signed and went about her business without even a glance at the previous pages, hurrying him through the door and down the hall.

Hermione Granger-Weasley was sitting on a bench in the hallway, arms crossed as she stared at the closed door to room R-394 with an intensity that made criminals crack in her courtrooms. She glanced up at Ginny and tried to smile, but it just pressed her lips thinner together.

Mum sat next to his aunt close enough that their shoulders brushed. "Any news?" she asked, the first words she'd said since telling James they were stopping by the St. Mungo's before going home.

"He's awake." Aunt Hermione said blandly, sighing deeply. "The Healers are evaluating if he should be allowed visitors."

"And does he…?" Mum trailed off uncomfortably, and James frowned. He was not used to seeing his mom, professional Quidditch Seeker-turned-Sports Commentator, look uncomfortable.

"At least some. We're… not sure how much he remembers."

"-he who?" James interrupted, and was annoyed at the way they jumped. Really, he'd been here the whole time, so the least they could do was let him know what was going on.

"Uncle Ron." Mum said soberly, and reached over to grab Aunt Hermione's shoulder. "He was assisting a team of Aurors when- something, that's been known to cause amnesia, hit him. Not quite an Obliviate, but…"

"Possibly worse." his aunt picked up, her voice reaching cold and intellectual. "They've had sixteen previous cases, and in most of them, they haven't just lost memories, but they continue to do so. Some of them will forget certain things almost as soon as their existence is mentioned. Others will completely forget everything that's happened in the past days so frequently- well. One woman has been here for years, but doesn't know it." She glanced down the hall, presumably toward the specific room, but James couldn't tell which one precisely. "Ron could be the same."

James tried to take a moment to wrap his mind around this. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione had been as much a constant in his life as his own parents, and the idea of his uncle being stuck in a hospital for years was- well. He thought he understood their somber demeanors now.

"We don't know that for sure yet." His Mum said with a bit of chiding to her tone, then went on "But that's why I'm here. It seems older memories are more stable, so they thought a sibling would be best to talk with him."

She seemed to be waiting for his response, so James cleared his throat. "Well. Um. Should I- get some water, or something, while you wait."

Her smile seemed somewhat approving, which helped relax the tension he hadn't realized was building in him. "That would be great, sweetie, thank you."

By the time he got back with a couple of water bottles the Healer was talking to his family, and he waited for them to wrap up before approaching. Aunt Hermione set her bottle on the bench beside her as she asked "You sure you're up for this? I've known him since we were eleven, so I could…"

The two women shared a look, one of those annoying wordless conversations that adults sometimes had before reaching conclusions. Sure enough, his Mum shook her head definitively. "I'm ready."

"Let's go then," said the Healer who'd been speaking to them, pulling out a quick-quill pen to take notes as he led the way into Ron's room. This time they left the door open.

Aunt Hermione waited barely a moment before jumping to her feet, crossing the hall in two steps to eavesdrop on the conversation. James jumped right beside her, and rolled his eyes when Aunt Hermione started noisily rummaging in her purse. It had clearly been far too long since her time of eavesdropping, because she clearly didn't know anymore how not to get caught.

He had to concentrate to hear over her, and unfortunately he wasn't able to see much better than he could hear. Like all other rooms in St. Mungo's Hospital, there was a small hall and bathroom in his Uncle's treatment room. James had learned that some maladies seemed to result in- well, the kind of accident that made people grateful a bathroom was nearby. However now it was more an annoyance as the lavatory and the curtain around the bedside blocked all view of his uncle, only allowing them to see his mom and the Healer as they faced the same direction.

"Ginny! Thank Merlin, I was beginning to think they'd never let me see anyone. I thought-" Uncle Ron cut off with a piggish snort, audibly shifting on his bed. "Blimey, Ginny, what happened to your hair? Did Fred and George sneak you some aging potion again?"

James's spirits soared. He remembered Fred! He looked to his Aunt and only then remembered his cousin's full name was Fred Jr., named after an uncle he'd never met. One who'd died in the Battle of Hogwarts.

His mum's voice was strained with her own memories as she answered. "No he- they didn't, Ron. This is natural. I'm afraid that- it seems you've lost some of your memories, Ron."

There was a long moment of silence inside the room, during which Aunt Hermione made a small hum of success as she pulled a compact mirror out of her purse. She waved her wand and muttered something under her breath as she tossed it forward.

Instead of shattering on the ground the mirror hovered and it stretched and shifted in the air like it had been possessed by silly putty, growing in length then squishing in the opposite direction before stretching thin like bubblegum about to be popped. When it stopped, the small compact had been transfigured into a full-grown, mounted mirror that settled itself softly onto the ground on the opposite corner of the curtain. It was perfectly angled so that James and his Aunt had a full view of Uncle Ron in his bedrest.

James felt his jaw drop- deciding this spell was something Aunt Hermione absolutely needed to teach him at the next opportunity- and refocused on the conversation they were listening to.

It still didn't seem anything had been said, though. Uncle Ron's face was pale and motionless, his eyes scanning his little sister's face for any sign that this was just an iconic prank that would be remembered for ages, like the acid-pop incident or his teddy bear-turned-spider.

"Ron…" Mum eventually said, speaking over the scritch-scratching of the healer's quill. "Ron, say something."

"That's why you were asking what year it was." Uncle Ron said to the Healer, then leaned back in the hospital bed and closed his eyes. "How long?"

"It's 2020."

"So I'm- I'm… I am 40 years old? I turned old?" Ron sat up with a jolt and put his hands on his head, then sighed with relief. "Oh thank Merlin at least I'm not bald."

Aunt Hermione scoffed, shaking her head. "Really Ronald…"

James snorted too. They should keep Uncle Ron away from mirrors after they finished with this one, because while he wasn't bald the man's hair was definitely thinning.

"There's a chance that you could have a relapse in the middle of this conversation," the Healer spoke up. "So I'll be checking in every now and then. As Mrs. Potter speaks with you, I'm going to need you to raise your right hand every time I say-"

"Misses who now?" Ron interrupted and whirled in the bed to stare with bug-eyes. "Mrs. Po… you married…"

"-hopscotch." The Healer finished somewhat sheepishly.

"Harry. Yes." Ginny answered.

"Hopscotch."

Uncle Ron looked confused for a moment, but then his expression cleared up as he remembered and raised his right hand. "Harry. My best friend Harry. And my little sister. My best friend married my little sister. My little sister married my best Harry." He ran both hands through his hair again and left them there, slumping behind them as though trying to hide from reality.

"He did the same thing on their wedding day, you know." Aunt Hermione confided, a small smile forming on her lips. James only just refrained from rolling his eyes- they'd all heard that story dozens of times, thank you very much.

"I'll tell you all about it later, Ron, but right now we've got more important things to focus on."

"Well blimey, what could be more important than-?" Ron started to wave his hands around and then froze, staring at them. At first James wondered if he was comparing how they'd changed over the years, but then his uncle held the left one away and practically under Mum's nose. "Ginny. Ginny. I'm wearing a ring. Is this-?"

"Yes Ron, it's your wedding ring." She pushed the offending limb out of her face.

"Hopscotch."

Uncle Ron waved his right hand impatiently at the Healer, clearly far more interested in the band he wore on the left one, and went on "I'm married? To who? Why isn't she here?"

"She is," Mum immediately assured, "But we wanted to see how stable your memories were first."

"Oh. Makes sense." his uncle twisted the wedding brand on his finger, a habit James recognised. "Is she hot?"

Aunt Hermione looked thunderous, taking in a deep breath in preparation for one of her infamous scoldings, but the air left her in a silent rush as Ron asked without waiting for an answer "-Is it a happy marriage?"

"Things were rough for a while," Mum admitted, and James blinked in surprise because he'd never known that his Aunt and Uncle had ever been anything other than blissfully devoted. He'd never known his uncle as anything other than a pillar of confident support for Uncle George, and this insecurity seemed juvenile. "But you've worked through it. You have kids."

The look on Ron's face turned to pure awe. "How many?"

"Hopscotch."

"Oh for the love of-" he raised his hand and glared at the Healer for a few moments, then insisted "How many kids do I have Ginny?"

"Two. Rose is fourteen, and Hugo is eleven."

"Hopscotch."

"If you say that word one more time-" he threatened, his expression swearing retribution.

"You got married in 2000, to start the millennium." Mum hurriedly interrupted his threat but slowed as she spoke, watching her brother's response. "It was a bit more publicized than you would've liked; I'm afraid we're all rather famous figures now."

"Me? Famous?"

"You and Harry lead the hunting of Voldemort's last men after the Battle of Hogwarts."

Uncle Ron had winced at the mere mention of The Dark Lord's name, something James had never seen before. "So… He's…"

"We won." Ginny agreed. The Healer checked on Ron's memories again, but his uncle seemed to be too distracted to do anything other than raise the hand obediently.

This had to be so overwhelming, James suddenly realized. He tried to imagine waking up tomorrow and seeing Lily ten years older, and being told that the world had moved on without him in all that time. He wouldn't even know where to start.

Uncle Ron cleared his throat. "So- famous. And what did the papers say? About the marriage, I mean. I think I'll need some time before I hear about..."

Mum's voice was gentle, understanding the unfinished statement. "They recorded you leaving the church, but it was more of an announcement. Along the lines of 'Granger-Weasley Wedding set for June' kind of thing. We have a cutting in the photo album."

"Granger?" Ron repeated, his jaw dropping in awe. "I married- I am married to- Hermione. Granger."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm married to Hermione," he declared, excited like a kid given free range of Honeydukes candy. "I mean, I know we kissed before the fight, but- blimey. Hermione Granger. We've been married for-?"

"Twenty years." Hermione whispered along with his Mum, who sounded a bit choked up herself. "And your kids.

"And kids." Ron sobered some, but his grin practically split his face. "Rose and- Hubert?"

James winced.

"Hugo." Mum said surprisingly calmly, as if she hadn't just been faced with hard evidence of decades of missing memories. "Rose and Hugo Granger-Weasley."

"Hugo Gra-" Ron snapped out of his dream-like echo and jumped to his feet. "I took her name?"

"Is that all you have to say?!" his aunt burst out, seemingly unable to contain herself anymore as she stepped into the room. Her hair floated out behind her like a war banner as she stormed forward, and James waited a moment before following her.

The healer in the corner meekly whispered the word 'hopscotch' but Ron didn't seem to even hear him. He stared, wide-eyed, at the woman who was still yelling at him.

"-Like I said, there are already a dozen Weasleys, Ronald, and we didn't need any more of those. There was George and Percy and Bill and Charlie's Weasley kids already, and my parents are so glad that we chose Granger, because unlike you I am an only child. Our kids aren't 'purebloods' anymore anyways so there was no need for them to be tied to that old Weasley ancestry. So my name meant a lot more to me than you yours, the least we could do was hyphenate it."

Uncle Ron still didn't say anything, just looking at her for a long moment. His gaze flickered between her eyes, down her figure and up again, then to Ginny and back. James realized that he was using Mum as a reference for how much time had passed.

Aunt Hermione, having said her peace, quieted and bit her lip as she waited for her husband's response.

Still silent, Ron walked a bit closer, and closer still. He grabbed Hermione's left hand with his own, looking at the engagement ring that shone there. "It's beautiful."

"I picked it out." she told him in a tone that was markedly different. Less aggressive but still rigid. "You made up some silly excuse that Ginny was changing hers and asked which one I would've liked from the catalogue."

"Blimey I'm brilliant." he said, grinning. James blinked as he realized that it was somehow different than he remembered. Something about it reminded him of Roxanne after a successful prank on her brother.

He squeezed her hand as he cleared his throat. "I- uh- I don't remember, but… sounds like I did pretty well for myself, didn't I? Married Hermione Granger and all."

"Ronald." Aunt Hermione groaned fondly, and dropped her head against his shoulder.

Uncle Ron froze for a moment, but at Mum's encouragement gently placed his hands on Hermione's back. The comforting touch quickly turned into a full hug when everyone distinctly heard a sob from behind Hermione's bushy hair.

He was wide-eyed as he mouthed to his sister "What is happening?"

"There was-"

"Is." the Healer corrected, sympathetic but still stern.

"-is a possibility that the presence or sight of certain things will retrigger your amnesia." Mum confessed, even though they'd said as much twice already. "Some memories or occurrences might… simply fail to be retained."

The Healer apparently thought a third iteration of this was important. "It is a worry that your condition might persist to the point that some things will need to be removed from your presence entirely. Probably for life, as we haven't developed a counter-spell yet. And not just things but- people," he nodded to Hermione. "Fortunately, it seems that it will not be necessary for your health to keep her from visiting you."

At the Healer's words the previous sob was joined by another, and soon they could all hear sniffles. Uncle Ron continued to panic silently, like Hugo holding a live dungbomb. James kinda wished he had a camera.

Seeing her brother's face Mum sighed. "Oh don't be immature, Ron. You can handle a crying woman."

"Hopscotch."

Ron glared and raised his right hand with a rude gesture that was decidedly not mature.

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ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rose Granger-Weasley huffed an errant curl of hair out of her eyes as she paced in the hallway, doing her stalwart best to ignore the piercing glares of the Ravenclaws who passed. She told herself that it was good they were witnesses to her current distress, because otherwise she might have chickened out. Which she certainly was. Distressed, that is, not a chicken.

The Gryffindor took a moment to run her fingers through her wilder-than normal hair, looking wistfully toward the bathroom just down the hall. She knew for a fact that it had a perfectly wonderful mirror she could use to try and control her distressed locks hair; her latest shipment of frizz controlling Geek Chic products had exploded in their packaging, much to the distress of both herself and her owl delivery. Though Rose will admit she'd taken vicious satisfaction in writing a letter demanding both free replacements and a future discount, it didn't change the fact that her hair- for the first time in years- had both the Weasley frizz and her mom's bushy volume. It looked as tangled and unattractive as a lion mane.

A mortifying situation which, even on its own, would have been more than enough reason for Rose to hide away from Hogwarts until the holiday break started. Add to it the grim detentions she was suffering, the crackling tension between her fellow Gryffindors and the Ravenclaw firestarters who just would not move on, and needing to double her studies for the finals that were now completely essay-content because McGongall hadn't seen fit to return anyone's wand yet and… well. It was a miracle she was out of bed at all.

So if anyone cared to ask, Rose could quite seriously say that she'd very honestly had very little opportunity to track down the errant, irritating transfer Zoethia Malam. And so far her failure to do so was, if she was continuing to be honest, more Zoey's fault than anyone else's. The transfer's schedule made very little sense, the girl herself seemed perpetually lost, and no-one had seen her set foot in the Great Hall for days. Rose's stomach growled in sympathy as she imagined how hungry Zoey must be by now. Or maybe she was just ready for her own breakfast… because reluctantly, this all had forced Rose to the conclusion there was one place in Hogwarts she absolutely knew that Zoey would be. Therefore instead of enjoying the endless supply of bacon and biscuits to start her day, Rose now stood across from the stairs up Ravenclaw Tower, miserably aware that every blue-trimmed student was staring daggers at her before heading to the Great Hall. Or, as showcased by the growing crowd, stopping at the next hallways and turning to watch what she was going to do.

She made eye contact with that group of spectating students, then tossed her hair over her shoulder- mentally wincing at how the motion was not nearly as fluid as she'd become accustomed to- and looked away again. If anything Rose was glad that they were watching; it meant that they could see her walk right up to Zoey, apologize, and tell everyone else that the two girls had hugged out their differences.

Rose nodded once. It was very good that they were here.

The flood of people coming out of Ravenclaw Tower had slowed to a trickle, which only confirmed to Rose that the transfer was certainly not a morning person. The sound of solitary footsteps on stone was now audible, an echoing announcement that someone was coming and building Rose's anticipation to see if Zoey had finally arrived. When it wasn't she scowled, paced a few steps and fiddled with her hair, tapped her foot, then resumed her stance dead in the center of the hallway, glaring at the winding staircase and wishing that she could just march up it and drag Zoey down-

The Gryffindor took a deep breath. No, no going up those steps and into Ravenclaw Dorm was what she was apologising for in the first place. And there was another set of feet coming down. Breathe deep, straighten clothes, fingercomb unruly hair- again- and scowl with irritation when, once more, it wasn't Zoey.

Rose resumed tapping her foot, checking the time. Figures that Zoey would be late even at getting up.

Another set of footsteps. Had to be her. Rose shoved away her irritation and instead focused on what she was going to say. After all, they hadn't spoken since… a few weeks, at least.

She frowned at the realization. Wow, that was… kinda a long time not to talk to someone, wasn't it? Rose hadn't even noticed with everything else that was going on. Did she need to say hello first? Or would small talk make things more awkward instead of better? Maybe- Lily had insisted that Rose needed to apologize to Zoey again, that her teary breakdown before in the Great Hall hadn't really counted as sincere for some reason, but if Zoey hadn't been okay with where they'd left things surely she would have let Rose know by now? Wouldn't this whole 'apologizing again' thing just remind Zoey that there was something to be mad about in the first place and make things worse?

Rose tugged at the strand of hair she'd been combing and twirled it around her finger instead, only just refraining from nervously chewing it in full view of her audience. Maybe this wasn't the best place to apologise after all.

This time when the arriving Ravenclaw proved not to be Zoey, Rose let out a breath of relief and admitted she wasn't ready for this conversation she'd geared herself up for. She had her dad's tendency to run headlong into things, when she knew full well she should thoughtfully plan her actions out like Mum instead. Looked like that had gotten the best of her again, she realised with a flush of embarrassment. And with the watching crowds, if she left there'd be more rumors.

Now every footfall she heard approaching felt more like a countdown, urging her panicking mind to try and think of something to open the conversation with Zoey. Should she say hi? Or just start in the middle of the apology? Should she ask if Zoey even wanted to talk about the subject again at all?

Rose was so lost in her hypothetical conversations with the girl and trying to convince herself that she was overthinking it, because there was no way their conversation could end in any way other than a smile and a nod and probably a friendly hug, that she almost missed the newest arrival in the hallway. If the poltergeist hadn't announced his arrival with his usual cackle and swooping flight, Rose might have been a sitting duck for his latest projectile.

Instead she managed to cast a shield to defend herself from Peeves's latest assault. The blue poltergeist puffed his cheeks in irritation and reached into thin air to grab more- flowers?

Red flower buds landed at her feet, a few of them wriggling to snap her shoelaces. Rose wrinkled her nose. Snapdragons. And freshly plucked too, if they were still biting like that. Peeves was really upping his game as the bane of Hogwarts lately- if felt like every time Rose turned a corner he had a brand-new prank or projectile coming out the sleeves of his horrendous orange coat.

The normally apathetic flowers were aggressively chomping their small fangs at every toe in range, easily biting through shoes in quest for vengeance at being uprooted. Peeves threw a fresh batch and grinned happily when most of them snapped students' hair and clothes, pinching like angry clothespins and only releasing when fingers or hands came into target range instead.

Nobody was staying in the hall anymore, all the Ravenclaws abandoning their curiosity in favor of reaching safer places. Rose made sure her shield spell was still in place before following suit.

It was, she realised, possibly the first time someone had ever been happy that the Poltergeist of Hogwarts had sent them running.

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oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Lysander Scamander was eager to go home. This was actually a true fact every year. As a Ravenclaw, one might think him focused on his tests and deciding which books to bring home over the break. Surprisingly, Lysander had always relished the chance to leave the crowds of Hogwarts. Being in his own bed, helping his mom with her Creature Reserve, not having to worry about any kind of social interaction that was more complicated than refilling food bins… yeah, that was the best part of his holidays. Even if his chores included mucking out stalls. He even packed early every year, living out of his trunk the last few days of school. It was horribly inefficient to pack and unpack a change of clothes every morning, but he did it anyways because of the few minutes it would ultimately save him for getting to the Hogwarts Express. Lysander snapped the clasps shut and reset his luggage at the base of his bed, wrapping a scarf around his neck as he descended to the Ravenclaw Common Room.

After a few steps he paused when he remembered to make sure his new Head Boy Badge was visible, and had to retie his scarf in a new position. The badge was important, seeming to wield its own power by its very presence. Ravenclaw House was still pretty divided. More so, Lysander was sure, than the rest of school realised.

The Ravenclaw DDC members had made club armbands or pins to wear in order to support their suspended clubmates, firmly standing behind the action of their Hufflepuff peer, Isabelle. Whereas others were still appalled by Emma's suspension and had taken to wearing an excessive amount of Ravenclaw paraphernalia, blue jerseys and scarves and even socks all branded with eagles and shiny bronze threads. It was headache inducing. Many a times Lysander had walked into rooms filled with ongoing glaring contests, but the latent power of his new badge prevented things from escalating.

Being Head Boy had never been part of Lysander's life plan. Being Prefect was enjoyable to him because he loved Ravenclaw House and subsequently their company, but he didn't have the social endurance to oversee the entirety of Hogwarts's problems. If Ravenclaw wasn't short on Prefects he would have turned down the quote 'promotion'. But with Emmaline suspended, probably to be expelled and definitely not regaining her position of authority even if she was allowed to return to school, Lysander didn't have much of a choice.

Christmas break would hopefully be a chance for everyone's ruffled feathers to calm down. The semester finals were even doing their part, most everyone still in Ravenclaw Tower this morning either asleep at various desks and couches or rushing out the door to read in the Library before breakfast.

Lysander Scamander watched as various Housemates roused themselves for the day, idly noting that some of them had forgotten little things like hygiene and hairbrushes. Zoey was one of the best put-together people to descend from the dormrooms. Her hair was almost red enough to rival a Weasley's, pulled back into a tight ponytail and her eyes bright and aware as though she'd been up for hours already. She paused as she met his gaze before wordlessly going to her usual chair in the corner, pulling out her own study guides.

Lysander let his gaze sweep around the room once more before he decided that neither Head Boy nor Ravenclaw Prefect was needed at the moment. He therefore abandoned his vantage point at the doorway to instead proceed to his own armchair and collapsed into his seat with a deep exhale.

He vaguely heard Zoey make a small noise of surprise at his presence, and had to concur that he'd missed being here. Lysander hadn't had a moment to just sit and read since his impromptu promotion, feeling like The Headmistress needed the Head Boy somewhere at all times. He was suffering a horrible withdrawal from reading materials and, he now realized, this specific armchair. After so many years of it being indisputably his spot the cushions and his spine were practically molded to each other. Perhaps there was actual merit in people taking 'mental health breaks'. He'd always thought such a concept to be ridiculous, but the temptation of staying here for the rest of the day was making a convincing counterargument.

After basking in the comfort he hadn't realized he'd been missing, he looked over to see what exactly Zoey was working on in the matching seat. He pursed his lips and tapped one of her notes that rested on the nightstand-sized table between their chairs. "His name was Uric the Oddball, not Oddbat."

She jumped at his interruption and looked at him from the corner of her eye before nodding and changing the word.

When she didn't speak up Lysander asked "Nervous for your first midterms?"

"They're not." the short girl protested, and immediately pressed her lips together.

The Scamander raised an eyebrow at her short response, wondering why she had stopped herself from continuing. "Aren't they?"

"Muggle schools have tests too you know," Zoey defended her previous education irritably, not looking up from her sheets this time. "And yes, they were hard and yes, I did learn useful things. I am probably the only girl in Hogwarts that knows that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, and why that's important for managing muscle soreness and aerobic versus anaerobic exercise."

Though he was very disturbed by muggles apparently teaching children standards about prison cells, Lysander was more intrigued by the words he didn't recognize at all. "What is ay-robic or anay-robic?" he asked slowly, trying to match her pronunciation.

"Whether or not your muscles need fresh oxygen to do the action you're working. Based on the latin word 'aero' for 'air', and the negative- which I know, because I learned basic Latin. From Muggles. And it has been very useful here because apparently a lot of spells use Latin chants, not that your professors have ever bothered to mention it!"

"Latin?" Lysander asked uncertainly. Zoey smacked a hand to her forehead, slowly pulling it down her face in exasperation.

"Oh my- yes, Latin. L-a-t-i-n, the dead language, the Romans used to speak it. Modern English, French, Italian- and I think Spanish?- are based off it, as well as a lot of science names." She huffed, blowing a bang out of her face. "And you say I have knowledge gaps, Sandy."

Her whole body suddenly tensed, and she nervously peeked at him from the corner of her eye for the first time.

While Lysander understood that what she'd just said was a very rare accusation upon his person, he was more flabbergasted. "Wait- hold on Zoey- you're saying that one language sprouted three more? Across all of Europe? How? And what do Roomans have to do with it?"

Her laughter at his continuing knowledge gap was not comforting. "See, this is why I have trouble with History of Magic. I've had muggle history stuffed in my head for all my life- and we worry more about Empires than some guy named Olfric the Oddball-"

"Uric the Oddball," Lysander interrupted her, because her test was today after all and she needed to get it right at least once.

Zoey hummed and waved a hand in a 'there you have it' kind of gesture across the table, letting that be her winning point to the conversation as she refocused on her study guide.

Lysander slowly sat back in his chair, staring blankly at the Ravenclaw Common Room as he silently felt his self-image as a worldly, well educated human being start crumbling around him. He could name almost three dozen witches and wizards that had reached fame in the last eight centuries, but somehow didn't even know the history of his own language. A set of facts which, apparently, millions of muggles already knew.

This simply wouldn't do.

He quickly turned back to Zoey, placing his palm on the table with enough speed to make a smacking thump. Lysander followed the sound with an equally punctuated proposal: "I will trade you."

Zoey jumped back in her seat at his sudden motion. She spent a moment blinking owlishly at him, clearly distracted by her adrenaline. "Trade…?"

"Lessons." He urged, hoping she'd see the logic in agreement. "I will teach you what I know about History of Magic, and you will teach me about History of Muggles."

"...Don't call it that."

He nodded absentmindedly as he started to think through the details. "We'll start next semester, meet once- twice a week-" she had fourteen years of education for him to catch up to, he might need a bit more time than just once a week- "And I'll tutor you in return."

She blinked at him for a few more seconds, slowly uncurling from the other side of her chair to lean in and frown at him a bit. "What happened to you avoiding me?"

Now it was his turn to feel confusion. "To what?"

"Avoiding me," Zoey asked again with more confidence, her frown still in place. "You were, and I quote, 'not going to talk to me' because I- I accidentally spelled Lorcan, which I'm still really sorry about by the way."

"Ah, yes." He nodded as he remembered what she was talking about. "We had the family meeting already, so it's fine. Is it a trade?"

Zoey didn't answer the question, holding up her hand. "You- 'had it already'? What does that change?"

He tapped his foot against the blue carpet as he realized she was too caught on this subject to answer him properly. Not for the first time Lysander pushed through mild annoyance at her distractible personality. "I already talked to the Legacies and Lorcan- he's never going to use my face for his shenanigans again- and made sure that the other's weren't blaming you for what Rose did."

She put a hand to her temple, seemingly shocked by his words. "You- you- Why would you do that?"

The Scamander twin frowned, hoping he hadn't overstepped some sort of social line he was unaware of. "What my brother and Rose did- breaking into our House- was horrific. And I know your magic isn't the best-controlled, I'm not surprised that it acted up when you were that upset."

"So… you were only wanting to avoid me until the meeting, where you… chastised them for breaking into my dorm."

"Correct. I didn't want them to think that you'd persuaded me in any way, so that's why I needed distance before meeting them." He waited a few more seconds, but when she didn't seem to have any more questions on the subject asked again. "So… trade?"

Zoey stared at him for a little while longer, then slowly started to smile, shaking her head incredulously. "You're an idiot, Sandy."

He frowned. "I am trying to rectify said knowledge gap, if you are unwilling to aid me-"

"-I thought you were avoiding me forever."

Lysander came to an abrupt halt at the warble in her voice, then immediately shook his head. "What- no! Why would you think…" her attitude throughout the conversation suddenly made a lot more sense with the new context, and he came to the conclusion that why she'd reached a faulty interpretation was less imperative than leading her to the correct one. "I got busy after, when McGonagall appointed me Head Boy and…" had a personal mission to monitor James, but she didn't need to know the precise details of his pseudo-family's problems. He felt his voice harden as he went on to "And all of us Prefects have been on double duty not just because of the fight, but they broke into our Tower. Basically our home, using my face- using me- as a way to steal from you."

"...really an idiot." She pinched the bridge of her nose, scrunching her face. "Sandy, there is absolutely no reason for you to feel guilty."

"I was reinstituting the status quo that they were shattering." Lysander huffed, a bit unsettled to be accused of acting on an emotion he himself didn't fully acknowledge. After all, it was logical to assume that if he'd found the strength to stand up to their many transgressions in previous events, this problem might not have happened. Ergo, he was at fault through inaction. "Besides, it was long overdue."

She seemed wise enough not to argue that part. Perhaps it was the even harsher tone he'd used, or maybe Zoey just had an uncanny sense for such things. She took a deep breath. "So to summarize: you weren't avoiding me."

"No." He said firmly, then added "I don't know how this got so twisted, but it was never my intent to stop being friends."

Zoey inhaled deeply and looked up toward the starry dome-ceiling, resting her chin on her hand. Despite her lips twitching in a smile her eyes were a contradiction, moist from unshed tears. "For the record," She said, her next breath shaking again. "I'm an idiot too. Because I thought- well, you might not have been, but I was avoiding you. Sorry."

That did twist uncomfortably, but was perfectly understandable. "I'll trade you." Lysander proposed. "I'll forgive you if you forgive me."

"There is literally nothing for you to apologize for."

"That's why it's a fair trade." the older Ravenclaw easily countered.

"Then I guess it's a deal. Unnecessary apology accepted, and- thanks." A drop of moisture did escape when she finally looked straight at him, and she swiped it off her cheek without breaking eye contact. "You're- you're a really good friend."

Lysander just nodded, giving her a moment to deal with the emotions clearly influencing her. Then he frowned. "You haven't sat next to me in the Great Hall for a week. Did 'avoiding me' include skipping meals?"

She shook her head. "I've been eating in the kitchens. And that wasn't part of avoiding you so much as avoiding everybody. I'm not… comfortable, going in there right now."

"The longer you wait," he felt obliged to point out. "The worse that's going to get."

Zoey shifted in her chair, straightening out her papers. "Why are geniuses always right?" she grumbled like that was a frequent problem.

"Because it's what makes us geniuses." Lysander defined, and cleared his throat, using the proven Ravenclaw tactic of listing succinct facts. "To summarise- I am not avoiding you. You are not avoiding me. We are still friends. And we should go get breakfast in the Great Hall after you finish your first read-through of those notes."

The shorter girl chuckled, nodding as she ran her hands through her hair. Lysander blinked in shock when the crimson red changed colors under her palms, lightening to blond that shortly became more of a shimmery gold instead. He'd known her hair changed colors, but he'd never actually seen it in action before. It didn't quite look the same as Ted's metamorphmagi work, though he couldn't quite put a finger on what the difference was.

When he snapped out of his distraction Zoey was tapping six fingers on the edges of her parchment, grinning to herself. "We're friends," she said, and the tips of her hair completely changed to blue when she brushed her ponytail back over her shoulder.

Recognizing how important that was, Lysander nodded and reconfirmed "We're friends."

Then, because he was not willing to let a little social miscommunication derail proper self education, he added "And we're trading History lessons next semester."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

There was something of a sour atmosphere in the Great Hall this morning.

Finally, however, it was for a regular reason. Reasons that Lily Potter was entirely used to seeing in everyone. The people who weren't panicking over today's tests or agonizing over their grades from the semester were exhausted at the idea of dredging through yet another day before the Holiday started. Even the Professors seemed tired behind their watchful gazes.

Lily herself was very ready to be home again. She wanted to see her Mum, and Dad, and spend Christmas being surrounded by the crazy loudness of the entire Weasley brood jammed together in one household. With no drama, no school politics, no bloody papers or articles for people to gossip and snicker or stare over.

Rita Skeeter's article about the school fight had stressed the casual tension in Hogwarts, because nobody had dared comment on it and risk being the spark to the fire, but Lily hoped that time away from school would calm down the worst of the student animosity before spring started. And anyway, she couldn't do anything about the situation other than hope. Unlike Rupert, she had no position of power or influence over Hogwarts. She could sway her family on a good day, when they felt like it and she had proper motivation, but today just wasn't one of those days.

Today, Lily Potter was one of the students caught in the preemptive sleepiness of knowing that she was going to have to drag through a whole day of essay questions and end it in Hufflepuff's dorm room instead of sleeping back home like she wanted to be. Really, really wanted. And to make up for that feeling she was trying to eat a nice breakfast with her family.

In actuality, it wasn't her who was having the most trouble with her breakfast.

She gave an amused smile across Hufflepuff Table. "I don't think that's how you're supposed to eat cereal, Hugo."

The tall redhead squinted blearily at Lily with puffy eyes before looking back down at his bowl. He took his time dissecting her words, understanding how their choreography arranged a meaning, and then not only deciding how they applied to him but how to respond. "I don' like milk," he finally slurred, moving the dry grains around. He tried lifting some to eat and frowned when they fell off his utensil.

Lily took pity on him and set aside her Care of Magical Creature's notes to gently pull the butterknife out of his fingers, replacing it with a spoon instead.

He blinked at his hand, not catching on to what that meant for a good long moment, then groaned and rubbed at his eyes. "Did I really?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How long?"

"About five minutes."

"Did anyone see?"

Lily glanced at the rest of Hufflepuff table, their Housemates obligingly making sure to hide their smiles. "Not really..." she hedged.

Hugo blushed even with his cousin's white lie, shoving his face with scoopfuls of food to make up for the time he'd wasted. "I was up late studying." he explained when he paused to grab some bacon too.

"Not that late I hope," Lily said as she pushed some wide-eye potion his way. Protein was good and all but she really didn't want to see Hugo cry because he'd used a stick instead of a quill during his tests today. "You know sleep is just as important."

He grunted and downed the magical shot, shaking his head as it cleared away the worst of his drowsiness. "I tried, but I kept having nightmares about answering the questions wrong. And then I had to stay at school over break for make-up tests, and I didn't get any Christmas presents this year because Mum was disappointed that I had a Troll in Herbology- and then I dreamt about sneaking into the library to read the books I needed- because dream-Rose took my copies home with her- but all the library books started chasing me around because I smudged their pages since I bloody forgot to wash my hands first and-"

His voice was getting higher pitched as he spoke, clearly losing the battle against his own nerves. Lily interrupted him with a light tap on the table by his plate, and he smiled sheepishly at her, taking another bite before finishing "-so, even in what sleep I did get, it wasn't really restful."

"It's your first year, Hue, you don't have to be so worried over it."

His expression soured. "Yeah, but that's just it. Mum and Rose are both such geniuses that they're expecting me to top their scores. Or at least match 'em."

"Do the professors?" Lily asked, and at his look of surprise went on "Do they treat you like you should know more than they've taught? Or put you down for not reading ahead like your sister does?" If they had they would have a very angry badger to deal with.

Luckily for the Professors in question, Hugo shook his head and relaxed a bit. "Nah, not really."

"Then just focus on the actual tests and not what might or might not come after."

"Yeah. Just the testing. As a first year, taking my first mid-terms ever. Which counts for like, a third of my grade. My first proper grade ever at Hogwarts." Hugo frowned at his plate, then stood up. "I'm gonna go study a bit more."

Lily hummed, knowing that at least working on the problem would make him feel more productive and keep his panic from flourishing. Much. "Finish your bacon first."

"Yes mum." he teased with a smile, shoving three slices into his mouth and nibbling on the fourth, letting it hang from the side of his lips as his grabbed his books up in both hands, leaving to find a quieter place to review.

"Next lesson's gonna involve table manners," she shot at his back, wrinkling her nose. She shook her head at the candles on the ceiling, then looked back down at the other person she needed to worry over. "And how late were you up last night?"

Albus Severus Potter groaned from where his head was resting on the yellow-and-black tablecloth. Unlike Hugo, Albus hadn't even managed to grab a plate before his exhaustion rendered him unable to function. "Don't worry; my first test isn't till after lunch. I'm gonna sleep through study this morning and then I'll be fine"

She frowned. "What are you even doing awake then?"

"Well- well, it's Hugo's first time taking finals. And I know they always make you nervous. So I wanted to help you two. Or something…" He rolled his head on the table to look at the spot Hugo had just vacated, then sighed, jutting his lower lip out. "...least that was the plan."

"Al…" Lily's heart melted a bit at his admission, touched. Her brother wasn't a morning person even on a good day, and this clearly wasn't a good day for him either. Yet he'd managed to drag himself here anyways. "Thanks."

He hummed, sitting up and rubbing his face in an attempt to wake properly. "Is there a- I dunno, anything you wanna ask me? Tips or study guides or review things that I used last year?"

"Study guides?" Lily raised an eyebrow. "Those might have been helpful a few days ago."

Albus's expression completely crumbled and he banged his forehead back on the table with a thunk. "Imanidiot," he said in a single exhale. "Should've left the smart stuffs to Rose."

The chuckle that'd bubbled up at his first words abruptly died at the second, and Lily turned to him with a frown. That sounded like the least-bitter way he'd said Rose's name in a week. And she couldn't tell if it was because his anger with her was less raw, or if he was just too tired at the moment to growl out the syllable.

Lily tried testing the waters. "Actually I haven't seen her today- have you?"

"No." Albus said firmly, proving he was indeed angry still as he sat up and looked around for the sole purpose of making sure she wasn't coming over. "She probably won't be doing anything but burying her nose in books until she gets home. Well, that and hiding from Peeves."

Lily tilted her head. "Has he really been that bad lately? I haven't seen him much either."

"Oh there's probably a reason for that," Albus smirked, green eyes glinting with secret amusement as he sat up.

She knew that look. That was his 'I'm-in-on-Rox-and-Lorcan's-secret-prank-plans' look. Why did he have that look? Lily turned toward him. "What do you- Zoey?"

Albus jerked. "How- how did-"

"Over there!" Lily pointed, beaming with pride as she saw their friend enter the Great Hall. Zoey had been exiling herself from anywhere students gathered, and she'd definitely been missed. A good chunk of Ravenclaws waved at her, giving her room to join them.

Actually, Lily frowned, some of the Ravenclaws were vacating that part of their table entirely and leaving space in their void, but there were enough smiles to make sure Zoey felt at least partly wanted. That was great. "It's good to see her around again."

Zoey was smiling a bit too wide, tucking a bang of her sparkling gold, blue-tipped hair behind her ear. She had obviously made an effort to hide the bags under her eyes, and was even wearing nail polish in an attempt to seem put together.

"Yeah," Albus agreed, looking between her and Ravenclaw Table. "Do, um, do you think she'd mind if we talked to her?"

"Why would she mind? I think she'd be happy." Especially since the Ravenclaws were still either giving Zoey a wide berth, or making their way through review cards. Lily smirked, bumping her shoulder into his. "I think she'd be happy to talk to you."

He blushed and coughed into his hand, looking at her pleadingly. "Don't- uh, I mean, aren't you going to come too?"

"I have a test this morning to study for," she gently reminded him. "Much as I'd like to, if I even said hello the conversation with Zoey would take up too much time."

"Right, yeah. She does find lots to talk over doesn't she?" He smiled softly, then got to his feet. He looked down at her and double checked "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Right then. I'll just… go over there."

"Yup."

"Right up to Ravenclaw Table."

"Exactly."

"Where everyone can see."

"I feel like we've had this conversation before," Lily teased as she looked up from her plate, and blinked when he returned with a smile of his own.

"Just making sure you were listening," Albus grinned before giving his little sister a half-hug. "You'll do great Lils. I'll have some hot chocolate ready for you in the Divination Tower if you want to talk about how it went."

She blinked in surprise a few times, then returned the hug gratefully. "I like that plan. That's a good plan."

"So's studying," he said and pushed her textbook toward her. He jumped when he realized it was fuzzy, and looked down to see a Monster Book of Monsters growling drowsily at him, slowly starting to wake from slumber. "Bye." he said quickly, practically fleeing the table.

"Bye," Lily smiled, waving at his back before opening the magical book. She made sure to stroke it's spine so it would settle back into sleeping. So she wasn't eating breakfast anymore, and her family wasn't with her, but still. Lily Potter found herself much more motivated to get through the day.

---

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Harry's home office was distinctly uncomfortable right now. Not only was he suspended from getting actual work done for the week- courtesy of overly-cautious Healers- but because they had given him homework. Him. A full grown adult had homework. And to complete it, the first thing Harry had to do was clean. And not the magic way, either, but the old-fashioned, grueling muggle way that always reminded him of early-morning chores for Aunt Petunia.

Pinching the bridge of his nose he was once again forced to bow before a simple fact in life: Hermione Granger had an annoying tendency of being right. It was a fact that Harry Potter had found himself incapable of avoiding. And as Harry looked over the mess that was his paperwork as Head Auror of the British Ministry of Magic, his office, as he remembered Hermione telling him so many times, should be symbolic of his tight-run establishment. Instead it was an utter mess.

He really should have a better filing system. Namely- Harry should have a bloody filing system, he bemoaned as he found a case file about a break-in mixed among Auror-application resumes. Normally he'd use Accio to summon the exact files he needed at a given moment, but considering that the entire point of rereading his entire Auror career was to make sure there weren't gaps in his memory regarding this subject… Harry had little choice but to organize the mess of papers in his office by hand. And it seems that he had not forgotten any kind of filing system, for this level of disorganization could only have accumulated over years of neglect.

Mumbling under his breath Harry pulled a file out the bottom of his drawer, only to groan as the old manila binding broke, leaving a mess of papers to spill all over his floor.

There was a giggle behind him and Harry sighed as he glanced back at his family portrait, seeing the young depiction of his wife still smiling. His younger portrait-self appeared distinctly put out, looking up at the ceiling as though not facing at the office mess would prevent his second-hand embarrassment at cleaning it up.

Harry's eyes inevitably flicked to the children, Lily laughing along with her mother simply because she was a baby and enjoyed the sound of happiness. Albus was grinning too, but he was being shushed by the other boy in the picture, the only one stubbornly trying to defend the living man they were all watching for entertainment. The child looked to him with a gap-toothed grin, crooked and innocent.

The sight made his stomach twist uncomfortably, so Harry bent down to pick up the papers as an excuse to escape it. The admiration, respect, and sheer familiarity the pseudo-child continued to show him was unnerving, since Harry still didn't remember the actual person the portrait was based on. And likely never would. Since it seemed contact with Apex caused a varying level of Affliction Z, and patients had yet to recover their memory or magic even after years of Mungo's treatments- well. Harry could only be glad that his mind- and magic, he supposed- were as intact as they were.

Harry got to his feet with a sigh, resetting his glasses into a better position before placing the mess of papers he'd retrieved onto an equally messy pile. The stack in question was chest-high and leaning in silent threat to topple like a fresh set of dominoes, but Harry found he really didn't have it in him to care.

Instead he left for the one room in the house where everything was always kept meticulously neat- and by his own hand. His kitchen was almost as large as their living room, but felt a bit smaller and cozier because every surface had a point and purpose. Every counter, cabinet, and shelf in the room was kept meticulously dusted and organized. Every practical size of pots and pans attached to a floating magnet strip overhead, but Harry was never quite as comfortable doing that with his knives, so instead he had a mahogany-wood block for the gourmet, thirty-seven piece knife set he worked with. There was a walk-in pantry, two magically-cold ice-boxes he used as fridge and freezer, a similarly heated oven, and a large gas-stovetop set in the kitchen island. A couple of bar-stools that always adjusted to just-below counter height finished off the room.

Ginny always said that if he could organize his work as well as he did a kitchen, he could have dismantled Avery's Organization years ago. The lingering memory made him smile as he started gathering ingredients for a quick meal, wanting a brief snack before returning to the absolute mess that was his office. For a moment, he considered using magic to send the toast and jam assembling itself while he closed his eyes, but discarded the idea. Not only was he fairly sure that the Elder Wand would have the simple spell producing enough sandwiches to feed a small school, but something about magically prepped food seemed less satisfying to him.

The sound of the front door opening and closing stilled his hands, and Harry closed his eyes as he listened to what sounded like two people entering his home. Their footsteps overlapped as they opened the coat closet by the door, but it wasn't until he heard some hushed conversations that Harry relaxed. They were too far away to actually hear what they were saying but he would recognise Ginny's voice anywhere. He hadn't expected them back from St. Mungo's Hospital for a while yet, and hoped this meant good news about Ron and Hermione. A stone of guilt settled in his stomach. Here he was, having an existential crisis over forgetting a single person, whereas his two best friends were facing a decades-long gap of memories.

"Are you two hungry?" He called before turning around. "I was just about to make-"

He cut off abruptly as he saw who stood in the doorway. Ginny at least looked a bit sheepish in response to her husband's surprise that the person beside her was most certainly not Hermione.

"Hey Dad." Said the teenage boy, a typical adolescent with a mess of black hair dull from neglect, who cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm, uh… home."

---

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was not prone to flights of fancy, but right now, he wanted little more than a heavy blanket, a hot cup of chocolate, and the freedom to drift off into a warm nap at a whim. However such a cosy setup was not becoming of a Malfoy in public, even if it were feasible, and so he silently chucked the image into his ever-growing list of 'things-to-do-when-finally-home-for-the-Holidays'. Instead, he chugged down another vial of wide-eye potion and hoped that it did its job quickly.

While mid-year finals were always deceptively grueling to some- because they, unlike himself, were not wise enough to start studying early- much of his recent study opportunities had been canceled. Almost completely on hold, actually. In fact, Scorpius Malfoy was solidly expecting these tests to be his worst grades ever, possibly enough even for Rose Weasley to finally beat him.

He blinked, waiting for a rise of anger or annoyance at even the passing thought, but it didn't happen. Merlin. He really was tired.

The courtyard clock chimed the half-hour, the sound magically echoing throughout all of Hogwarts without ever becoming deafening, and doors opened as students left their classrooms. Scorpius pushed off the wall as he caught sight of Melissa Goyle leaving the potions classroom, rubbing at her eyes as though she'd finished a nap instead of an hour-long test.

"I hate essays," She muttered as she paused by his side. "They're horrible."

"Consider yourself lucky." He mumbled, and started sorting through the papers in his bag. It was in there somewhere… "It's a lot easier to cram essay subjects in your head than improve spellwork."

"For you, maybe." She groused with another yawn.

He looked at the bags under her eyes, the unkept frizzing of her hair, before passing her a vial of potion of her own. She took a sip and made a face, sipping lightly as she reached into her own bag and handed him a folded scroll. "Thanks for the guides."

Scorpius hummed, then held out the papers he'd found. "You 'forgot' the next one." he said, holding out one of the half-dozen study guides he himself had put together for her.

The wilting of her expression was telling, and she sighed. "Do I have to? It's just charms…"

A surge of anger went up in him, and it took more than usual for him to tamper it down. Sometimes, the continual noncompliance his peers showed after asking for his aid and advice was downright grating.

"Yes." He said, though even he could admit it was more of a grunt as he shoved the guide he'd spent a literal hour creating into her hands. She fumbled to catch it without spilling her drink, and he didn't give her a chance to rally another rebuttal. "Answer it aloud as you walk."

Finally sorted, she shoved the first paper aside and opened the new one, sighing. "'Glacious' is the incantation for- The Freezing Charm," she answered then paused, clearly expecting praise, but he just raised an eyebrow before turning to lead the way from the dungeon classroom.

"And it is used for- freezing objects, and extinguishing magical fires." She sighed with less enthusiasm, following in his shadow. "The incantation for the Cheering Charm is…"

Her voice started to drone as they walked, dozens of other students doing the same such studying as they traveled the hallways. He debated pulling out his own study guides, but had to dismiss the option. He couldn't let himself get quite that distracted, otherwise he would miss if Melissa gave a wrong answer.

The past week had been built on decisions such as that. His own scholastic pursuits effectively halted as he found his other commitments become infinitely more demanding. Between Scorpius's official responsibility to tutor Malam and his sudden decision to try and pull Melissa's grades up with these final, impactful tests, he'd spent more time relearning the things he'd studied his previous years to teach them instead of the new subjects he himself was about to be tested on. Bitterly, he was even forced to concede that while Wainbata was actually learning things under his care his only option with Melissa was to cram fact after fact into her previously empty noggin and hope she remembered it long enough to regurgitate onto the test parchment. And while he trusted the Ravenclaw to learn on her own devices after he'd handed her the review guides he'd been working on all fall, he couldn't take a single eye off Melissa without her 'accidentally' leaving her least favorite subjects undone and lying around. In a trash bin. Or suspiciously close to Slytherin Dorm's fireplace.

He took another swig of wide-eye potion. He'd basically been entirely unable to review with Zoey Malam beyond the minimum requirement of time that the Headmistress had assigned him in the first place. Otherwise, Scorpius had been otherwise committed elsewhere. If Headmistress McGonagall hadn't suspended the quidditch scrimmage his team had been practicing for, Scorpius doubted he would have gotten any sleep at all.

The edge of his senses tingled and he frowned. "Wait- say that bit again?"

Melissa startled at his sudden interaction, then cleared her throat. "Uh… 'Lumos Maxima is the version of the wand lighting charm that allows you to throw the light from your wandtip and into a room'?"

"Before that."

"...'The wand motion for the Lumos Duo spell is a circle inside a square'?"

"Wrong," he sighed, stopping as they made it to Professor Padma's classroom. "That's the Freezing spell again."

She scoffed and handed the study guide over to him. "Well. I'm not going to cast it today, am I? No wands, no magic, more essays."

His hand cramped at the reminder. He'd written as much in the past week as he had all semester. Yet another reason Scorpius could not wait for spring when he got his wand back. However, a Malfoy did not get too far ahead of oneself.

"You have a quill." Scorpius reminded her in an even tone. "She might make you draw it."

Melissa Goyle paled some, but before she could do much else Professor Padma asked for the door to be closed. She sighed with the manner of someone invited to their own beheading, mumbling "I can't wait to be home…" as she walked in the classroom.

Scorpius thoroughly seconded the notion as he turned to go do his own class and then stopped, realizing. This was his last test. Soon, he would be going home to Malfoy Mansion. A house that no longer echoed with the continual bubbling of his Father's latest potion experiment. A house that was no longer magical, and according to his last letter from home, still crawling with Ministry Cursebreakers who dropped by with little notice. And a Christmas meal that would still be made by his Mom, but without any help from Skipsy. Because Skipsy, their family's House Elf, was dead.

He pinched put a hand to his temple, took a breath, then reached out to yank the frame of portrait beside him. The portly man inside it complained for a brief moment as he braced himself, but the Slytherin student ignored him as he continued to turn the entire frame around and around so it unscrewed from the wall. A Malfoy did not get distracted when there were important things to be done. Besides, if he was too tired and busy to feel worried about his grades or disappointed in Melissa or guilty that he wasn't helping Wainbata as much as he wanted, then he was certainly much too tired to deal with any of this.

The portrait he was opening finally stopped spinning and instead jerked to the side like a door, revealing a chute behind it. Scorpius sighed as he looked at the magical shortcut Peeves had shown him last year, briefly wondering if he was going to somehow end up using this dreaded tunnel the next time he was taking finals as well. He would really prefer he had time to just walk down to the greenhouses- or even fly out a window to get there- but he had neither the luxury of time nor the option to keep his broom with him during classes.

Scorpius pulled out the supplies he'd need for his herbology final. In addition to dragonhide gloves, he'd also brought the ear muffs used for repotting Mandrakes. If this trip was half as noisy as he remembered it being the first time, he'd need them. Putting them on also muffled the varied curses the portrait was yelling at him, Scorpius noted with a wry smirk, then jumped in feet-first.

---

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

After a few moments of pure shock, Harry put the sandwich supplies he'd been holding back down on the counter. Though a large part of him wished he could put this off for another few minutes, or maybe another few days, he was ultimately an Auror that had to face up to the reality presented to him. Wishing was a pointless luxury that made one slow to the situation in front of them. As he was being, Harry realized, as Ginny and the child clearly waited for his response.

Considering the rather rude ambush he was a victim of in his own home, Harry took another few moments to meet Ginny's gaze with a small frown. Her warm chocolate-brown eyes were still muddied with her note of guilt, though they mostly shone with hope as they flickered from him to the boy and back, her whole body practically vibrating with expectation.

Taking a deep breath that was more of a sigh, Harry realized that she really hadn't listened properly to the Healers who'd assessed him. They had said there was a slight- very slight- chance that Harry's memory loss, undeniably negligible compared to the other casualties, might have different symptoms. It was even possible, as a particularly irresponsible Healer had told his distraught wife, that Harry's memories might be possible to trigger, as was normal for most suffering from amnesia.

In hindsight, Harry supposed he could have guessed Ginny doing this was possible. The small chance of saving a child of hers from learning that their Father had completely forgotten them, even for a moment, was something certainly like her. She wouldn't have hesitated to do this for Albus or Lily. The knowledge that she'd done so for this stranger was… it just felt wrong, for her to care so intimately about someone Harry couldn't even recognise.

"Hello." He finally managed to answer the greeting that had seemed to happen ages ago, but kept his focus more on Ginny. "I take it Hermione is still at Mungo's?"

"Yes, she'll be staying the night with Ron." She smiled, though the expression was starting to waver as Harry failed to display some sort of epiphany. For a moment he considered play-acting as though he had. Breaking into a large smile and hugging the teenager and pretending that his mind was miraculously mended. Treating the boy with the same affection and devotion he gave his own children… the ones he remembered.

He barely considered the option before dismissing it completely. For one, it felt entirely wrong, and demeaning to the love he felt for Albus and Lily to even pretend it was so easy to mimic. For another, it wasn't fair to either of them. Harry shouldn't have to keep up an act in his own home. And the boy deserved to know that something fundamental had changed in his life.

Taking another look at the child- uh, teenager, who he'd forgotten, Harry had to frown again a bit. He'd spent hours looking at his family's portrait, trying to muster up some sort of feeling for the gap-toothed, freckle-faced redhead that James Potter had apparently once been. He'd barely managed to realize was that the boy's smile resembled Ginny's when she'd been eleven, and it seemed that the effort had been a waste of time anyways. James had grown out of the red hair and the freckles and the childhood innocence, and had very little of Ginny left in his face.

"Um, Dad," the boy squirmed some under Harry's intense gaze. "Don't believe the Skeeter article. It was- I mean, you know how she… twists things."

"Intimately." Harry snorted, not needing the reminder of how the woman made her career by slandering his. "But for once, Rita Skeeter didn't need to create facts to make a situation bad. Everything I know-" he glanced back to Ginny "-is based on a letter McGonagall sent. I'm not surprised that you've been suspended. "

The misplaced hope in Ginny's eyes finally left, leaving a deep kind of sadness that broke his heart to see. "I- well, I need to get Hermione an overnight kit. I'll… drop by in a moment."

"Mum-!" James hissed under his breath, clearly uncomfortable in the face of his impending punishment. When she didn't stop at his behest he shifted his weight on his feet and looked solidly to the floor, seemingly losing courage to meet Harry's gaze.

This meek child did not seem akin to the one who'd caused a magical brawl in Hogwarts's Great Hall. Harry was abruptly reminded of Dudley, of the boys rampant bullying turned innocent flower on a whim.

Thinking of his cousin also reminded him of the other letter regarding James that he'd found and read, and couldn't help a small smirk of satisfaction.

"James." He said, and the name felt even stranger to say than to hear or think. James was his father. "Let her go. Hermione will need her support, and we need to talk." His voice got a bit softer as he spoke, putting the sandwich supplies away and turned on the oven instead. He heard James come closer while his back was turned and had to fight down an instinctive tension in his muscles; he was jumpy from his fight with Apex.

"I'm… sorry. About what I did." James said softly, gabbing the pepper grinder from its spot on the rack and holding it out, even grabbing the other staple spices for the meal. "I just- Rox went down and I was scared and… I didn't think."

A bit unnerved at the display of familiarity with his kitchen, Harry took the spices as he gathered the rest of the ingredients for dinner. The contact was a good excuse to look at the boy as he asked "What did your mother have to say?"

"Well.. she didn't really." His face scrunched, as though only just realizing that as strange. "We went to visit Uncle Ron on our way, that's all."

Harry considered starting with clueing the child in to what had happened to his memories, but knew that conversation would take a while. First he needed to deal with the topic at hand. "That was foolish." he answered the earlier comment, repeating something he often said to his Auror trainees. "The worst thing any wizard can do is be thoughtless with his power."

The boy winced, retreating half a step.

Pulling some meat out of the fridge, Harry prepped the pan it would go into, turning the gas-stove on as he worked on coating the rib of beef with sauce while he said "Through your actions, not only did you put Roxanne in more danger, but you caused a dozen other children to be hurt just as badly. If not worse."

"I- it wasn't just me!" James snapped, looking up. "Those Slytherin snakes have always been looking for a reason to hurt us, they practically leapt at the excuse."

"If that were true," Harry met his gaze coldly, lips set in a grim line. "That makes it worse that you gave them one."

There was a pause in which the only noise was the gas burning and then a satisfying sizzling as Harry put the meat in the pan, searing it on all sides. The sound and rising aroma was calming to him. Though he'd hated being forced to do chores for Aunt Petunia growing up, Harry had grown to like having skill in the kitchen. Ginny had certainly been impressed back when they'd been dating, having never seen how 'muggles' cooked their food. And she'd been originally grumpy that it came out better than her magically prepared meals, though not by much. While he didn't always have time to cook because of his work, Harry still made time for special occasions. Holidays when he wanted to show his love for his family. And… comfort meals, for when Ginny was upset.

Harry knew there was nothing he could do about the situation he was now living in. He could not mourn a relationship he'd forgotten, but he did lament its effect on Ginny. Roast beef was far from a cure, but it was the closest thing to something that he could do.

"I… I'm sorry I disappointed you, Dad."

The boy's voice was filled with such dejection that he paused to look up, and was surprised to see James's eyes watering. "I did… I never meant to do that."

Harry sighed and pulled the finished meat off the burner, taking a better look at the stranger before him. James, upon closer inspection, clearly dyed his hair. As an Auror Harry was well-trained to distinguish all kinds of disguises, so a second look showed the boy was also wearing cover-up to hide the freckles of his youth. It seemed the teenager was eager to set himself apart from the red-headed flock of his siblings and cousins, though Harry wasn't sure why.

"You should be ashamed about what you did," he said slowly, trying to be a bit more mindful of his tone. He was falling back on his experience with chastising subordinates for this conversation, and had no idea if that was similar at all to their previous relationship dynamic. "But that doesn't change the other things you've done. You're- a good kid." At least, according to the many stories Ginny had been babbling at him. James sounded almost as protective of his younger siblings as Harry himself was.

"Ahem."

Both of them jumped at the interruption, looking toward the doorway to find Ginny standing there with a bag slung over her shoulder. "I'm heading back to Mungo's now. Is everything… all right in here?"

"So far." Harry mumbled, her presence reminding him of the other and infinitely awkward conversation they still needed to have. "I, um, I'm making roast beef for tonight."

Her lips twitched in acknowledgement of his effort, and she nodded. "I'll be back by the time it's cooled."

When she left James looked to Harry with a raised eyebrow. "What did you do wrong?"

"Excuse me?"

"Roast beef?" The teenager over-enunciated, holding out his hands as though presenting the various ingredients Harry had been cooking with all along. "Come on, Dad, that is your ultimate apology dish for Mum. So what'd you do this time? Forget an anniversary?"

"No." He said stubbornly, even as he panicked internally and checked his mental calendar to be sure that wasn't also true. Thankfully it wasn't- he hoped- unless that was yet another potential memory gap he had because of Apex. He'd have to check with Ginny later. Shaking his head, he said again "No, I didn't do anything wrong." If anything, Ginny had, but he wasn't about to say that aloud.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't turn this around on me," Harry snapped, embarrassed to be teased about his marriage by a teenager. "Even if I had something to apologize for- which I don't- the topic at hand is still you."

James looked… really confused by something. He started meeting his father's gaze squarely and holding it, as opposed to the furtive glances Harry had been receiving before. "Something's really wrong then, isn't it?" He spoke in a softer, more thoughtful voice than he had yet, and Harry found it actually made him easier to listen to. "I mean… this is your big, pull-out-all-the-stops apology meal, so if you didn't do something really wrong then. Something else is really wrong."

Harry just blinked, unbalanced to have his actions read so easily.

Leaning his elbows on the opposite side of the kitchen island, James asked "Does it have something to do with what happened on that mission? Where Uncle Ron got hurt? I mean, it had to have been a big deal if you pulled him out of retirement and straight into the field."

Well. No more putting it off, looked like. Harry grimaced, only realising that he'd been looking for logical reasons not to start this conversation now that he was fresh out of excuses. Still, he took one last moment to move the beef into the now-warm oven he'd turned on early so it could slow roast before speaking again. "We've been investigating something for a while now-"

"-the dementor appearances, right?" James interrupted without care, tilting his head. "Have you figured out why they're traveling in swarms yet?"

Refusing to confirm or deny classified Auror intel, Harry grit his teeth and went on "We ran into the lair of an unknown creature instead. We were caught completely off guard."

"Bloody hell." James swore, and Harry snorted as he heard an undertone that was undoubtedly Ron's influence in the boys words. "What was it? A Manticore? Or more like a dragon?"

"Not like." Apex's hypnotic voice seemed to whisper through his ear, and Harry suppressed his shiver as he said again "Not like anything I've even heard of. It- it affected Ron's memories just by touching him."

"Bloody hell," he swore again, clearly having no idea what else he could say. The teen then smiled ruefully. "That's probably what he would say about it."

Giving a wry smile of his own at the poor humor, Harry took a steadying breath, feeling incredibly vulnerable as he said "It did the same to me too, and didn't even need to touch me to do it."

James jolted so strongly that his elbow dropped off the counter and he had to catch himself before hitting his face. "Oh my- Merlin's beard, Dad, how much did you forget?" He looked his father up and down as though he could see the time lost.

Harry's heart broke a bit in sympathy, for the first time understanding just how much this person- whom he once thought of as a son- would be hurt by this. "I didn't forget a period of time. I forgot- a thing. A, well…" He had no idea how to say this, and cursed not just Ginny for leaving both this boy and himself with this impossible conversation, but himself too for denying the Healer that had offered to break the news for him.

"A person." James finished, his voice cracking but strong as he guessed "More specifically, me. How much about me did you forget?"

…

"Everything."

---

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Albus was having an unfortunate realization. He was having a series of them, in fact. Some of them, like Zoey's perceptiveness, were not truly unfortunate in and of themselves. Others, like Zoey's persistence, were proving they most certainly were.

But most prudently, Albus Severus Potter was certainly realizing that he should not have talked to the Ravenclaw transfer student before their tests today. Because while he'd managed to dodge the conversation when she'd originally brought it up that morning, he was now finding her around practically every corner. Having her pop up like a jumping bean every time he got out of a final was not good for his heart rate or his scholastic focus, he realised.

It was only through his fortunate remembering that he still had James's Marauder's Map in his pocket that he'd managed to steer clear of her. He'd hesitated over pulling the special item out at first, before realizing that everyone was jamming their noses in various parchments as they did last-second cramming for their finals. The Map didn't stand out at all- as long as he made sure no one was looking over his shoulder. By the end of the nerve-wracking day Albus was finishing his last test with at least twice as much relief as he normally did. After bundling up to leave the Greenhouses though, he could see even from the bottom of the hill that Zoey was waiting for him by the castle door. And Albus had his most unfortunate realization, in that her patience was infinitely stronger than his own, so if he wanted this to end, he had to- as he's been tested on in Muggle Studies- suck it up and face the tune.

So Albus didn't make any attempt to run as he walked up the snow-covered path with his Slytherin and Gryffindor classmates, who were as eager as he was to get inside and shower after their Herbology Final, a test on extracting bobotuber pus. Dragonhide gloves certainly saved them from getting boils on their hands, but for Albus at least, it didn't stop him from feeling kinda dirty.

Zoey half-barred his way, clearly expecting him to once again dodge the conversation. When he just stopped and sighed, holding his hands up in universal surrender, she instead smiled, tucking a bang of black-tipped hair behind her ear. The rest had changed from gold to bright blue sometime in the day.

"So." She grinned, practically bouncing in place. "About last night-"

"Uh-huh," Albus said, knowing what was coming. He peeked at the Map to make sure they were out of earshot from anyone around the corner.

"-when Peeves threw pinecones at you-"

"Yeah-huh," he agreed, and frowned when he saw a clump of Slytherin students coming from behind still. He pushed Zoey behind a tapestry, knowing that there wouldn't be any nosy people or portraits along this secret path. He noticed Scorpius Malfoy frown in their direction, but Zoey didn't- too focused on finally getting her answer.

"-and you defended yourself-"

Albus groaned, banging his head against the nearest available surface- the solid wall of Hogwarts himself- and left it there. Maybe if he pretended he didn't see her she would pretend she couldn't see him. "Peeves started it." He protested into the stone, because he was not going to apologize for that.

"-you used a wand."

She was inordinately gleeful over the four words that spelled his doom. Ironic, for a wizard, but still. Albus banged his head against the wall again.

"McGonagall confiscated those." She went on, still bouncing with excitement. "She confiscated all the student wands after the Brawl. All of them. Every one. And an elf checked student names off a list."

"She did," He agreed at the appropriate time, then sighing "They did. And before you ask-" He said and held a hand up behind his back to stop her, even though for once, Zoey was doing everything but ask the actual question. "No, I did not trick the paper. I did give the house-elf that asked me a wand."

She put her finger to her lips, eyebrows furrowed. "So… you have two wands? Had, two wands? I didn't know that was possible. Do a lot of people do that? Can you duel-wield like a video game? Does that affect accuracy? Are the spells from your left hand wand weaker? Or does it depend on your waving skill? Is it sorta like being ambidextrous?"

Aaaand there were the questions. Albus banged his head on the wall a third time, mumbling "...ake wand."

"What did you say? I didn't catch that."

"A fake wand." He said a bit louder, and lifted his head, looking at the Map once more to make sure that Malfoy and the other Slytherin's had moved on. The Gryffindor then turned all the way around, crossing his arms as he leaned in the hope he was least looked like he was holding it together. "I gave the house-elf my fake wand, Zoey."

Zoey finally stopped bouncing, looking thoroughly confused. "Those exist?"

"You've seen them. We looked at a bunch at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, remember?" On his failed, sorta-not-really first date. "Trick wands that make bad smells or silly bangs or-"

"-do nothing at all," she finished, her mouth dropping with a bit of awe.

He found himself smiling with pride at managing to thoroughly impress her, finding a bit of enthusiasm in himself for explaining his genius. "It might not have fooled a professor for long, but house-elves don't have much experience with wands. And it would be really hard for most people to find one that's identical to their own in the first place, but, well…" his smile spread into a full-on grin. "I've clearly got some connections. I even got rid of the logo it used to have."

"That- woah. Okay. Reorganizing in here," Zoey said, tapping her head as she spun around, not pacing in a circle so much as turning in place. "So you- huh. Okay. Wait. Wait. Hang on. You couldn't have known that McGonagall was going to ask for your wand that day. Which means- how long have you just been carrying a fake wand around? And why?"

"My dad-" Albus stopped, not wanting to pin his own actions on someone else. He started over. "I've heard a lot of stories about Wizards getting in trouble when they lose their wands. My dad himself has a lot of them. And, well, I never wanted it to happen to me, so… pretty much since I've been at Hogwarts?"

Old habit set in and he lost the confidence in his tone, but Zoey looked no less impressed. She looked at him a moment longer, then turned in place a bit more. He'd never seen the Ravenclaw girl so clearly thrown-off before. She always seemed to be the one startling everyone else with surprising hair or comments or poltergeist-friends. It was kinda fun to watch her on the receiving end for once. He blinked and realized he was only able to see this side of Zoey because, for once, Albus wasn't hiding his face because of his own nervousness.

Then she turned back to him with a far more serious expression, pointing at his chest. "All right. If I'm going to keep the fact that you broke the rules- which makes me complicit in breaking the Headmistress's rule- Miss McGonagall's personal rule- I want a Christmas present."

"Uh…" Albus leaned back, not liking the way she had asked her innocent request. "What kind of present?"

"A fake wand." She declared, once again gleeful as she moved the offending finger to change its meaning into a number, then pointed it back toward herself. "One like yours, but looks like mine instead."

It was then Albus had an entirely new realization. Sometimes good ideas were best kept to oneself.

---

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Everything.

The word seemed to echo between them with the finality of a thunderclap.

Everything.

That… James swallowed a bit, shaking his head. That couldn't be right. Yeah, sure, Dad had been acting really… stiff, since he'd gotten home. At first he'd thought it was because of his own suspension, but hearing that his Father- The Harry Potter, The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived- had forgotten about someone had made the answer rather obvious. Like Uncle Ron had forgotten part of his life with Aunt Hermione, he'd forgotten part of something about someone. And based on context, James was sinkingly certain it was something about himself.

He'd honestly been- selfishly been- a bit okay with that. A little darker part of him was relieved that maybe, maybe his dad would forget the monumental screw ups that had led to his suspension. But… everything? No.

"No," James Sirius Potter forced out a chuckle into the quiet kitchen, shaking his head more insistently. "No seriously, Dad, how much? Months? A year?" He remembered how long Uncle Ron had forgotten, and said shakily "...Five?"

Harry Potter wasn't able to entirely hide his flinch at the title, and James felt his stomach sink as the Auror sighed in the familiar way that only came with bad news. Like the timeAlbus had ruined his learner broom by putting it in the washer. "Look, son," he said, and James felt himself flinch, because that was not how his father talked to him. 'Son' was for the rookie Aurors, or a casual stranger, not- not- "let's, er, let's sit. We probably should have done that first."

Hurt and reeling, James only followed directions to sit on the stool by the counter. There was a squeak from the matching chair as his dad presumably did the same, but he wasn't looking up from the floor just yet. "Abs- absolutely everything?" He asked, because it just wasn't possible.

"We're not sure how," His Dad said softly, softer than he'd been since James had walked into the house. "But yes. I- look, I don't know how else to say this beside the truth. I thought I was fine after we escaped Apex. The creature. But when I got home and saw my office, spoke to Ginny… that was the only way I knew."

"And there's no cure yet." James repeated what the Healer had said when they were at St. Mungo's.

Running a hand down his face, Harry said just as bluntly "There probably won't be one. Mungo Healers have been researching this for years, and haven't made any progress."

Hearing the lack of distress in the man's voice hurt almost as much as having his hope mercilessly hobbled. "And this Apex," James tested the name, "What did it even want?"

"I shouldn't be telling you any of this. It's classified, but- it does involve you." The last bit was softer, but his Dad's Auror side was still showing as his tone relayed his reluctance. "That being said there's not… much. It was able to control dementors and had- has- a really strong aura that affected clear thought. Current theory is some kind of Legilimens."

Hearing the man switch to present tense James felt himself bark out a bit of laughter. "Wait- so you not only got hurt in the fight, but you didn't even stop it?"

"No." Harry's fist tightened so much James could hear the bones creaking. "We had eight people injured critically, three of which are still unconscious. And that seemed to be Apex's only goal. It seemed to-" he hesitated, sparkling green eyes looking into nothing through round frames. "Apex made references to being hungry, and was playing with us like a lazy cat. We're all lucky to be alive."

A chill traveled down his back. Never, ever had James heard anything close to fear from his father, and this was dangerously close.

Harry seemed to pull himself back to the present with a jolt, taking off his glasses and rubbing the lenses. "Don't repeat any of that to anyone."

"You know I- never do…" James's voice trailed off as he realized his dad didn't know that. His dad didn't know he could trust him. He got abruptly to his feet, pacing around the kitchen island in an endless circle.

Similarly silenced by the reminder, Harry put his glasses back on and just watched, seemingly waiting for the boy to work through this on his own. But the blank, calm look just worked him up further. His chest clenched, sharp and painful as it squeezed the edge of something breaking inside him, and that pain came out in the edge of his voice as he said "What took you so long to say something? I mean- I came in and you acted like there was nothing wrong. What, were you hoping I wouldn't notice?"

"No." Harry snapped, getting to his feet. "I had no intention of faking a relationship. And I-" he held up his right hand, where dull, old scars shone from his fifth year of Hogwarts. "Do not lie. You started the subject with your suspension, and I answered."

The quick flare of anger made James take a step back- the second time this had happened, he realized. He stared at the man in front of him. Blunt, quick to anger, thinking about how his words would be taken only after speaking- Dad had never been like this. But maybe… maybe Harry Potter always had. Without the memory of a relationship, there was no way that he should expect any kind of familiar words or actions from a man who didn't recognize him.

James swallowed around the tension in his throat.

There was a deep sigh, and Harry reached under his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I- look, like I said, I don't know how to do this. I have no idea how to deal with an entire person who just- didn't exist to me a few days ago."

Deal with. Once again, James was someone to 'deal with'. "You're my dad," he said, his voice warbling. "How- how could you let this happen?"

"Ginny asked the same thing." For the first time an expression of true remorse passed on his father's face. "I can't remember. But if I thought about you- loved," the forced word seemed painful for both of them. Harry to say it, James to hear how warped it was when he finally did say it- "loved you half as much as I do Lily and Albus, I fought it with all I had."

At those words the dull, encompassing ache in his chest exploded into daggers, tearing him from the inside as he heard the pure affection his father still held for the rest of his family. He took a deep breath, expecting it to come out in more biting words or maybe just a scream he was hurting so strongly, but ended up just releasing it in defeat. There was no point in ranting against something that couldn't change.

There was an abrupt, too stiff touch on his left shoulder, and James jolted as the force knocked him out of his thoughts. Harry gave him a few more equally-untested pats before leaving his hand there, standing almost at arms length. "This is a lot, I know. Why- er, why don't you get your trunks up to your room and take a minute? I'll finish dinner."

James knew it was meant as a mercy, a time to gather himself since it was fairly obvious he was about to break down. But it felt more like a dismissal or a banishment, and he wasn't sure he could take that. "Can I- just- watch you do the potatoes first?"

Harry blinked, clearly surprised by the request, but nodded. "Er, sure. That's… yeah, have a seat." he waved awkwardly toward the barstools they'd been sitting at earlier in the conversation.

James sat back down, staring at his feet as he waited for the typhoon of emotions he was processing to slow down. After a moment Harry went over the the radio and turned it on so there was something other than deafening silence between them.

He rolled up his sleeves, about to get to work peeling but then stopped and cleared his throat. "Is, er, is there any special way you like your potatoes?"

It was a fair question, because Lily liked hers mashed while Albus and Mum preferred peeled and roasted much the way Harry had done the beef. Still, it caused a fresh clench in his chest. "Just baked," He mumbled, "Same as you."

"...right. Baked it is."

James snuck a look up through his bangs when he heard the oven open, watching Harry Potter go about the rest of his domestic tasks. The Auror caught him looking but didn't comment, once again allowing him to sort through his own thoughts on his own.

James was struggling to accept that the man in front of him was not the father he'd grown up with. Not in any sense that mattered. He'd always felt, always said, always bragged about the most important fact of his family. His dad was famous. His dad was Harry Potter. The Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived. Conqueror of the Dark Lord. Head Auror of Britain. And he'd taken so much pleasure in it, in seeing people's eyes light with awe. James always preened under the shared glory, loving how much they loved his father, his personal hero. Looking back, James felt a bit disgusted as he realized his focus had slowly slipped towards the second-hand fame more than everything else.

Harry Potter was still all of those famous things. But the man was no longer his dad.

And for the first time in a while, James remembered he would give anything for it to be the reverse.

---

To anyone else who might be thinking about creating their own antagonist who has a power that causes memory problems: Don't. Just don't. If I hadn't mentioned it already and didn't NEED that to be one of Apex's powers for many plot points... ugh. memory wipes are not easy to write out.

On to fun topics- You may have seen I published a new story. 'Deadly Drabbles' is going to be a series of outtakes/scenes about characters that don't fit into the story of True Hallows. I'm making it for two reasons.

One: I have lots of passing characters I'd love to write a lot more on. I didn't expect to love my 'filler' peoples as much as I do or have complete backstories for them, but it's happened and I'd like to share for anyone who's interested. Rupert Tring is a prime example- he's the MC of the first chapter, giving his two bits on the fight after the suspensions.

Two: I really don't wanna go so long between posting stuff. Not only does it make me feel really bad about leaving you guys hanging, but it makes it harder for me to get my creativity flowing. (The writers block this time grew into a freaking Hoover Dam, I swear).

So, most importantly- send me requests! which characters do you want to read more of? Any events you want from a different POV? Lemme know, especially if you think it's been too long since I wrote anything!