LAST TIME: Harry tried out for the Quidditch team, and his parents (Orion and Tom) came along to support him. He ran into Druella, discovering that she'd been offered a position as an Assistant Qudditch Instructor, and learnt that Chloe Babbage was now the Captain of Slytherin, taking over from the legendary Christina Day. Chloe was a little disorganised, and Harry met Rachel Maddens (Chloe's solemn best friend), Peter Rowling (an enthusiastic fan), and Rachel Beastone/Bea (a vicious little doll). Harry proved himself on the pitch, and became Slytherin's new seeker. Meanwhile, Tom flirted his way into the restricted section and found a book on horcruxes, despite warnings from Cassius. The first 'DADA' lesson was on Unforgiveables, and Harry produced accurate descriptions of their effects (wonder why), earning the curiosity of Professor Merryweather. Merrythought revealed the death of her wife, and offered to give Harry tutoring to help him become an Unforgiveable. Harry discovered Tom's book on horcruxes and the revelation that cannibalism is the key, and talked Tom into looking for other methods. For now...

IF YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS, PLEASE JUMP TO THE END TO SEE TRIGGER WARNINGS. This is to avoid spoilers.

The first Quidditch meeting had Harry's stomach rolling in equal parts terror and excitement. He already knew most of the team (although he wouldn't say he 'knew' Rachel Maddens. Feared her, perhaps), but there were still two teammates left to meet. They were both male, too, and- call Harry biased- but he'd had a lot more luck with the females of Slytherin than the males. The girls tended to be less openly prejudiced- though Merlin only knew if that statement still stood for Walburga. He was trying not to think about it.

Despite the nerves, Harry made his way down to the Quidditch pitch bright and early on a Sunday with cautious optimism. Orion hadn't been allowed to accompany him (the phrase "not my mother" had been thrown out there), so Harry felt significantly more vulnerable than usual. It was like missing an arm. It was actually a little concerning that he'd become so co-dependent- after all, he couldn't bring Orion when he went back home.

"Harrison!" Chloe squealed. She looked more put-together than she had at try-outs, and her complexion was considerably less blotchy. Her hair was tucked away into a scarf, which Harry found amazing when he remembered quite how much hair Chloe had.

"Chloe!" Harry said cheerfully, hiding his nervousness with a smile. "Everyone here yet?"

"Oh yes, you're the last," Chloe said, not seeming to notice the stone of anxiety that dropped in Harry's stomach. "Come and meet everyone!"

Harry followed obediently. You could only really understand after meeting Chloe, but it was very difficult to argue with her. She had such a confused earnestness that it felt rather like kicking a puppy. She and Orion combined would be an unstoppable force.

In the middle of the pitch the rest of the team was waiting. (Peter gave Harry an enthusiastic wave.)

"Now that everyone's here, we can introduce ourselves properly!" Chloe declared. "Wait a moment, I wrote it down…" Chloe fished around in her bag, reaching her entire arm up to her elbow into the little leather clutch. She brought out a roll of parchment and scanned over it, letting out a little triumphant 'ah ha!' as she found what she wanted. "So how about we go around, and everyone says their name, position and an interesting fact about themselves?"

Everyone groaned simultaneously. At least they all shared a hatred of icebreaking activities.

"I'll go first! My name is Chloe Babbage. I'm a beater! And my puppy, Sky, just turned a year old." She turned to her right. "Rachel?"

Rachel inclined her head solemnly. "Rachel Maddens, chaser. And both of my feet are webbed."

Harry blinked in slight surprise. As he glanced around the circle, no one else seemed to have reacted.

"She's very good at swimming," Chloe agreed. "Matthew?"

Harry had to admit that he found 'Matthew' slightly intimidating: tall, wide-set, with a very Crabbe-esque bump to his nose. But then he smiled warmly, the sunlight warmed his hair to a honey-gold and the resemblance melted away. "Hello everyone. I'm Matthew Stein. I'm a beater, and I'm a fan of J.R. Juniper."

Rachel's dark frown suggested that she may have disagreed. "He's a disgrace to literature," she grumbled. "No imagination."

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "He's romantic-"

"It's not romantic, it's insipid. Chloe, you agree with me."

Chloe shrugged. "I've only read one so I can't judge. It was really long. And boring."

Bea decided to add her two knuts. "His books are a load of hippogriff crap."

"Exactly!" Rachel said triumphantly, brandishing a finger.

Chloe frowned. "I feel like you're both taking this very personally."

Bea sneered. "His books are just pathetic wish-fulfilment for people who want to pretend that they'll be loved one day."

"That's why they're good," Matthew protested.

"Maybe we should move onto Leo!" Chloe's smile was very pointed.

Attention turned to the quietest member of the group. He was built like a beanpole: a long neck and a thin face with sharp cheekbones. His hair was combed into a neat partition, and he studied the group like assessing for weakness.

"My name is Leo Piper," he said, choosing his words very carefully. "I'm a chaser. And I enjoy chocolate frogs more than anything else in the world."

Harry thought that Leo might have been one of the oddest people he had ever met.

Chloe nodded acceptingly. "And now for our new members! Peter."

Peter shrank under the weight of all eyes on him, but he gathered his courage. "Um, I'm Peter Rowling, I'm a chaser, apparently, and I, uh." Peter paused, his brow furrowing. He seemed to consider something. "…I moved from Japan when I was five."

Harry saw Matthew glance sharply at Peter, but apparently decided to keep his mouth shut.

"And I write for the school magazine!" Peter declared, and grinned proudly.

"I didn't know the school had a magazine," Chloe said thoughtfully, and unnoticed to her, Peter's smile dropped from his face. "Bea's turn!"

"I didn't agree to that bullshit," Bea growled. "My name's Rachel, Rachel Beastone. And I'm a keeper."

There was a long pause.

"And an interesting fact?" Chloe prompted.

"I have nothing to say to any of you."

"Fun!" Chloe said brightly, and turned her gaze onto Harry.

"Oh. Me now. Right. Merlin."

"I take it that's not your name," Rachel said flatly.

"Er, yeah," Harry chuckled. "I'm Harrison Peters, seeker." He tried for a casual head-nod and promptly regretted it. It ended up more like a twitch. "And an interesting fact…" Harry's mind cycled through several variations: 'I survived the killing curse', 'I used to sleep in a cupboard', and 'I'm from the future'. None of them sat exactly right. "And I really like Defence," he finally settled on. "The subject."

Their answers had all been pretty rubbish, but everyone seemed too glad to have it over with to care. Chloe made one last effort to rally the troops.

"Well, I'm glad to have such a strong team with me this year. We're going to do our very best," Chloe declared with determination.

"And we're going to win," Bea said, crossing her arms aggressively.

"Perhaps," Chloe agreed. Her gaze became distant, and she looked a little lost. "Though I do wish Christina were still here… Oh! What were…?"

Chloe turned around to consult Rachel, muttering something about dates.

Harry must have looked a bit worried, because Matthew Stein leaned in close and lowered his voice. "Chloe's a bit organisationally-challenged, bless her."

"And she's captain?" Harry said doubtfully.

"She's got the spirit, and she always gets there in the end. It's just that the things happening in her head don't always come out the right way. She explained it once. There's a lot going on in there that you can't see."

"Huh," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Well, anyway, this was just a meeting to get to know everyone briefly," Chloe said, turning back to the group. "Our first proper practise will be Wednesday-"

"-Thursday,"

"Yes: Thursday, thank you, Rachel. Thursday evening. There is, however, a party tonight!"

This news got the team excited.

"It's the annual Quidditch teams' soiree. This year it's down by the lake- 6 'til 11. It's going to be a total bash."

"But curfew's at 10," Peter pointed out, wide-eyed at the prospect of going to a party.

"Special dispensation!" Chloe practically sang, her hands flapping with excitement. "Don't bring more than one plus-one though, okay? We only have so much Firewhiskey. And remember- if the teachers ask, it's pumpkin juice. Meeting adjourned!"

A plus-one, huh? Harry knew exactly who he was going to ask.

"Sorry, I'm busy tonight."

"You're busy?" Harry repeated, not quite able to believe it. Orion was never busy.

"I'm tutoring a third year in Runes. Professor Babbling says she'll get me a placement with a Runes master if I can get them up to an EE."

"So what am I supposed to do then?" Harry said, definitely not pouting a little bit.

"Ask someone else. You have plenty of friends," Orion smiled widely, not seeming to recognise how ridiculous his statement was.

Harry slumped back in his chair and glanced around the Slytherin common room. The universe would end before he voluntarily spent time with Cassius, he'd actually murder Avery, and Rupert would insult everyone they… ah hah.

"Tom!" Harry called out, rising slightly and waving over at the Slytherin prefect, who was only just walking in through the portrait hole.

Tom glanced around in surprise, but wandered over towards the pair.

"Yes, Harrison?"

"Why do you keep calling him that?" Orion asked. "He's called Harry."

"Harrison is his full name," Tom said evenly. "Who am I to diminish that?"

"Does it matter?" Harry asked, with more than a hint of impatience. He shifted around in his chair so he was facing Tom and said with utmost seriousness: "Will you go with me to the Quidditch party tonight?"

"Go with you?" Tom asked, a suggestive little glint in his eye.

"Not as a date or anything," Harry said quickly. "Just as company. Friends."

"I assume Orion's busy then."

"Well, yes. But that's not why I invited you. I mean, I suppose it is- actually that's the entire reason- but even if- I-"

"Relax," Tom said, smirking. "I understand. I've come to terms with the idea that I'll never live up to Orion's magnificence."

They both glanced over towards the afore-mentioned boy. It was just unfortunate that, in the moment, Orion was shaking his wand and holding it up to his ear, muttering; all in all looking rather deranged.

Orion caught their glance and said defensively: "I'm seeing if the charms have an echo!"

Harry raised a (judgemental) eyebrow.

"It's for a theory!"

"What kind of theory?" Tom asked, but Harry severely doubted that he was in any way interested.

"If charm residue is ever stored in the wand core. And if it has a sound. Which is why I was… never mind," Orion mumbled, and placed his wand back onto his lap. "So are you going, then?" He directed his question towards Tom.

"It's just to help me know who people are," Harry added.

"Well then, I can't see any reason to object," Tom said dryly. "I could never say no to a good party."

"A party?!" And as if summoned, Rupert appeared, bearing a wide, eager grin. "Where?"

Harry exchanged a look with Tom. "It's just for the Quidditch players. Besides you'd hate it- Druella's going."

Harry had no idea if Druella was going (probably not- he didn't think many teachers went to those kind of things), but the suggestion seemed to do the job.

"Oh, that bitch," Rupert grumbled. "I can't believe I thought I was free this year. And Mariana was just coming 'round too. Hang on- why's Tom going if it's for Quidditch players? No offense, mate, but you broke your arm to get out of Quidditch first year."

"We get a plus one."

"And you're inviting Tom?" Rupert asked disbelievingly. "He hates parties. Only goes if there are at least three foreign diplomats and a member of the Wizengamot. Even Sluggy's shindigs barely make the cut."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't have anyone else to invite. Orion's busy."

"You could have asked Atticus," Rupert said, very sadly. "You two are so close." His expression of despair lasted for around ten seconds before he burst into hysterical laughter, practically sinking behind the sofa.

"I don't understand how some people got into Hogwarts. You'd think they'd have an entrance exam," Tom drawled with loud, pointed distaste.

"Sorry, Tommy-boy, do I not make the-" Rupert rose from behind the sofa and froze at something in Tom's eyes. The room seemed to drop ten degrees, and Harry saw Rupert visibly gulp.

"I could have sworn that I just said something about proper names," Tom said very pleasantly.

Rupert nodded, grinning awkwardly. "Right you are. I- I have to find Atty. See if he wants to crash the party."

And Rupert fled as quickly as he had arrived.

"So what time does it start?" Tom asked breezily, turning his attention back to Harry, all signs of any threat vanished.

Harry wasn't quite sure how to react. It wasn't completely awful to see Rupert a little shaken though, so he merely quirked a quick smile. "6, I think? Down by the lake."

"I'll see you tonight then. By the portrait."

And Tom swept from the common room.

"Well, I think that went well," Orion said brightly, bringing his wand up to his ear again.

Harry hummed and gazed down at the fireplace. He supposed he'd find out.

Tom, of course, looked bloody gorgeous. Harry had exclaimed with low disgust when he'd seen him, wondering how a simple jumper and tighter trousers could make him look even better- his cheekbones were sharper than a slicing charm, and his hair was just the right balance between messy and well-groomed. It was frankly distasteful.

"You look nice," Tom said pleasantly, looking Harry up and down with a faint smile.

Of course he'd say that, Harry thought very bitterly. Harry was a mess: wearing an odd amalgamation of Orion's overly-formal cast-offs and his grubby trainers. No to mention that he'd run his hands through his hair so often it had stopped obeying the rules of gravity, and his nose bore an impressive dent from wearing glasses that Harry had never bloody noticed before.

"Thanks," Harry said unconvincingly. "Shall we head down?"

Harry was tempted to offer his arm, but he thought that might be taking the piss a little. So he stuck his hands into his pockets and jerked his chin towards the portrait hole.

"Where are your manners?" Tom tutted, a wordless flick sending the portrait swinging open. A smirk. "I only venture down to the lake with gentlemen."

"You're not as funny as you think you are," Harry grumbled.

"I'm hilarious."

"You have lots of talents, Riddle. None of them are comedy."

"What are my talents?"

Harry had to glance away from Tom to hide his blush. No one should be able to say anything with so much relish.

"Being an arsehole," Harry muttered, and loosely shoved Tom towards the exit. He tried not to find amusement in the way Tom stumbled as his shins caught the edge. It was hard.

"And to think," Tom began, long-sufferingly, "I'm accompanying you to this evening of my own free will-"

"All right," Harry said rolling his eyes, a reluctant smile playing on his lips. "You can cut that out. Let's go."

The air was nippy, biting sharply at Harry's fingers as he buried them in his pockets, and he squinted in the yellow light, the sky already pink-tinged. The sun was low, the clouds weak and wispy, and Harry noticed deep midnight blue gradually appearing at the top of the horizon. It would be dark in the next few hours.

"Are you cold?" Tom asked.

Harry eyed the scarf around Tom's neck, but stubbornly declared that he wasn't. The chattering teeth might have made it less convincing.

Tom rolled his eyes and before Harry could protest, a warm woollen weight wound around his neck.

"I can sustain a warming charm," Tom said haughtily.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Because Merlin forbid you should be nice." But he gave Tom a small nod of gratitude and hugged the scarf tighter.

The party was already in full swing by the time they wandered down. The main event was actually a little way away from the lake, in a kind of field, and there was a line of trees partially obscuring the lakeside where Harry could see smaller groups of people gathering. The party-goers spread as far as the edge of the Forbidden forest. Fairy lights (Harry thought they might be actual fairies in little lanterns) were strung up and entangled in the tree branches, and Harry thought he saw little broomsticks, swooping and diving languorously over people's shoulders. He spotted a table laden with suspiciously-coloured drinks and decorated with sparklers which occasionally wafted into the air to spell out rude words. (Harry noticed Tom watching with a particularly unimpressed expression. Harry, personally, found it rather hilarious.)

It was at moments like these that Harry was struck by how old-fashioned it all was. At least in school uniform the only thing that really set a 1940's student apart was their hair: the boys' usually short and neat (unless you were Harry), and the girls' curled or tied back. But this evening, everyone was dressed up. The girls looked especially exotic: velvet, cotton and long skirts wherever you looked, strong lipstick and elaborate hairstyles. It felt rather like stepping into an old film.

"Harrison!" His name was mangled by a slurred shriek as Chloe appeared from the crowds, waving her arms in the sky and clutching a jug.

"Call me Harry," Harry yelled over the music (live, of course- there was a bloody band performing on a hovering platform over the lake). He laughed as Chloe grabbed his hand and attempted to twirl, whining when she spilled liquid on her dress. Harry nodded towards the jug. "What's in there, then?"

"Pinnock's Giggle Water," Chloe said gleefully. "Al's father brought some back from America and it's fantastic. Try some!"

"I'm good, thanks," Harry said, warding her off with a gentle hand. "I should keep a clear head."

"Pffft," Chloe exhaled fiercely. "Boring." Not one to be disappointed for long, Chloe immediately noticed someone over Harry's shoulder and shrieked "Al!" very close to his ear, waving. Before she left, she put her face very close to Harry's, said "you should find Artemis. She has your nose" and then she stumbled away.

"It's no wonder she can't keep control of a cauldron," Tom said archly. "She can barely control her own limbs."

They watched together as Chloe tripped over a chair and fell into a Hufflepuff boy's chest, her hands 'accidentally' landing on his upper biceps and turning him a very interesting shade of embarrassed puce.

"I think she can control herself just fine," Harry noted. "Do you know an Artemis?"

"I believe I do." Tom scanned the crowd, his lip curling slightly and Harry thought he might have spotted the rather unsubtle couples in the shadow of the trees. At last, Tom pointed towards the lakeshore, where the crowds thinned out and people were standing and sitting in groups of two or three. "There. With the ginger boy."

Harry shrugged helpless.

"Dark blonde hair with the appalling acne and that hideous curtain-dress."

"Tom!" Harry hit Tom's arm as he scanned the crowds, and finally spotted her. She wasn't as ugly as Tom had suggestion: in fact, she was really quite pretty; the type of girl that Ron might have mentioned to Mrs Weasley in order to distract her from fussing over his clothes. "The one sitting down?"

"Mmm," Tom agreed. "Any particular reason?"

"Chloe said I should talk to her."

"And you always do what Miss Babbage says."

"Well, she's my coach now," Harry grinned.

"I have no idea who decided she was fit for that."

"Don't be cruel."

"I can't help it," Tom said innocently.

Harry scowled. Tom didn't seem overly affected, and told him that whilst Harry was chatting to 'it' ("she's a human being, Tom!") Tom would be putting the fear of Merlin into some midnight lovers.

"They're not hurting anyone."

"They're an affront to my eyes," Tom said loftily, and swept off towards the trees.

Which left Harry to go and talk to Artemis.

Alone.

Fun.

Harry approached the pair casually, but as he got closer he noticed that they definitely weren't having a cheerful conversation. Artemis had her arms wrapped around her knees as she shook quietly, her face drawn and pale with silent tears running down her face. The ginger boy was consoling her, and Harry thought he might have been trying a joke to lighten the situation. It didn't appear to be working.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, crouching down in front of the pair.

The boy glanced up and, for reasons unknown, his eyes went very wide upon contact with Harry. "Sh-she's fine," he stuttered, shuffling slightly in front of Artemis.

"Really?"

"We're all fine here. Ha ha. Music. Dancing. Fun. It really is a lovely night- have you seen the moon? I feel like it's coming out a little early tonight- not that I usually track moon positions, that would be rather pathetic, huh? Unless I took Astrology, which is a perfectly valid NEWT option no matter what anyone says-"

Artemis let out a little distressed whimper, and Harry had to stop himself from reaching out to stop her rocking. "She doesn't look fine."

The boy looked panicked, his eyes darting back and forth. "Well, she is."

Harry shrugged, a little sliver of Slytherin deviousness emerging. "If you say so."

As he turned to leave, the boy yelled, "No, you don't need to go!"

Harry turned back.

"I mean, er, stay!" the boy said sheepishly. "This is where the party's at." He gave a little shimmy and Artemis gave a shuddering little gasp.

"Are you sure she's alright?" Harry asked. "She looks like she's having a fit."

The boy's shoulders slumped, and he gestured helplessly towards her. "She doesn't like parties. It's all the people. I never know what to do."

"Make them go away," Artemis muttered, closing her eyes.

"Have you tried a quietening charm?" Harry suggested. Ginny said that she'd tried that in her second year, when the noise around her grew too much and she heard Tom's whispers over her shoulder.

"A quietening charm," the boy repeated with awe, as if the pieces of a puzzle had just fallen into place and the world was right again. He got out his wand and pointed it towards Artemis. "Quietus."

Artemis took a deep breath and her eyes shot open. She lifted a hand to her head and stopped shaking. Harry watched with curiosity.

"Oh," Artemis said, quietly. "That's better."

"Oh. Good," the boy said heavily, his body collapsing with relief. "Good."

Artemis' eyes shot to meet Harry's and she seemed to shrink inwards, noticing him for the first time. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm er-"

"Are you crazy?" the boy exploded, looking immediately consolatory as she flinched. "Sorry," he muttered. "But that's Harrison Peters!"

"Yeah," Harry said reluctantly. "I'm-"

"-the Saviour of Hogwarts!" the boy exploded. "I- I…" He paused, something flashing across his face. He murmured almost like a guilty admission. "I'm Septimus. Weasley."

The name rang familiar to Harry, and he frowned, trying to remember where he'd heard it; beyond the familiar surname. "Ah." His face cleared.

Now that Harry looked for it, he did notice a slight grey tinge to Septimus' complexion. Hermione had experienced the same thing after she was petrified: a stone-like complexion that had lingered throughout third year. Hermione had put it down to stress and lack of sleep, but sometimes Harry had caught her staring at her hand: just curling her fingers back and forth, checking that she still could.

"You were the boy in the lake," Harry said.

Septimus glanced down at his hands, lacing his fingers together. "Yes," he said. "That was me."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to, er, bring up any memories-"

"It's fine. I hadn't forgotten anything," Septimus huffed uncomfortably, not quite a laugh but not quite a sigh. He shrugged. "I can't."

"It must have been cold."

"I couldn't breathe. I was drowning and I couldn't move, and then there was this light… My breathing… I could feel the water in my breath." His voice grew raspier as he spoke, until it was barely a murmur. "I drowned," he murmured.

Septimus stared out across the lake with an odd expression: something like longing.

"People say it's peaceful," he continued. "But there's nothing peaceful about being swallowed alive. I could hear whispers, towards the end. I still don't know what they said." There was a long pause, and then he turned back to Harry and said with a strong heave: "thank you."

Harry raised a surprised eyebrow. "For what?"

"For stopping it."

"I didn't-"

"I know you said that you didn't do anything, but I don't believe you. And I'd like to thank you, for stopping that monster or wizard or whatever it was. You saved people." Septimus look uncomfortably earnest, and Harry was suddenly reminded of Charlie Weasley. Septimus had the same short, stocky build and warm, open face, despite his awkwardness. And, of course, the signature red hair.

"It's nothing," Harry said gruffly. "Seriously, nothing. I did nothing."

Septimus simply laughed (more of a snort, actually), and Harry realised that there would be very little convincing him otherwise.

"You're sort of amazing," Septimus said with passion, waving his hands emphatically. "Really."

Harry searched around for a different topic, his cheeks turning redder the longer they lingered on his 'brilliance'.

"You know, I'm surprised," he said, glancing behind him and towards Chloe, who was still in the midst of the party, chugging firewhiskey and hanging from a taller girl's arm. "I would've thought there'd be more objections. You know, to the whole 'female captain thing'. Especially in Slytherin."

"Well, Chrissie kind of revolutionised the Slytherin Quidditch team," Septimus said, tongue eagerly tripping over his words. "Before her, I don't even think females were allowed on the team. There certainly weren't any. And then Chrissie decided there should be. She had this state of mind she'd get into- mission mode, or something. She forced them to let her on the team. And before you knew it, she was running the whole thing. Of course, a few people left in protest once Christina joined. Rob? Was it Rob? And Damien Grey flew off the rails in the Great Hall. Arty, you remember. It was mostly settled by the time Druella joined. At least within the team. Druella was the second to join, wasn't she?" Septimus turned to confer with Artemis, who nodded shakily.

She looked like she'd partially recovered, but there was an 'unaware' quality to her voice, as if sound was still rattling around in her skull. "They had a thing, didn't they? Their fifth year?"

"Oh yes, so they did."

Harry's jaw dropped a little. "Druella and Christina went out?"

In his mind, it had always just been 'Druella and Walburga'. To hear that Druella had other interests was quite a shock.

"I think it was quite casual," Septimus frowned reflectively. "No one really knew how serious it was, and no one dared ask them. They're quite terrifying, you know. And then one morning they'd broken up- it seemed mutual. Of course, they both knew it could never last. Girls might dabble when they're younger, but they always end up with a husband eventually."

Artemis shrugged. "Professor Merrythought didn't."

"Professor Merrythought's a force of nature. It's not fair, of course, but whilst people might turn their backs to a pair of wizards taking up together-" here, Septimus' gaze slid to Harry and he felt a prickle run up his spine- "but they won't do the same for a witch."

"Witches 'have a duty'," Artemis said, with a bitterness that seemed strange in such a meek witch.

"It'll get better," Harry said with an odd grin. "Pretty soon, it'll just be blood status keeping people chained to the lowest rungs of society."

They all shared a hum of dark amusement, and Harry reflected upon how free it felt to be around Gryffindors: where at least if people had prejudices they felt pressure to hide them. There were no Atticus Averys in Gryffindor- it wasn't allowed.

Speaking of that:

"So what positions do you play?" Harry asked curiously. "I haven't heard much about the Gryffindor team."

"Oh, we're both chasers," Septimus said.

Artemis frowned minutely, narrowing her eyes at Harry. "How did you know? That we were Gryffindors?"

"Because of you, silly," Septimus answered before Harry had a chance, chuckling as if the question was ridiculous. "Everyone knows that all Potters go into Gryffindor."

It was like Harry's world had been put on 'pause'. The party, the rush of the water- even the wind- they all stopped. There were just those two syllables, echoing over and over: suspended in a cautious breath.

"What?" Harry barely managed to force out the word, sure his face must be the colour of parchment.

"Potter," Septimus repeated, his grin fading. "Artemis Potter. They're this family-"

"-I know," Harry said shortly. "I know."

He studied Artemis more closely than before, noticing that- yes, just like Chloe said- they had the same nose. And they were both small- perhaps, even, there was something about the jawline. But other than that, Harry really saw very little resemblance.

But this girl was his relative. Perhaps some kind of great-aunt, or cousin. Harry had never met a member of the Potter family before. It was like waving some tantalising glimpse of family in front of him- a snapshot of a life he could have had. Maybe he would have seen Artemis every Christmas, gathered around the fire and opened presents; laughing as his dad told inappropriate jokes, and hugging his mum when she got nostalgic. This girl could have been a part of Harry- an integral, irreplaceable piece.

But she wasn't. She was just a stranger.

And Harry was just another weirdo at a party.

"You okay?" Septimus said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm good. Bit too much giggle water. It's just- I knew a Potter when I was younger. He was a dick," Harry said, and although the joke was weak, Septimus laughed obligingly. "The sun's setting," Harry gestured across the lake and towards the horizon, where a pretty wash of yellows and pinks fading and darkened into night sky. "I should find my friend."

"Of course," Septimus agreed and, for some reason, reached across to shake Harry's hand.

"Thank you," Artemis said, not uncurling herself from her protective huddle, but offering Harry a wry little smile. "For helping. I hope my surname wasn't too offensive."

"My delicate sensibilities can take it," Harry said, shoving his hands into his pockets to shield them from the cold and pulling Tom's scarf closer to his neck.

"I'll see you on the pitch," Septimus said eagerly. "And maybe even… off?"

"Maybe," Harry agreed, and with a nod he excused himself.

Tom couldn't contain his chuckles as he watched a sixth year girl shriek at her helpless boyfriend, even as she furiously vanished the bird excrement from her hat.

"I didn't mean to laugh," the boy begged. "Please. You were the one who wanted to have it off in the forest-"

"You're an asshole, Al," she snarled. "And I know you've been cheating on me with that bitch."

"That's not true-"

"-Save it!" she hissed, and stormed away.

"I see you've been spreading harmony."

Tom looked over his shoulder, unsurprised to find Harrison standing behind him with his arms crossed disapprovingly, surveying the scene.

"I don't see how you could possibly think this is my fault," Tom said, glancing back as the frustrated (ex?) boyfriend growled and kicked a tree.

"That owl decided to shit on them coincidentally, did it?"

"It's an owl. I hardly think it 'decided' anything."

"No, you did."

"What nonsense. Owls are notoriously unpredictable."

Harrison snorted. "You're such a bastard."

Tom turned slowly and stepped close to the other boy, long, languid steps. "Oh, really?"

"Mmm. I barely know why I invited you."

"You can go back to the party if you want. Find 'Chloe'. She was all over you."

"Jealous, Riddle?" The challenging set to Harrison's jaw simmered hotter than a flame.

"And what would you do if I was?"

"Careful." Harrison grinned. "An owl might take a liking to us."

Tom felt a tremendous tug somewhere in his chest, and he took a tight breath almost involuntarily. "They were being indecent," he half-admitted.

A laugh. "And you aren't?"

"Oh, I'm barely scratching the surface."

"Oh, really?"

There was dark heat in the other boy's eyes, and Tom knew that Harrison was intensely attracted to him. It caused both a tremendous satisfaction (power, Tom had power), and something unrecognisable, foreign, to stir in the depth of Tom's soul. He couldn't name it.

Before he could even begin to figure it out, there was a distant war cry from the general distance of the party. Tom barely had time to glance at Harrison before he was charging off towards the disturbance. Tom let out a heavy sigh- honestly, a Slytherin, for heaven's sake- and followed.

As the pair drew close to the crowd, they found them gathered in a circle around a small girl; blonde and delicate-looking, wrestling with a boy that must have been a few years older. The boy was physically huge, and would have been handsome if his face hadn't been twisted with hatred. The girl was screaming abuse: the origin of the war cry they'd heard; and sported a black eye. The boy bore a nasty-looking red scratch across his cheek, and from his bow-legged limp Tom could tell exactly where else the boy had been hit. His progress hadn't been halted, however, and he had the advantage. To give the girl credit, she was putting up a fair fight, and Tom could see from her jabs: carefully placed and swift, that she would be a sight to behold if she only had her wand.

Which she didn't. Because it was lying on the floor, just inches from Tom's foot.

The crowd wasn't much use: hollering and jeering on the fight. Tom saw a few trying to prevent it; but they were far and few and largely outnumbered.

"That's Bea," Harrison said, with a tone of realisation that meant very little to Tom. "But where are the rest of the team?"

"It's 11 o'clock," Tom replied. "They've probably gone to bed." Indeed, half of the party had cleared out, leaving the drunken masses to rally around the punch-up.

"We need to stop it."

As the girl took a nasty hit to her stomach and her barrage of curses was replaced with vicious coughing, Harrison raised his wand to intervene. Instead, Tom put up a hand and shot Harrison a pointed look. That wasn't the answer. Reluctantly, Harrison's wand was lowered.

Tom cast an amplifying charm and stepped forwards. "That's enough. Be quiet," he said, with calm authority. "Quiet!"

The noise died away and the crowd stilled: the sight of Tom enough to draw interest. Everyone knew Tom Riddle, Head Boy, and everyone knew his power (Tom took a short moment to revel in it.)

Unfortunately, the wrestling pair weren't as wise as the crowd. The girl continued her vicious screams and the boy grabbed her hair, tugging her towards him as she clawed at his wrists. She aimed a kick at his shin and he swore loudly.

Tom sighed and waved his wand. Ropes wound around the pair, pulling them away from each other, at least a few feet. They struggled, but Tom's binds held tight. The girl refocused her abuse at Tom, but he silenced her easily.

"Is that it?" he asked, tying the question up neatly with a lace of boredom.

It would have been so simply to let the fight end; to give them both a detention and be done with it. But whilst Tom had been talking, Harrison had weaved his way over to the girl and begun murmuring to her, even if she couldn't reply. Tom suspected that things were about to get inconveniently emotional.

He was right.

Harrison put his arm around the girl protectively, and frowned at Tom. "She's scared," he said. "Let her go."

"She didn't sound scared," Tom pointed out. "More like a harpy."

"Well, people don't always show what they're feeling, do they?" Harrison said, and Tom suspected there was a message for him hidden somewhere in there.

Tom waited for a moment, but it was mostly for the pretence. He'd never hear the end of it if he didn't give in. And so, sighing a little, Tom released her bonds and the silencing spell. She was Harrison's problem now.

"Bea," Harrison said, bending so he was eye to eye with her. "What happened?"

"That's not my name." the girl spat, "and that fucker tried to rape me."

The crowd gasped at the accusation, and Tom saw students (mostly girls, it had to be said) exchanging looks and whispers of guilt and outrage.

The boy fought against the ropes and howled in outrage. "I didn't go anywhere near you, you tight-!"

"No, you didn't quite get the chance," the girl snarled. She laughed, the sound too high and too cruel. "Because you couldn't fuck a girl if she laid herself in front of you and passed out."

The boy snarled with fury, but it had little effect. He looked rather pathetic now: wet with alcohol and clumsy.

"It's actually sad that the only way you can get a girl is by forcing your-" The girl turned sheet-white as the boy managed to stagger forwards a few steps, and she stumbled back. Harrison caught her, and unwound the scarf (Tom's scarf) from around his neck, wrapping it instead around the girl's.

"It's freezing out here."

The girl batted away his hand and grumbled something about not patronising her. Despite her words, Tom could see a faint compulsive tremor running through her frame, and she clutched tightly at Harrison's arm when he bent to comfort her.

"You're fine," Harrison murmured. "You dealt with him."

"She didn't 'deal with me'," the boy said leeringly, and Tom sent a silencing spell his way.

"I suggest you take a look at who's currently incapacitated and who's not," Tom drawled. "Spoiler: you're not winning." He addressed his next words to the whole gathering. "Is there anyone who can corroborate the girl's story?"

"Her name's Bea," Harrison said.

"My name's Rachel," the girl hissed. "And it's not a 'story'."

The Babbage girl, the one who'd been draping herself over Harrison earlier, stepped forwards. Her eyes were very wide, but she glared at the boy regardless. "I think that's Leon Smith," she declared. "He's in Gryffindor- he was- he was- oh god, I can't remember her name. Maxime. That was it. He was her date. She mentioned that he'd disappeared, but he was-" her voice broke. "Creepy, I think she said. She went back to the dormitories- she didn't feel like staying out. I think he- he-"

Tom noticed that there were tears glistening in the corner of Babbage's eyes. Why? She wasn't the one that had been attacked.

"It was probably just a bit of fun," a boy from the back of the crowds yelled, putting in his two knuts. Tom didn't know his name and didn't really care to.

"Fun?" The Bea girl laughed again. "Oh yeah." She grinned savagely. "It was so much fucking 'fun' when he slipped a potion into my drink. When he tried to lead me into the forest like I can't see a murder when it's coming. When he gripped my skirt and lifted it towards my knees and whispered crap about how much fun we'd have if I only stop being such a prude. He slapped me when I told him to fuck off, and said he'd have fun even if I didn't."

The crowd was very silent.

"There," she said with morbid satisfaction. "All the gory details. Tell your friends. Spread it around. I'm supposed to be a psycho after all."

"You're going to take him to Dippet, right?" a girl called out, hidden in the masses. Her question prompted a wave of loud, insistent questions about what would be done and how it would be stopped, as the students surged forwards. Tom erected a temporary barrier- the girl wasn't in any fit state to receive curious questions.

Amidst the noise, a stunner hurtled past Tom, striking 'Leon Smith' dead in the chest. He slumped to the ground, the ropes sliding from his body and dissipating. Tom didn't need to look around to know who had cast the spell.

"Well, you weren't going to do it," Harrison said.

Tom sighed, but didn't revive the boy. It was no less than he deserved, after all. Instead, Tom summoned the fallen wand from earlier and brought it back to the girl, presenting it with a flourish. She snatched it back and clutched it to her chest like a lifeline.

"Tom Riddle, huh?" Harrison asked, and there was something hopeful in his eyes. A confirmation. "Champion of the oppressed."

"Don't be ridiculous," Tom said crisply. "It was simply getting out of hand." He turned back to the other students. "Alright!" Tom shouted. "This isn't a spectator sport. The party, I'm sorry to say, is over."

The crowd dispersed slowly, despite a general morbid desire to stay and see what happened next. But the events of the evening had thoroughly destroyed any party atmosphere, so slowly but surely the students disappeared into the castle. Babbage remained behind, but she was comforting the 'Bea' girl, so Tom didn't oppose it.

"We need to take Smith to the headmaster," Tom said, indicated to the body. "And you'll need to explain the story, I'm afraid."

"Not a story," the girl muttered once more, but she nodded slightly. "I just need a moment." Tom noticed that her breathing did seem quicker than normal.

"The lakeside has fresher air," Babbage suggested, eager to be helpful. "And there are blankets."

So the four wandered down the hill towards the lakeside and settled on a blanket, Tom levitating the body behind them. He made sure that it hit any branches it encountered. Harrison gave him a strange look the first time it happened, almost like he'd glimpsed a ghost, but he appeared to be over it by the time that they settled down on a blanket. Tom amused himself by rotating the levitating body, angled so that it hung only from its shoulder. Smith would feel it when he woke.

"You impressed me tonight," Harrison admitted quietly to Tom. "You were a good authority figure. Mature- oh, make him do a somersault."

Tom acquiesced, and they watched the lifeless body dance in the air./p

"You know, I thought you'd have some kind of moral objection to this," Tom mused.

"Meh," Harrison shrugged. "He deserves it it." A pause. "The horcruxes," Harrison said suddenly, lowering his voice so that the other two didn't hear. "You're not…?"

"No," Tom agreed.

"Oh," Harrison said, leaning back on his hands. He exhaled. "Good."

Just as he did, there was a tiny, feminine gasp behind them. They looked over at the girl- Bea?- and found her gazing in awe at a glistening, pure white unicorn. It emerged from the treeline to stand only a few feet away, its eyes focused purely on Bea, stamping a front hoof with enthusiasm and tossing its head back.

Beside him, Tom heard Harrison mutter bitterly, "not this dick again."

"Again?" Tom asked.

"We have history," Harrison said, but he raised his voice to call out: "pat it, Bea! It wants your attention."

"Still not my name," Bea called back automatically. Tom saw her shoulders tense, and she hesitated. "I don't think it wants me. I'm not a- I've… I've 'done' things."

Harrison's arm muscles tightened against Tom's. "Did that piece of shit-"

"Not him," Bea admitted. "I was… it was someone else. I wanted it. I wanted to."

Oh, for heaven's sake. Couldn't they speed it up? Who really cared? Apparently not the unicorn, as it let out a whinny and stepped closer to Bea, lowering its forehead.

Harrison snorted. "I really don't think it matters."

"Couldn't you do it?" Bea still looked cautious and admittedly Tom didn't blame her. He got a horrible, sick kind of feeling in his stomach when he looked at the beast.

Harrison laughed again, but this time it was darker. Tom wondered curiously what could have caused that. "Trust me," Harrison said. "You don't want me anywhere near it. Go on- don't be scared."

"I'm not scared," Bea scoffed, but her hand shook a little as she clambered to her feet, shuffled forwards, and touched her fingers to the unicorn's neck. The beast shifted, seeming to enjoy her caresses. Although she had her back to them, Tom suspected that she had smiled.

When Tom glanced over at Harrison, he saw a similar expression.

"Oh, it's beautiful," Babbage breathed.

They let the girl pamper and fuss over the unicorn for a few more minutes, after which Tom checked his watch. "It's late."

"Bea!" Harrison said. "We need to go."

"Okay," she agreed. As she turned away from the unicorn and began to walk back towards them, her face was calmer; more serene. It had lost its hard angles and lines. (The next stage of shock? Tom wondered.)

"That looks uncomfortable," she remarked, seeing her attacker's body hung in the air. But she kept on walking past them, and before Tom and Harrison could react, she was marching towards the castle with little more than a "keep up, idiots!".

Tom raised a single eyebrow. "Well, you heard her."

"And we should probably move fast if the forest is coming out to play," Harrison said grimly, peering at the spilled inky depths of the trees. "The last time I was in there, I really pissed off some centaurs."

TRIGGER WARNING: Attempted sexual assault. Nothing actually happens and its not successful, but please keep yourself safe. It's just after Harry and Tom hear a war cry if you want to avoid it x

Well, that was a chapter filled with very few beloved characters! But it was introductory for some important(-ish) players this year, so there kind of had to be some kind of social event. Hopefully it wasn't too bamboozling XD And Tom and Harry almost went on a date!
Thank you for all your kind words and wishes last chapter. It's been a bit tough (slightly explaining the lengthy break between this chapter and the last), but I'm genuinely a lot better now. I've sort of fallen out with one of my oldest/closest friends since we last spoke (lol, life is fun), but I've found some people and I'm keeping myself busy. And thanks for your surprise over my age XD I've never had so many disbelieving compliments in my life! (It's a good thing)

ALSO/MAYBE MORE IMPORTANTLY (UP FOR DEBATE): Fun news, and just in time for the spirit of Christmas! I got a ko-fi thingy-majigy. So if you want to show your support monetarily (which is in no way a requirement and PLEASE feel no obligation or pressure to give anything at all!) but if you do have a few spare dollars/pounds/currency rolling around that you want to throw at a broke student, this is the place to do it! It would mean a lot :)

(link is on my tumblr :))