Four Weeks Ago.
Kurt smiled at the boy who lived for a moment, proud that the young man was finally realising that he professional help. Then a terrible thought came to him and he shook his head in anger, "this simply won't do."
"Hey," Harry furrowed his brow, "I thought I was supposed to grow, become 'the man who got professional help'. Be more interesting than legally alive."
"No," Kurt smiled once more, "of course, I'm very proud that you can finally see how the trauma you've experienced has negatively impacted…" he gestured to his friend abstractly, "all of this."
"Be nice," Hermione scolded him.
"Is there anymore bacon?" Ron flashed him a pair of puppy-dog eyes.
"Check the pan," he said with a shrug.
"If not me," Harry took a deep breath and swallowed a lump in his throat, "if not me, then what won't do?"
"This business with Regulus," Kurt shook his head, "it complicates things."
"How do you mean?" Harry looked confused; Kurt was reminded that his dear friend was not scholarly, had not done the prescribed readings, and had been excluded from their lesson on Horcruxes. The young man grew angry at the patronising look on Kurt's face, "You're looking at me like I'm stupid and I hate when you do that! Regulus destroyed the locket, he says so in his note."
"Regulus intended to destroy the locket," Kurt corrected, "we have no way of knowing if he succeeded, because he's dead."
"Oh," Harry's mouth fell open, "so, it could still be out there."
"And now we have no way of knowing where it is," Hermione sounded defeated, "Regulus could have hidden it anywhere."
"Unlike the Dark Lord, Regulus isn't known to us," Kurt shook his head, "we can't predict his behaviour."
"If Sirius was alive-"
"He'd be no help," Kurt shook his head, "he and his brother hated each other to the bitter end, Sirius was no confidant of Regulus."
"But who was?"
"You mean, who that isn't a Death Eater?" Kurt tilted his head back and forth as he thought about it, "I could not tell you… Sirius was the only family member near his age that we know of."
"Someone outside the family?" Ron spoke around a mouthful of food, "Lupin maybe?"
"They certainly would have known each other," Hermione agreed, "the question is, did they know each well enough for us to learn anything from him?"
"Remus certainly does have more compassion than Sirius," Kurt shrugged, "it's possible that he knew the young man a little better."
"Don't speak ill of the dead," Ron shook his head, "it's in bad taste."
"They should have been better in life," Kurt shook his head, "being dead doesn't erase who they chose to be, Finn isn't suddenly a genius now that he's dead."
"This is like the canonising Dumbledore thing again, isn't it?"
"You're smarter than you look," Kurt beamed at Ron.
"Thank you."
"Not a compliment," Harry and Hermione chorused.
"Jealousy is not a good colour on you two," the lanky boy shook his head, "not a good colour at all."
Harry rolled his eyes, "Speaking of Dumbledore-"
"The book?" Kurt quirked a curious brow, "are you actually going to read it?"
"What book?" Hermione looked from Kurt to Harry, and back again, "I don't know about a book."
"You were too busy getting your walls blown out to hear anything on the subject," Kurt smirked.
"What?" Harry gaped at Hermione.
"Good for her," Ron nodded his head triumphantly. Then he stopped suddenly, "wait, am I the only one whose walls haven't been blown out?"
"Do you even want your walls blown out?" Kurt quirked a curious brow.
"No," he smirked proudly, "I like my walls exactly the way they are."
"Then don't distract us from the matter at hand," Hermione scolded him, "I want to know what book Kurt and Harry are talking about."
"Rita-"
"No," Ron interjected before Harry could say another word, "the implication of me being the only one whose walls haven't been blown out, is that Harry's walls have been blown out."
There was a lingering silence, they all turned their heads toward Harry Potter, their curiosity evident on their smiling faces. The boy who lived remained neutral, not revealing his truth.
"Are you going to make us ask?"
"Kurt, my dear friend," the young man sighed, "I have no idea what you guys are talking about."
Kurt narrowed his gaze to a glare, "Is Lisa Turpin pegging you?"
"I have no idea what that means," Harry shrugged.
"I'm taking that as a no," Hermione shook her head, "he can't consent to something he doesn't know."
"This is Harry we're talking about," Kurt was disappointed in the brightest witch of the age, "he could be getting pegged right now, and begging for more, and not know what it is."
"Hurtful," Harry crossed his arms.
"True though," Kurt countered.
"Doesn't mean you have to say it out aloud," he shook his head in reproach.
"Fair," Kurt agreed, "let's lay the matter to rest."
"Thank you," Hermione was frustrated to the point of exacerbation, "now, the book.
"Rita Skeeter wrote a tell all about Professor Dumbledore," Harry explained, "she sent Kurt a copy."
"And it is very well written, mostly accurate, and not even a little bit relevant to our hunt for Horcruxes," Kurt shook his head, "or our fight against the Dark Lord."
"I'd still like to read it," Harry growled, "Rita Skeeter lied about me-"
"Because you're boring," Kurt smiled, "Professor Dumbledore's life was plenty interesting, all Rita Skeeter had to do was strike while the iron was hot."
"You believe the things in that book?"
"You haven't read it," Kurt smiled, "I have, I knew the man, it's all true."
Ron suddenly lifted his head, as if realising something for the first time, "Harry?"
"What?" he snapped back, taking his anger with Kurt out on the red-haired boy.
"Have you been here since inherited this place?"
"No," he shook his head, "why do you ask?"
"And yet, it's not in a state of greater disrepair," Ron nodded his head, "no mountains of dust."
"Yes," Harry looked bored at this point, "where are you going with this?"
The lights came on in Kurt's head, "Did you set Kreacher free?"
"What?"
"Kreacher," Kurt glared at him, "you inherited him, did you set him free."
"I…" Harry was silent for a moment, "no."
"Hypocrisy," Kurt sang lilted voice with a vibrato.
"What do you mean?"
"Considering how proud you were of yourself when you freed Dobby, you didn't think to free your own house elf?" Hermione glared at him.
"It's almost as if you freed Dobby to spite the Malfoy's rather than because you believing that no sentient being should kept in bondage," Kurt shook his head in disappointment.
"While you are both right that Harry is the worst for owning a slave," Ron nodded his head but held up a silencing finger, "don't you think that Kreacher might no something about Regulus?" he shrugged, "I mean, he knew about Kurt, so clearly they told him stuff."
The room was silent. Kurt, Hermione and Harry exchanged looks for a moment, considering what they were hearing. Then Kurt smiled proudly, "And Ginny wanted to know why we were bringing you along."
Ron blushed, "I just didn't want to have to wash the dishes."
"Nonsense," Kurt dismissed the boy's fears, "Harry will wash them, we are his guests after all."
Harry slammed his head on the kitchen table, "I hate you so much."
~0~
Three and a Half Weeks Ago.
Getting a hold of Remus Lupin was a lot easier than finding Kreacher. The last instruction Sirius had given the house elf was to get out, he'd yet to be seen or heard from since. But, based on the cleanliness of the house, he would be back soon enough.
Remus was looking rough, the grey was challenging the light brown in his hair for dominance and winning. Kurt suspected that the man simply didn't understand the value of an iron, or a fresh wardrobe, because his wife never looked dishevelled. Tonks could afford to keep him in less shabby clothing, the man's own father could have done it, but Kurt suspected that it was pride that had him looking this badly.
The man sat in the formal lounge of the ancient townhouse, Kurt smiled at him politely as he served tea, "what ever can I help you with?"
Harry cleared his throat, "We haven't heard from anyone since the wedding-"
"Everyone's fine," the man dismissed the young man's concern, "a little worse for wear after facing a ministry sanctioned interrogation but Xun saw to it that nobody was hurt."
"Good," Ron nodded, distancing himself from the conversation about the family he had left behind.
"The ministry is keeping an eye on them though," he nodded his head sadly, "trying to see if either you, or they, will each out to the other."
Kurt smiled, "what's the charge?"
"Information relating to the murder of Albus Dumbledore," Remus said with a tight-lipped smile on his weathered face.
A chill rolled up Kurt's body and settled in his heart, nobody cared that his brother had been murdered. Only he cared about getting justice for Finn, only he wanted to see Thorfinn Rowle in chains for taking from him one of the only things he had left.
Kurt smiled and tilted his head, "Fuck Finn and Professor Snape?"
"Kurt," Harry laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Professor Snape died of natural causes, and we know who killed Finn."
"I would feel better if they were detaining and arresting people for his death," Kurt shook his head, "even if it was the wrong people, even if it was us…"
The group chewed their lips as Hermione reached out to him, "Kurt-"
He shook his head, "Regulus Black, what do you know?"
"Sirius's brother?" Remus looked confused, "not much."
"Harry Potter's hope is that you know more than I do," Kurt took a deep breath, "tell us what you know."
"Some context-"
"Aren't you having a baby?" Harry glared at the man.
Remus looked uneasy, "well-"
"Then we can't risk you," he shook his head, "it's need to know only."
Kurt got to his feet, clapped his hands and ululated with joy. Remus looked afraid, backing away from the man, "what is happening?"
"Kurt is treating me like I'm stupid," Harry hung his head in shame.
"I don't understand," their former teacher watched as he and Hermione danced to celebrate their victory, "what's going on?"
"Harry is… obstinate," Ron explained slowly, "Kurt takes joy every time he's able to teach the boy who lived something without resorting to violence."
"I had to be slapped in the face to learn that attempted murder is bad," Harry shot a quick look at Kurt, "And punched in the face to learn that my powers of deduction are not flawless."
"Speaking of my pregnant wife," the man patted himself down and produced an envelope for each of them, "Andromeda made her make thank you cards."
"Thank you?" Ron looked confused as he took the card.
"The wedding gifts we got them," Kurt chuckled nervously, taking his seat once more and letting his friends know to play along, "Charlie and I were the only guests, but we all chipped in on the gifts."
"Nymphadora doesn't know how to use any of those muggle contraptions," Remus chuckled nervously, "but they do fill the kitchen up nicely."
"we've already started knitting baby clothes," Kurt beamed, "our motif is dove grey to Dior white."
"I don't know what that means," the man shook his head.
"The colours we had last Christmas," Harry explained.
"Wasn't that all-" Remus paused, Kurt's friends gesturing for him not to get Kurt started, "a little to grown for a baby."
"One is never too young for taste," Kurt shook his head.
"We're getting distracted," Harry reprimanded him.
Kurt shook his head with feigned disappointment, "and we have theatre tickets this evening."
"This is why nobody likes you," Harry's intention was to wound.
Kurt raised his hand to his forehead and feigned distress, "you're telling me that people I don't give a fuck about don't like me?" he wiped away imaginary tears, "is Dean Thomas one of these people?"
"No, but-"
"Then I don't give a fuck," Kurt recomposed himself, "the three cutest Gryffindor boys like me, I don't care about anyone else."
Ron punched the air, "I'm considered a cute boy."
Hermione and Kurt shook their heads in tandem, "Dean, Neville, Denis."
"I don't recall a 'Denis'," Remus shook his head.
"First year, the year the year after you," Hermione explained.
"Wow," Remus chuckled, "when I was a junior, the prettiest student was Cissy Black, her sister having just vacated the post, and it was quite the controversy that she was a fifth year."
"Great," Kurt slumped in his seat, "now I miss Tracey Anne."
"We all miss Tracey Anne," Ron agreed.
"If anything were to happen to me, she's in charge," Kurt's tone was matter of fact.
"I thought I'd be in charge," Hermione squealed in displeasure.
"You're too…" Kurt thought of a more palatable way to word his assessment, then decided that he didn't care, "Gryffindor to lead."
"What is that supposed to mean?" everyone in the room chorused.
"You're all too foolhardy to know when you need to step away," Kurt shook his head, "how many times have you people tried to use your incomplete education to save the world? Despite having paid passing attention to it?"
"They wouldn't have put you under the stairs," Harry giggled.
"Damn fucking right," Kurt smirked, "I would have put them under the stairs."
"I thought we retired that joke?" Hermione looked uncomfortable.
"Because it was never for you," Harry shook his head, "it was something special between Kurt and I."
"Wait," Kurt was silent for a moment, as he concentrated very hard, "Venir."
A bottle of wine appeared in his hands and he felt Charlie smile in his soul, he knew that this would be as close to communication as they would come until they were reunited. Kurt's heart hurt, he wished that the young man was with him instead of Remus Lupin.
"Now," he cleared his throat, pushing the sadness back, "you need to spill about Regulus before I'm too drunk to remember."
Kurt opened his purse and produced a set of crystal white wine glasses from his Burkin, still in the box. Like he had done the Hog's Head Inn, he magically removed all the dust and disappeared it.
"Pour, pour, pour," Hermione encouraged him.
"You two need help," Ron shook his head.
Kurt narrowed his gaze so much it looked like his eyes were shut, "if you don't want any-"
"I said nothing of the sort," Ron shook his head, holding out his glass for a generous pour.
Remus held his hands up in surrender, "none for me."
Kurt downed his glass, produced another and glared at Remus Lupin, "what? Do you think you'll become more of a werewolf by drinking wine mid-lunar cycle?"
Kurt refilled his glass and moved to sit in Professor Lupin's lap, "I'm still sober, so listen." Kurt took a large swig from his glass of wine, "just because something terrible happened to you-"
"And you wear the scars," Harry interjected.
"Absolutely correct," Kurt pointe his finger at Harry multiple times for a good minute, "he is so right."
"How unlike me," the boy who lived joked.
"Not wrong again," Kurt nodded his head, burping loudly, "please, excuse me." He took a deep breath, "doesn't mean you stop mattering outside of that."
"If you take your potion when it's that time of the month," Hermione smiled at him, "you can be whomever you want to be the rest of the month… within reason."
"Do you know how to mind dragons?" Kurt quirked a curious brow.
"No," the man shook his head, "considering their illegal to breed in Britain."
"Are you capable of realising that sometimes being the worst can be overcome?"
"I don't follow," the man shook his head.
"I know this one," Harry pointed to himself, "it's about your instincts as a Gryffindor."
"What?"
"He probably wants you to follow instructions," Harry nodded to himself, "be careful, this is when you get slapped."
"I slapped you once," Kurt rolled his eyes, "and it was nothing compared to being prosecuted for attempted murder, with a murder already on your conscience."
"I will do anything to help," the man stood up proudly and saluted Kurt, "I would lay my life down for the cause."
"Relax future father," Kurt shook his head and rolled his eyes, "You're going to be following a deprogramming plan for the dragon that guards the LeStrange Gringotts vault."
Hermione spit her wine back into her glass, "what happened to Charlie?"
"Relax," Kurt shook his head, "he has another duty."
"Are you offering me a job?"
"Yes," Kurt tried his hardest not to sneer, "I think you're the only person I can trust now that Charlie has been relocated, in case we need to get into the vault later."
~0~
Tracey:
Present.
Tracey had thought that the hardest part of her job would be forcing the Slytherin purebloods to interact with the other students and recognise their humanity. She was shocked to learn that her problem was not with senior students, who took to each other and redefined their cliques within the new climate without explicit hate.
She was shocked to find out that there were so many other layers that separated students, which had been hidden by the house system; class being a huge factor. He and Kurt, like the other Slytherins, were from wealthy backgrounds. The only houses with students from beyond the pale were Hufflepuff and Gryffindor; Tracey was forced into introspection by this finding-, were good people poor because it was the only way to be good, or were poor people good to justify their poverty?
The answered had been a little bit more complicated. There were rich people who used their wealth for good, there were poor people who used their poverty to justify their hate. There were rich people who thought themselves above most politics, because it doesn't affect them; and there were poor people who were willing to do anything for a better life.
She had learned all of that on their first night as senior girls, as she divided them at random and saw hearts sink. Tracey was, for the first time, afraid of the consequences of her actions; was she creating future Death Eaters with her choices?
This was the moment where she found out, Ginny Weasley had been duelling in the hallway and Neville was nowhere to help her through her decision-making process. She looked the angry young girl up, Hipster Weasley was giving her the moment by hanging back. She took a deep breath and forged ahead.
"What is this?"
Ginny smiled, "Carpenter had something to say about half-blood magic."
"And your reaction was spellcasting in the hallways?" Tracey shook her head, "in direct contravention of school rules."
"Tracey-"
"Ms Davies," Hefina Flint stood at the top of the stairs, her face still neutral but authority pulpable, "is quite correct."
Every member of the student body watched the elegant woman as she descended the stairs, "blood quantities mean nothing amongst ourselves. That we have magic means that we are in covenant against each other, against the muggles."
Tracey shook her head, "that's not what I said."
"It is incumbent on those of us who have magic," the woman smiled, "to ensure that ours is the race that proliferates."
"Nope," Tracey shook her head, "I'm a feminist, women are more than brood mares."
"Of course," the potions master nodded his head, "but does our liberation mean the death of our families."
She took a deep breath, "the half-bloods, muggle-borns and muggles help to prevent what happened to certain pureblood families from happening to our own."
She threw her arm over Tracey's, "which is why, I will be advocating for the re-introduction of muggle born students to Hogwarts."
She held Tracey by the arm, guiding her away from the crowd. They walked in silence until they came to Professor Snape's old office- it felt empty without Kurt. The beautiful woman took her seat and smiled at Tracey, making her feel uneasy.
"You are very beautiful," the woman nodded, "a half-blood from Rosier stock."
She was unsure how to answer, so she played along, "Yes."
"I have a son," she nodded to herself, "because I was forced to marry a cousin, to keep the blood pure, he is not very bright. I believe there was a rumour about him being part troll."
Tracey's breath caught; this elegant, beautiful and tolerant woman was Marcus Flint's mother? She had the rumours of which she spoke but said nothing.
"I'm a lot more tempered than the Dark Lord," she smiled, "I have read of what muggles call 'hereditary abnormalities' and 'reproductive difficulties'." She poured herself a goblet of wine, "I struggled for years to carry after Marcus."
She smiled, "yet, I've laid once with the filthy breed, to test their hypothesis. And now, I feel life growing inside me."
Tracey did not know what to say as the woman revealed herself to her, "The idea of pure blood is dead, now we must preserve magic from muggle extermination."
"Okay," Tracey nodded her head slowly, "you do realise that the only muggles who know about the wizarding world are the ones with family who are wizards?"
"The one's on our side."
"No," she shook her head, "the ones who know." Tracey took the woman's hand, "while evolution is allowing us random magical children to compensate for how inbreeding is ruining our genome, we need to blame the muggles for keeping our numbers small."
"No," Tracey shook her head, "the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy keeps most muggles in the dark. The people who know are proud or confused parents, and jealous siblings."
"Don't you worry your pretty little head," she smiled, "I have a plan for the future; Muggle-born and Half-blood children raised to hate the muggles." Hefina Flint nodded her head, "in a few generation, we'll have isolated the muggles with potential to create magic. We'll keep those."
Tracey said all she could say, "I see."
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