A/n: A lot happens in what was originally the next chapter, so I'm breaking it up for attention.

Kurt gave himself the once over in the mirror, blowing himself a kiss and pursing his lips with satisfaction; he was smoking hot and nobody could tell him differently. He grabbed his purse and left his room, shooting himself a seductive wink in the mirror before he went. Waiting for Kurt at the Slytherin Dungeon entrance, dressed in a tux that he'd borrowed from Finn, was Ron.

"I like your suit," the boy beamed at him.

Kurt smiled, "I wish you had let me alter yours." Kurt straightened the jacket on the shoulders, "it could look quite exceptional if only it fit just a little better."

"Then it wouldn't fit Finn afterwards," The boy shook his head, "That wouldn't be right."

"Again," Kurt rolled his eyes, "Finn hasn't worn this suit and I am almost certain that he never will."

"Oh," Ron nodded to himself as realisation dawned, "It's that kind of loan."

"I initially used the term gift," Kurt countered.

"That you did," Ron nodded to himself, "you know I can't accept a gift like this."

"Of course, I know that," Kurt nodded vigorously, "what are we, savages? It needs to be tailored before you can even think of wearing it again."

"I meant-" he let out a tired sigh, "it's too grand."

"It's only Ralph Lauren," Kurt shook his head, "think of it as pay back for all those sweaters your mother knits for me at Christmas time."

Ron nodded as they stood at the door to the Potions Master's solar, "thank you."

"And that is how you accept a gift," Kurt smirked. He handed his compact to Ron, "Hold this."

"Your wish is my command," the boy bowed.

Kurt adjusted his black lace tiara so that the arches lined up perfectly with the contours of his face, "How do I look?"

"The suit says Kurt Hummel," Ron gaped at him, "but the headpiece says 'Better than your everyday Dark Lord'!"

"It better," Kurt smirked, "it's Westwood."

"That doesn't mean anything to me," his friend shrugged.

Kurt clicked his tongue in disgust, "I'll try not to hold it against you." Kurt hooked his arm in Ron's, "Let's do this. People need to see me looking deadlier than the killing curse."

Ron opened the door and Kurt entered the party, all eyes were glued on him in his over the top ensemble. Even alumni of the Slug Club were captivated by his presence, a chorus of whispers making their way around the room as those who didn't know him tried to discover what they were missing out on, and those who knew him and his antics offered their usual commentary or praise.

Professor Slughorn walked right up to the pair, abandoning an ongoing conversation in their favour, "Mr Hummel, you're looking quite the spectacle."

"Thank you," Kurt pursed his lips as one of his peers handed him a flute of champagne. Kurt took a slow and leisurely sip of his drink, "And thank you for having me."

"I could never think to have one of my supper parties without a wizard like yourself," the man chuckled merrily, "and who do we have with us?"

"Ron Weasley," the lanky boy answered, "I'm in your sixth-year potions class."

"And a dear friend to myself, Ms Granger and Harry," Kurt added, schmoozing on Ron's behalf, "Also Gryffindor's star keeper."

"Ah," He shook Ron's hand with little interest, "yes." He turned to Kurt, "Mr Hummel, have you ever considered playing for the Slytherin Quidditch House team?"

"Me?" Kurt gasped, shock marking his face.

"Yes," the man leaned forward, whispering his words conspiratorially, "you know, both of your parents were quite proficient players in their own right."

"I might have heard tell," Kurt shrugged, playing coy.

"Rudolphus was a beater unparalleled by any in speed and agility," the man's eyes grew bright as if he were recalling the golden age, "strapping, with the shoulders of a man before he was fifteen. And an arm that could have gone pro, that had earned him his spot on the shelf."

"Is that so?"

The man seemed to remember himself, "that was before this business with… had to cull the shelf a good deal after that."

Kurt nodded slowly, exchanging an empty flute of champagne for a full one, "between the two of us," Kurt matched the man's conspiratorial ton from earlier perfectly, "Did Bellatrix ever make the shelf?"

"Bella Black was a marvellous student," he nodded, "she was one that I was truly proud of, her career at The Daily Prophet was only beginning when she got mixed up in all that nonsense, but she was a star pupil."

The man thought back on his former student with reverence and awe, "she was top of her year in almost every subject she took, she had a thirst for knowledge and a drive to learn." He let out a tired breath, "a Quidditch keeper of note. I made her House Prefect without hesitation, and when the time came I advocated for her to be made Head Girl."

He let out a tired sigh, "she was an exceptional young woman, broke my heart to take her picture down." He let out a steadying breath and smiled mischievously, "between the two of us, hers is the only one of that lot I kept."

"Thank you," Kurt smiled politely, "it isn't often that people want to remember the people that they were before they became monsters. Having never had the opportunity to know them at all, it gives me comfort to think of them as more rounded individuals."

"It has been a pleasure," he smiled, "it is always good to be asked, especially by a student of your calibre of character."

"Stop," Kurt blushed, "you flatter me."

"It is a pleasure to watch someone like yourself express themselves in such an open manner," the man grinned and his jowls quivered; his teeth looking like tiny, white prisoners in his immense mouth, "If I were a man, fifty years younger and a good few stone lighter, I might try my hand at a look so daring."

"You're too kind," Kurt shook his head, playing at bashful, "I simply dress how I feel on the inside."

"Good for you," the man applauded him with great vigour.

Kurt smiled politely, "My date seems to be getting antsy," Kurt gestured to Ron, we'll catch up over the course of the night.

Kurt was less than impressed by the décor of the event, Professor Slughorn was no slouch but his winter decorations paled in comparison to Professor Flitwick's annual masterpieces. This didn't mean that the man had failed to go the whole nine yards when one considered this was merely a dinner with students; especially considering that people passed the NOut like Harry Potter would be present. But it was surely lacking in Professor Flitwick's signature touch of whimsey, their charms professor had an unrivalled eye for frozen centre pieces, red, gold, spruce and lillies.

Kurt hugged Hermione while she and Luna gushed over his tiara, "You look… I have no words."

"He looks like a sexy demon," Luna added, "Something I would imagine Puck from A Midsummer Night's Dream as wearing."

"I don't know what to say to that," Kurt furrowed his brow, "is it supposed to be a compliment? I love you Luna but what does a compliment from someone as… uniquely dressed as you mean? Am I supposed to feel good about myself right now?"

"You're funny," she giggled, "Harry Potter was looking for you."

Kurt quirked a curious brow, "Harry Potter was looking for me?"

"Yes," she nodded, "he spent the first ten minutes after he arrived trying to catch a glimpse of you over the tops of the crowd's heads."

"That sounds like it was adorable," Kurt smirked, suppressing a chuckle.

Hermione nodded, "Sickeningly so, why won't he finish puberty and achieve human height?"

"Now, now," Luna giggled, "Play nice."

"The décor is amazing," Hermione mused, "look at the size of that spruce."

"I find swiss pine to be a superior Christmas tree," Kurt turned his nose up at the comment, "the smell is much more festive."

"Would you like a cigarette with that?" Hermione smirked and Kurt chewed his lip.

"Am I missing something?" Luna looked between the pair suspiciously, "do tell!"

Hermione's smile grew more spirited, "should I?"

Kurt finished his champagne and got a fresh flute, "Wherever is that Potter boy?"

"When Kurt smelled amortantia, it smelled of Pine, Citrus and tobacco," Hermione explained.

Luna nodded for a moment, "what else do we know?"

"Kurt called him 'Green Eyes' in a letter confessing his love," Hermione squealed excitedly.

"Green eyes," Ron turned away from the buffet table for a moment, "Are you talking about Harry?"

"Where did he get off to?" Kurt looked around the room for his friend.

"Harry?" Neville asked as he and Mandy approached, "He was asking about you earlier."

"So I keep hearing," Kurt nodded, "Where did they go?"

Mandy shrugged, "Lisa made a big deal of telling me she was going to the bathroom, and then they both disappeared. They could have gotten anywhere by now but they probably went to the library."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "I don't know whether to wait and be drunk when they get back or to go look for them."

"Get the best of both worlds," Mandy handed him a charged champagne flute, "go look for them while you're drunk."

"That is a terrible idea," Neville shook his head, handing Kurt a freshly charged glass, "But like a fire, I can't look away."

"That's because I've been working on a way to use fire to hypnotise people," Kurt hiccupped, "it has not been successful, fire is not the answer to everything."

"That's a good level," Hermione took his glass away and replaced it with a full one, "come back if you finish this glass before you find them."

Kurt pointed to the door, "here I go."

He wandered the dark, deserted halls of the castle for five minutes or so; he hummed a Toni Braxton song as he tried classroom and closet doors to see if one would give way. Finally one opened and it took Kurt a moment to realise what he was seeing, he dropped his glass when it dawned on him what horror stood before him.

Harry Potter's pale buttocks were tensing and releasing, Lisa's legs were wrapped around his waist, and they were fornicating, "I hope you're using protection."

Kurt shut the door and screwed his eyes shut; he would never unsee the horror that had just befallen him, and he had to consider whether it was worse than when he had watched Harry kill Professor Quirrell with his bare hands. Kurt buffed his nails on his shirt, waiting for the young couple to finish their business.

It wasn't long before Lisa exited the classroom, adjusting the hem of her flapper style dress, "Kurt."

"Hi," Kurt nodded and grinned at her, "Get yours!"

She fixed her hair and stepped into her thong before walking away, "see you in a bit."

Harry appeared in the doorway, a scowl on his face, "I don't want to hear it."

"You were looking for me," Kurt shrugged defensively, "I'm not sure what it is I'm not supposed to say but I promise to try my hardest."

"I know you're not fond of Lisa but we made an adult decision," Harry crossed his arms with pride, "So I don't want to hear you bash her."

"You're the one who is supposed to bash her," Kurt smirked, "I don't care."

"Well," Harry was silent for a moment, "I wasn't expecting that, I still have more stuff prepared."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Let's pretend you changed my mind for the better, address whatever matter you wanted to discuss with me so desperately earlier in the evening, and then I can go carry on drinking."

"You sound like your grandmother," Harry giggled.

"Not a bad person to sound like," he shrugged, "Ever seen Oma wanting for anything? She found someone rich to spend her life with and her glass is never empty."

"She is a very fortunate person," Harry shrugged.

"She is that bitch," Kurt nodded.

Harry nodded for a moment before shaking himself out of his stupor, "So, Dumbledore has been showing me memories that he has gathered over the years that relate to Voldemort with the hope that it might help us defeat him."

"Is that what's happening in your story line?" Kurt rolled his eyes, his disinterest evident.

Harry nodded, "His mother's family was hard core crazy, his uncle and grandfather were imprisoned for attacking a ministry official. His mother used love potions to trick his father, a muggle, into marrying her but he left her when she was pregnant." Harry explained with some excitement in his voice, "she died during childbirth and he grew up in an orphanage, where Dumbledore found him."

"Really?" Kurt asked enthusiastically, "You guys have cracked the case wide open, I should abandon my research in favour of finding out mundane facts about Tom Riddle's childhood."

"I get the feeling that you aren't impressed," Harry narrowed his gaze suspiciously, "your tone is quite convincing so I can't tell…"

"Well," Kurt kept his tone the same, "In four months you've discovered the same amount of information as I did during one evening in the Chamber of Secrets and an afternoon at the Ministry for Magic."

"I see," Harry nodded, "What do you have?"

"A codex in Alexandria that'll surely lead to the deplorable word," Kurt smirked, "just as soon as we manage to translate that dialect of Phoenician."

"So, samesies," Harry teased, "except I know that it was Slughorn who told Voldemort about the exact magic that keeps him from dying, I know exactly what most of their conversation was. I'm going to use that."

Kurt scoffed, "You don't think Professor Slughorn remembers that memory perfectly," Kurt quirked an expectant brow, "it probably haunts him daily because of the power it gave Voldemort."

"So, he'll want to help."

"Or he'll want to protect himself," Kurt shook his head, "this will either go really well or it'll be a horrible disaster."

"I'm going to roll the dice," Harry shrugged, "you've got my back." They made their way back to the party but stopped short of the final turn, "Do you hear that?"

Kurt strained his ears and catches what Harry was eluding to, "whispering?"

"Snape," Harry clarified as they listened closely.

"Let me help you," Snape asked.

"No," the voice countered, somewhat frantic, "he chose me, he trusts me."

"And he would want you to take my help if it means getting the job done."

"No," the voice spat back, and for the first time Kurt recognized the voice as Draco's, "You only mean to steal my glory, do not interfere."

Professor Snape was silent for a moment, "Do you know that I made your mother the unbreakable vow? That I would do everything in my power to help you along in your endeavors."

"That sounds like your problem."

~0~

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

01st September 1000 AD

06:24 PM

She was less than impressed by the castle which she had called home all her life than her peers who were awed by every detail which had grown mundane to her. The first years milled up the stairs and filled the antechamber outside the Great hall as they did every year, normally she would be seated next to her mother at this time but this was her year to begin her formal education.

She leaned over to the boy with the coffee coloured skin who stood beside her, he had taken the train and had been talking animatedly to anyone who would listen since they had arrived, "Do you know who he is?"

The boy followed her finger to a striking young man with chestnut coloured hair and silver eyes, he grinned broadly, "That there be Edward Tuft-Waldon, he'll be the Baron of Kesteven before he finishes at Hogwarts."

"Oh?" she quirked a curious brow.

The boy nodded, "Yes, his family is old, Purebloods from Germany."

"You are informed," she nodded to herself.

"That I am Ms Ravenclaw," he nodded and extended a friendly hand, "Bertram Colin Pavinsky, everyone calls me Peeves on account that I tend to get on people's nerves. What with the amount that I tend to talk and all."

"I see," she nodded mindlessly, not looking away from Edward.

Peeves smiled broadly, "I see you've taken a fancy to the future Baron, yes? I don't blame you, he is cute!"

"Oh," her attention briefly turned to her new friend, "that's nice."

"He is definitely Slytherin material," Peeves nodded to himself, "he has the pedigree for it and… look at him, that is future Head boy material."

"Slytherin material?" she quirked a curious brow, "my mother always says that Salazar is a brilliant man that I can learn a lot from but should never be like."

Peeves shrugged, "I'm almost certain you're going to have to call him Professor Slytherin from now on."

Helena nodded, realising that all her familiarities with the staff of Hogwarts would work against her when the time came for her to make friends with her peers. She smiled at her friend, "which house are you hoping for?"

"I've always had a fondness for books and knowing things, so Ravenclaw makes sense for me," the boy spoke a mile a minute, "but I have a sense for adventure that only Gryffindor can quench, even if Gryffindor isn't known for producing the most successful wizards."

"I honestly have no idea how I'm supposed to choose a house," she shook her head.

"Choose?" Peeves' eyes grew wide, "I thought we were assigned our houses."

"Most people are," she agreed, "but a little known secret is that you have input in where you end up, you can ask for a specific house."

The boy nodded, then shook his head, "I'm going to leave being responsible for my potential unhappiness to the system."

"Knowing I could change the course of my life would drive me crazy," Helena shook her head, "I'm about to have the debate of my life."

They were led into the great hall, Godric greeted them and welcomed them to Hogwarts. The man flourished his crimson robes as he spoke about how the house system worked, how they should consider their houses to be their families, Helena noted his omission of her mother's closer on the importance of following the school rules in pursuit of success- she wrinkled her nose at that.

She watched as students were called out one by one, flashing a thumbs up Peeves when his turn came up. The boy walked confidently up the stairs, seated himself in the chair and allowed the leather hat to be placed on his head of tight black curls, "Gryffindor!"

"Helena Ravenclaw," Godric called out, there were whispers all through the great hall. Helena tried to mirror Peeves' confidence but must have fallen short because Godric whispered, "You'll do great Sweetheart."

"Thanks," she whispered softly.

The hat she had watched with unabating curiosity for all her years at Hogwarts was placed on her head, 'We meet at last, young Helena.'

'You know who I am?'

'Yes,' the hat seemed almost to laugh at her insinuation to the contrary, 'Your mother cares deeply for you, I have counselled her on many matters and it seems that you are always on her mind.'

'The ultimate distraction is what she called me,' she countered.

'You are very much like your mother,' the hat trumped her, 'you could learn a great deal from her.'

'Please don't put me in her house,' Helena begged.

'There is nowhere else for you,' the hat countered, 'you will not go with Godric or Salazar, and you would not grow under the tutelage of Helga.'

'Please, I'll go with Salazar.'

'And break your mother's heart?' she knew there was no responding to that, "Better be, Ravenclaw!"

~0~

Kurt was seated in the lounge of The Burrow as people were speeding all around him, getting Christmas niceties organised- his offers to help had been rebuffed by Mrs Weasley. He was sipping his champagne when the room was invaded by Andromeda Tonks in a floor length silk dress, she was followed by a jolly and plump man with grey hair- the flank was brought up by Nymphadora.

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," Andromeda kissed him on the cheek, "you look amazing."

"I can only say the same," Kurt held his breath for a moment as he gawked at her body, "I die."

"That's what they all say until they're all actually dead," Nymphadora scoffed.

Andromeda rolled her eyes, "don't mind her, she's been quite the pill for the last few months."

"Have I now?" Tonks countered.

"Yes," Andromeda turned to her daughter, "I don't understand why you won't just move out of my house if you hate me so much."

"Because not everything is about you," Tonks snapped, "Ever consider that?"

"Ladies," the man interjected, "play nice."

A wicked smile spread across Andromeda's beautiful face and- in that moment- she looked like Bellatrix, "Yes Darling, why don't you carry that little torch of yours all the way to Rome."

Three of four jaws in the room went slack in shock, "Dora." The man called out after her but she didn't pause, storming off. He turned to his Aunt, "Dromeda!"

"What?" she reclined onto the day, "she needs to grow up." She shook her head and all of Druella broke through her surface, "If she acts like a child then I'll be more inclined to take childish jabs at her."

"You sound like your mother," Kurt teased her.

She chuckled, "don't we all spend our lives slowly turning into our parents?"

"If you agree to drinking the matter, then I will concede to turning into my grandmother," Kurt smirked, not being specific as to which one he meant.

"Agreed."

"Perfect," Kurt shook his wand like a bell and chiming filled the room, "Ginny!"

The preteen girl appeared in the doorway to the kitchen with a scowl on her face, "What is it Kurt?"

"Could we have a glass for Andromeda?" he then pointed to the ice bucket just outside arm's length from him, "then, could you charge our glasses? Please and Thank You."

Just as soon as Ginny disappeared, the man who had arrived with the Tonks women reappeared, "You're going to have to talk to her, she's hysterical and talking about moving out to find an apartment in London."

"Good luck with that," Kurt scoffed, "the housing market will send her running home."

"I'm sorry," the man turned to Kurt, "But who are you?"

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel," Kurt lazily extended a hand that forced the man to come to him.

"Ted Tonks," the man nodded politely.

Kurt gaped, "the Ted Tonks?"

"I don't know what that means," the man shook his head.

"Druella is like… obsessed," Kurt gushed as Ginny filled his glass, "she says you're thoughtful and kind."

"That is surprising," the man grinned, "considering I've never met her." He eyed Kurt suspiciously, "How do you know her?"

"I'm her grandson," Kurt shrugged the fact off casually, "by way of Bellatrix."

"Bellatrix LeStrange?" his eyes grew wide.

"The name isn't that common," Kurt shook his head, "but yes, that Bellatrix."

"Well," the man nodded to himself, "I'll be."

"Be babes," Kurt smirked.

"I remember the day I told her that," she downed her champagne, "it was the last time I spoke to my mother, the last thing I said to her."

"Wow," Kurt gaped at her, "seems that you both remember it well."

"How could I forget?" she chuckled, "it was the morning of my wedding, she came to see me at the the three broomsticks inn and ask if I was certain I wanted to make the choice I was making."

"And that's what you told her?"

"First I proclaimed proudly that I loved him," she pulled her husband into her arms and, for the first time, Kurt saw her softer side, "because he was many things but chief among those was that he was thoughtful and kind."

"That is beautiful," Kurt flashed a small smile.

"The last thing she said to me made Amelia cry," Andromeda smirked, "she said, 'I hope the happiness he gives you is worth everything that you're giving up'." She bowed her head and kissed the crown of her husband's head, "she relieved me of any doubt with those words."

Kurt had to take a deep breath to keep his vision from fogging up, "Druella and yourself have quite a bit to talk about, you clearly cared for each other deeply."

"Nobody and nothing made my mother act the way she chose to act," Andromeda shook her head, "she had her own wealth and Education, status and influence; she could have stood against my father to no consequence, but she chose to shut me out like everyone else."

"Your mother is a mess," Kurt nodded, "But you have her to hate, you should at least find out if anything has changed in the twenty-three years since you last spoke."

"That's cute but your mother is dead, my mother pretends I'm dead."

"Fair," Kurt shrugged.

Andromeda shrugged, "but she never beat me, isn't that the standard?"

"Kurt," a set of hand rested on his shoulders, he looked up at Ron's freckled face, "you can come sit for dinner."

"Get the ice bucket," he got to his feet and held out an inviting hand for Andromeda, "Shall we?"

Ron led them out of the house to a large dome tent. The interior of the tent was draped in fine white silks, was filled with short tables surrounded by leather ottomans with centrepieces of white calla lilies. Ron instructed Kurt to remove his shoes and his feet sank into the fluffiest white rug, Kurt let out an involuntary moan.

The tent smelled of cinnamon and fresh pine needles, tears welled in Kurt's eyes, "This can't be for me."

"You couldn't have Christmas in Morocco or with your family," Ron spoke for them, "this doesn't begin to scratch the surface of what you deserve."

Hope you're enjoying this... Reviews are love!