A/N: After giving this story a proper re-read, I feel like I've just injected redbull into my eyeballs. What was even going on with my pacing? Some of the characterisation was a bit off in places too. I clearly had no idea how to write a scene back then, and I also seemed to get "scene" and "chapter" mixed up in my head.
So how do I plan on cleaning this up? Good question. Honestly, I'm inclined just to keep writing and see where it goes. These days, I am big on plot structure, but my ability to write proper word pictures seems to have suffered for it (I used to write beautiful prose while at school, but I think my jaded ass has sort of lost it). It also means I hardly get anything finished due to procrasti-planning and perfectionism, so lets see what happens when I write with nothing but the vague plan in my head and see what sort of stoater gets squeezed out in the end. I hope you all enjoy the journey with me.
The time-turner was inert for the next two months, and the recent robbery had kept Harry so on edge, that he was getting some pretty severe pain in his neck from the tensing of his shoulders, and his jaw from the grinding of his teeth. It was rare that anybody ever got the jump on him, and for it to happen in his own room was downright humiliating.
His number one suspect was Jed. He was the only one who visited his rooms regularly without knocking. They hadn't spoken since their abrupt conversation at the feast, and Harry had made no effort to approach him. Jed's reaction to delaying the book had put an unsavoury taste in his mouth, and he'd been tempted on multiple occasions to throw the notes he had into the fire, but the uneasy look in Dumbledore's eyes every time his thoughts turned that way made him reconsider. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling, as accustomed as he was to it, that Jed might have been using him. For what? He wasn't sure.
Harry jumped as a bird song as loud as a gong sounded from the tapestry next to his desk. The thread weaved impression of Fawkes tilted his head inquiringly at Harry as another figure stood next to him mirroring whoever was on the other side. He recognised Petunia's blonde hair, Hugo's ginger curls, and Lily's red bob. Harry nodded his assent, and the figures moved forward and appeared as they should in physical form in his room.
"Sooo weird," Said Petunia, looking back at the tapestry and jumping when she found herself nose-to-nose with Fawkes. Hugo adjusted his glasses as he seemed to analyse the tapestry's enchantment, while Lily stormed right up to Harry's desk and slammed her palms on the table. Harry swore he felt a surge of warm air blow his hair back as she did.
"Is there something going on between you and Professor Hallow?" she demanded.
Harry reeled, while Hugo and Petunia looked at each other worriedly,
"So… We're not going for the subtle approach?" Hugo asked tentatively. Lily whipped her head around to throw him a glare, and he was quick to throw up his hands in surrender. Rounding back on her father, her dark green eyes seemed to smoulder as they bored into him. Harry was torn between pride and emasculation… Then he processed the question she'd put to him.
"Jed?" He asked incredulously, "Definitely not. In fact, we haven't spoken in weeks. Months, probably."
"We keep having dreams," Lily said, gesturing between herself, Petunia and Hugo, "They're mostly about you, and lately Professor Hallow has been showing up, looking pretty… I dunno…"
"Like Grandpa when he's angry and has had too much whiskey," piped up Petunia, and Harry stared at her. He didn't like how pale her face was as she recalled a drunk and violent Vernon. She avoided Harry's eyes, and Harry realised with a jolt of protective rage, that he didn't like that either.
"Ew, he looks like that?" asked Lily, "That's… Sort of creepy."
Petunia didn't supply any more insight.
With a swallow to reawaken his suddenly parched throat, Harry changed the subject.
"These shared dreams show no signs of going away, then?"
Lily shook her head, "No, they're getting stronger. We can talk to each other in them now too."
Harry stood up and gestured for the three of them to take a seat on his sofa. He called Wibby and had her make tea and snacks before settling in his armchair. The faint sound of a snore could be heard from Dumbledore's portrait, and Harry smiled to himself as he saw him in his peripheral.
"I think it's safe to say that you've been dealt a particular hand, just as I was when I got given this," He lifted the hair covering his scar. It was rare that he showed it, and the teenagers took the opportunity to study it closely before Harry dropped his arm again.
"I hope you know that you don't have to deal with any of this on your own. Not only do you have each other, like I had Ron and Hermione, but you will have me. I am not under any delusions, like many adults are, that you can avoid danger. It will find you, no doubt. It already has, and you won't be able to avoid it. No matter what sort of trouble you find yourself in, no matter how much it is or isn't your fault, I promise you; I have your back. Do not hold out on me everything, and I will do whatever I can to help. I promise."
Petunia burst into tears, making Hugo and Lily jump. She leapt from the sofa and into Harry's arms. It took a moment for him to recover, but Harry pulled her onto his lap properly and let her cry, rocking her gently. Hugo and Lily seemed close to tears themselves, but Harry sensed they knew Petunia needed the hug more than they did. That said, he stood up, taking Petunia with him, and sat between Hugo and Lily on the sofa, where they engaged in the hug themselves.
Lily spoke first, between sniffs and small sobs,
"I didn't know you would… I kind of thought you'd get mad or… Try to tell us to resist having dreams or… Stay away from danger."
"Yeah, I probably would have if you'd told me this last year. What good would it have done? I'd have put you in even more danger by making you think you couldn't confide in me anymore." He sighed. "I made so many mistakes when I was a student here. So, so many. You know where we'd all be if I hadn't made those mistakes?"
He let the question hang in the air for a moment, then said, "I think Petunia would be the only one who'd have been born for a start, and she'd have been hunted and killed as a muggleborn if her powers were ever found out. I would be dead, and so would Ron and Hermione." He sighed, realising now how morbid he was being in front of his niece, nephew, and daughter, "You three need to make your own mistakes. We have no idea what's at stake if you don't."
"Can you teach us how to fight?" Petunia said, looking up at Harry with puffy, tear-stained eyes, "You were a dark wizard catcher, right?"
Harry looked between her, Lily, and Hugo, seeing the same hopeful gaze mirrored in each of them. He nodded. "Yes, I'll teach you." He paused, and said, "Come to the seventh floor corridor and walk three times past the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy while thinking about how much you need a place to train in defensive magic. A door will appear opposite the tapestry. I'll be in there every Friday after the feast unless I'm caught up unexpectedly. If I'm not there, you can practice between the three of you."
"What about curfew?" Asked Hugo, "How do we get back to our dorms without getting in trouble?"
Harry grinned devilishly, "That will be part of your training."
Harry had not admitted how terrified he was about the new golden trio and their apparent involvement in whatever weirdness was happening. He felt a twinge of guilt when he thought about how he'd convinced them to be honest with him, as he had not been equally inclined to share anything of the time-turner or his run-in with the Elves. The guilt twisted his heart harder still when he realised that he had not even considered telling Ron or Hermione about all of this.
He shook the thought out of his head. Telling them would only muddy the water even more.
Teaching the kids how to do advanced tricks was incredibly rewarding. The direct tutelage was more effective than a classroom environment when Harry's attention was split between up to thirty students at once, and Hugo even managed to nonverbally shield himself from a disarming charm. They all cheered him at once while Hugo wondered what it was he'd done.
"I did a nonverbal spell? I didn't even think about it…"
"That's the trick to it," said Harry, "Thinking too hard about the spell makes it less likely to happen."
"Oh… Sort of like dancing?" said Petunia thoughtfully, "The dance gets all awkward and robotic if you start counting the beat, cos you've got to feel it."
She started to dance to a tune that only she could hear, and for a moment, Harry was reminded of Luna Lovegood. He chuckled to himself. Petunia waved her wand around her, and streamer ribbons shot out the end of her wand, aiding her performance. Harry's jaw dropped along with Lily's. Faster she danced, and more magical lights streamed around her like tiny fireworks dancing between multicoloured fireflies.
Suddenly, her pacing changed, and with a flick of both wand and fingers, some muggle pop song that Harry vaguely recognised filled the room. Bopping along to the beat, Petunia shot off several offensive spells to one dueling dummy after another. She blew a hole in one, threw another backward into a wall, and made several others dance along with her. Harry's eyes shot up past his hairline as she ended her performance in a freezeframe surrounded by her makeshift backup dancers.
"Um…" said Harry, dumbfounded as he tried to process what had just happened, but he was interrupted by Lily's delighted shriek. She ran up to her cousin and hugged her tight enough to make her burst. Hugo laughed as he watched them, eyes shining.
Harry grinned as he watched the exchange. He was proud, sure, but mostly he was just relieved. Those three kids were going to be just fine, they just needed a small nudge.
Harry was still smiling as he wandered the halls of Hogwarts that evening. He was on patrol, making sure students weren't up past curfew. The dark corridors seemed less foreboding now that he wasn't one such student, carefully avoiding creaky floorboards and freezing in place every other second with bated breath at even the slightest noise that could be a teacher's footsteps.
Harry realised with a chuckle that he wasn't making an effort to be quiet now - after all, maybe the odd rulebreaker or two had important business, just like he did. Who was he to judge?
He was so lost in thought that he smacked right into someone coming from a side corridor. Both of them made noises of pain and surprise before looking at each other. It was Jed.
"Ah, Potter. Apologies." He bowed humbly, "My eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the dark yet, I've just left my room."
Harry felt a little uneasy. Jed was being formal and polite like they were acquaintances again. He would have preferred it if he'd been rude, at least then he'd have a good reason to feel put out by this exchange, and, better yet, a reason to snap at him like he wanted to.
They couldn't see much of each other in the dim light, but Harry's silence said enough for Jed, who sighed and took Harry's hand in both of his. "I am sorry, Harry."
"For what?" Harry said, pulling his hand away in a panic. Jed's hand had been very warm against his cold one.
"For my outburst."
"I don't accept," said Harry, and even though he couldn't see Jed very well, he could sense his surprise. "The outburst isn't the problem, is it? It's whatever warranted it. The part I don't know about."
Silence again. Jed's silhouette nodded. "I have a personal stake in the matter. I can't tell you exactly what it is -"
"I think you can," Harry interjected, stepping closer to the man, "I think you absolutely can, and should, tell me what the hell kind of stakes you've got in my life that you think are too terrible to tell me."
"Don't tempt me, Harry, please…" Jed's voice near enough whined at him, and Harry felt his heart lurch. When had Jed moved so close to him? The scent of vanilla, coffee, and anise overpowered Harry's senses, and breathing was more effort than it was before. He had to put out a hand to rest against the wall to steady himself, but he was saved the trouble as Jed pushed him back, firmly supported by the stone wall, and by Jed's solid torso, which was heaving as much as Harry's was.
"What're you doing?" Harry said dumbly, his words slurring together as if their sudden closeness had made him drunk.
"I don't know," Jed panted, "I didn't think I'd get this far before you hexed me into next week." Harry let out a stupefied chuckle, and Jed mirrored it.
Harry couldn't believe the situation he was in, and he barely had a clear enough head to acknowledge what was going on. All he knew was… Jed. Gorgeous, handsome, muscular, smells-amazing Jed had him, Harry, closeted and in way over his head, pressed against a wall. Something else much lower down than his heart also lurched, and Harry felt his eyes roll before he stopped them. How long had it been?
"Fuck it," Harry hissed, and he closed the small distance between their lips. Jed let out a relieved breath through his nose while he indulged in Harry's mouth, a warm hand coming to rest on Harry's cheek.