Neville Longbottom walked through Hogwarts Express with one single goal in mind. He wanted to find Harry Potter. He put this off long enough and now was the last chance before the second year started. What a sorry excuse of a Gryffindor he was. Where was his courage all year? Why would he even need courage to approach… his friend? Somehow it was incredibly difficult.

While Harry's sorting didn't upset Neville, they still naturally fell apart, not having many opportunities to interact, only briefly exchanging glances in the Great Hall or greeting each other in the corridors. Sometimes Harry didn't notice him, too preoccupied with his own thoughts. Sometimes he was surrounded by other Slytherins and Neville avoided them, because it was terrifying. He had enough bullying to deal with in his own House, he wasn't looking forward to more.

He wanted to thank Harry for returning the Remembrall to him. After he woke up in the hospital wing to see the thing on the bedside table Granger told him what happened. So he had every reason to be grateful. But the more he braced himself the less confident he became. Time went by, and surely it was already late to bring this up. So he hesitated and then even more time passed, the need to acknowledge his gratitude still heavy, but the apprehension only growing.

Today he decided to finally do it. Today wouldn't be too weird to bring up that long forgotten event forward… He knew he would be agonising over it all summer if he were to still walk away from this. And bringing it up in the second year would definitely be all the more awkward, and Neville just didn't want to live with this unfinished nagging sensation for the rest of his life.

He didn't think he would be lucky enough to find Harry alone, but as he went through the train he caught sight of other Slytherins by themselves, so there was still hope. Finally, he reached a far away compartment and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Harry, even though there was someone else with him. Opening the door he immediately recognised the Weasley twins and tensed despite himself.

They all turned to him and Neville stuttered.

"Um, hello. I was wondering, may I join you?"

Harry regarded him for a moment, and Neville felt so exposed. That was definitely a stupid idea, he should just go away… But then Harry smiled, "Sure, Neville. Haven't seen you in a while. How is Trevor?"

Was it his imagination or Harry's smile didn't quite reach the eyes? It was fine, Neville breathed. At least Harry was being polite.

"Haven't lost him anymore," he replied and took a deep breath. It was now or never. "I also… managed to forget things less. Thanks to the Remembrall, the one you returned to me?" He didn't know why he was suddenly phrasing it like a question. He was ready to just melt into the floor. "That was back in September, but I always wanted to thank you." He paused realising there wasn't much else to add, so he mumbled. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry just waved him off, "No worries. I'm glad I could help. And Malfoy was acting like a total prat."

Neville flinched while one of the twins whistled, voicing what Neville also thought, "And you are going to live with that prat now."

"My condolences." the other twin said in a deadpan voice.

Harry shrugged. "He's fine."

The twins laughed, not able to withstand the serious tone.

Harry patted a seat beside him, inviting Neville to sit. Neville could feel a nervous blush creeping all the way to his neck, realising he was totally just going to awkwardly stand at the door like a sore thumb.

The twins offered him a chocolate frog, and he took it hesitantly.

"Don't get your hopes up to find Dumbledore there." they snickered.

"Demoted from Chief Warlock position, that's one thing."

"But to take off the Frog rights!" They held their hands to the foreheads theatrically.

"That's the lowest blow!"

Neville looked from one to another, and then at Harry who seemed to be completely untroubled. Neville himself wasn't sure what to think about the recent events. After Malfoys were appointed as new magical guardians for Harry Potter, it was like a dam broke.

Dumbledore fell under investigation, his position as Chief Warlock suspended at first. Then began a series of Daily Prophet articles focusing on his past, some unbelievable, most likely exaggerated speculation, all written by Rita Skeeter. Certainly all of it didn't help with Dumbledore's public image and by the time the hearing against him rolled around there were almost no chances for him to win. He was demoted from the post of Chief Warlock and now apparently even chocolate frogs didn't want anything to do with him.

At least he was still a headmaster. Neville didn't know what rumours to believe, he was never good at seeing the bigger political picture, simply listening to what his Grandmother had to say. But it was good that some things at Hogwarts still remained unchanged. After the abrupt departure of Professor Quirrell, the remaining Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were taught by Professor Snape, who also supervised the exams. Which meant double the amount of terrifying hours for Neville.

Fortunately he could remember just enough material from Quirrell's lectures that he probably did fine at those. Potions though, he was sure he failed. He managed somehow to get by through classes once he paired up with Granger. The first time she was angry with him for ruining the potion and forbade touching anything ever since. Which didn't go unnoticed by Snape, but still helped to get through without losing points. On the exam though, they had to brew a potion individually and Snape basically tore into him for his incompetence. It wasn't the best experience.

He chanced another glance at Harry, whose expression now turned serious as he appraised the twins.

"Funny thing though," Harry started lightly, "How he kept suggesting who to be friends with."

George, at least Neville thought it was George, shook his head.

"You know we aren't talking to you just because Dumbledore encouraged us?"

"Did he, though?"

"Yeah… it was…"

"Hilarious?" Harry guessed.

"That too," There wasn't much humour in the tone anymore, the identical faces now also serious.

"But mostly it was awkward." Fred supplied.

"And embarrassing."

"You know, we won't be suddenly getting closer to you-"

"-just because some old geezer told us."

"Or because our Ronickins failed."

"That's just wrong." They nodded resolutely to convey the point.

Harry sighed. "Doesn't he realise how off-putting this is?"

The twins laughed at that.

"He's just scared that you'll slip from under his thumb."

"Ever since you got sorted into Slytherin."

"And even more so now."

Harry didn't laugh. "What made him think I was ever under his thumb?"

Fred chuckled, "I like this kid." as George leaned over to ruffle Harry's hair.

Harry swatted his hand. "What's his deal anyway? Does he call secret meetings to discuss my every move?"

The twins shared a look.

"You wouldn't believe how accurate that suggestion actually is."

"He'd be happy to learn your every little secret."

Harry titled his head contemplating, the silence stretched.

Neville didn't have the best memory but if reminded he could recall relevant stuff. And just now he was reminded of something.

"I had a similar conversation with Headmaster Dumbledore," he hesitantly supplied, his brows furrowing. Just remembering that brought a very disconcerting feeling.

Harry's full attention was now on him. He looked at Neville questioningly, so Neville elaborated.

"I didn't think much of it at the time. I thought he was concerned because…" Neville flushed feeling suddenly very exposed admitting it. "Because of my lack of friends in Gryffindor. I even thought…" he was now embarrassed, realising how weird this actually was after listening to what Harry and the twins had to say. "That it was nice of him to care so much about someone like me. And he suggested looking for friends in other Houses. He said that even Slytherin might surprise me."

"So he didn't outright suggest getting closer to me?"

"No," Neville shook his head. "But it was heavily implied? I guessed he saw us greeting each other or something at some point, and it was his way of encouraging me. I… did want to talk to you… before. I mean, before today." It was hard to admit, but he wanted Harry to understand. "It's just… I never could find the right moment."

"You don't have to find courage to talk to me, Neville." Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. "We are friends. Sorry if I made you feel otherwise."

Suddenly all the remaining anxiety dissipated, the twins giggled, wiping away non-existent tears and the atmosphere lightened up.

They shared some snacks and the ride was filled with chatter. Twins being twins joked around showcasing some of their new inventions. Neville didn't appreciate his skin turning blue, but he still found himself relaxing, and the effect wore off quickly, so it was actually fun in retrospect.

Harry was mostly silent.

"Just tired," he explained as he leaned at the back of the seat and closed his eyes for a moment longer than a blink.

"We should be going," Fred suggested, surprising Neville. He never really took the twins for a considerate type.

"Yeah, we'll catch up later." George added.

"Yeah, okay." Harry agreed, not stopping them. They still stopped midway.

"You should visit the Burrow sometime," Fred grinned.

"The Burrow?"

"Yep, our home." They beamed, looking proud.

"Very funny," Harry scoffed.

"How else are we going to catch up?" George whined.

Harry raised an eyebrow, "You are welcome to visit Malfoy Manor."

Now it was the twins' turn to scoff.

"Ah, man. I wish we could just go to some neural territory or something."

Fred tapped his chin, considering. Harry frowned, also thinking. Did he also want to catch up? Neville himself wouldn't mind. Waiting for the next term to start… He felt like he already went through his limit of postponing things. And wasn't he a Gryffindor?

"If…" he started and his voice came out too thin, so he coughed, bringing attention to himself. "If you would like, we could meet at mine? I think Grandmother won't be opposed." He recalled how in one of her letters she expressed concern over Harry's new guardians, so she might even be proud of him. There was silence, and he added unnecessarily, "If you don't mind."

The twins stared at him with the looks of epiphany.

"Will it only be us?" Harry wondered. "You won't invite other Weasleys?"

"No way!" Neville recoiled at the thought. "Ron and I," his lips thinned at the thought. "We aren't friends."

It was the light way to put it. Ever since Ron failed showing off during that flying lesson he blamed everything on Neville. Even though Neville never asked him to do anything. He honestly could just forget his Remembrall and deal with it like he usually does. But Ron had to play a hero and got punished for it. In turn, he took his anger out on Neville. He was angry at Draco and Harry too, but he couldn't do much to Slytherins. Within Gryffindor House Neville already wasn't the most popular one. He wasn't very confident and already a very easy target for ridicule, which Ron made all the easier. So, no, he didn't wish to see that particular Weasley any sooner than necessary. He was already apprehensive of the twins and only invited them because they were first to bring this up.

"That's brilliant then." Harry brightened up. And all the remaining doubts Neville had, finally vanished.

"Sounds great!" Fred and George exchanged a high five and snickered. "I bet Ronickins will be sooo jealous."


Once the twins left, the rest of the ride was quiet. Harry assured Neville that he could stay, the boy really didn't bother Harry much. It's not like they both couldn't just read their books.

At least that's what Harry tried to do. He held a book before his eyes not really seeing anything, only occasionally remembering to turn the page. If Neville noticed, he didn't say anything.

Harry frequently caught himself wishing to have a conversation, but such that would occur in low hisses with a tight weight coiling around his arm. There were several weeks since Voldemort and Nagini left so abruptly. It was a logical and reasonable move. Nothing for them to stay in Hogwarts for. Still, a sense of hollowness engulfed Harry ever since.

He was distracted by the exams at first, which went well enough, considering he had to fake through some spells with Parselmagic. In the House Cup, Slytherin came first beating Gryffindor by a small margin. There was a united sense of pride as they watched the Great Hall change into Slytherin colours. Most of the Gryffindors acted as if they attended a funeral which was all the more satisfying.

Harry wasn't opposed to furthering his friendship with the Weasley twins or Neville Longbottom if it could really be called as such. Even if Dumbledore was meddling, Harry wasn't about to frown upon building connections, if they were tolerable enough. And if the old man was being so insistent, Harry was willing to throw him a bone. He wasn't about to bring up important bits of information in a casual conversation anyway. And just as much insight Dumbledore could gain about Harry, the same Harry could gain about him.

The thing with Dumbledore already blew up out of proportion, something Harry couldn't predict his own action would cause. All Harry wanted was to get out of any official influence the man had over him. Now that Dumbledore had his own reputation to worry about, Harry hoped he wouldn't be so invested in Harry's life, at least for some foreseeable future.

The compartment door opened with a bang, which made Neville jump in his seat. Draco Malfoy walked in, only briefly shooting the boy a glance before turning full attention to Harry.

"We'll be at the station soon, Potter. Everyone will expect us to go together."

"Everyone might expect you to call me Harry too." Harry noted, not really minding either way.

Draco held his head high, "Someone must remind you of where you came from."

"Don't worry, I'll never forget."

"Hmph. Just get changed and meet me at the entrance."

"Sure." Harry rolled his eyes, not sensing any actual confrontation from Draco.

Lucius Malfoy talked to his son about the possible outcome of the hearing before it happened, and Draco was quick to admit he always wanted to have a brother. His excitement was evident, but then he randomly got irritated and prickly with the smallest things, as if to bring his own excitement down. He could also be pretty stubborn, and refusing to call him by the name was one of those things.

Everyone did expect at least something judging by the number of journalists roaming around the Platform 9¾. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were already waiting for Harry and Draco. Not breaking out of the public image they greeted them stiffly, and after dozens of photography shots were made in quick succession, apparated to Malfoy Manor.

Being back here brought Harry a sense of calm. While it wasn't particularly a feeling of getting back home, he was quite comfortable here the last time, and now he felt truly welcomed.

He was given a different room that wasn't in a guest wing this time, but in the family side of the Manor, close to Draco's room. It was just as luxurious but more spacious, with the added area for studying, practising the spells and brewing potions. Like with most pureblood houses, the Manor was protected from detecting underage use of magic.

Harry was allowed to decorate the room however he wanted. Dobby was all too happy to greet him and to offer his help in anything the young Master might need. Reinventing his new room to his liking occupied his mind and time for the rest of the day. If he made several hissed comments during the process, there was no one to call him out on that, and he himself pretended it never happened.

Settling into his own routine in Malfoy Manor was familiar to his winter break spent here. He was required to attend breakfasts and dinners, which was a time for family reunion of sorts, catching up on important matters and simply a tradition. The rest of the day he was mostly left to his own devices.

Three days a week were dedicated to dancing practice. As her way to spend more time with them, Narcissa herself taught both him and Draco, who was more skilled than Harry. The boy didn't seem to enjoy the dancing in itself, but he found the lessons more bearable with Harry around, now that he could show off to somebody. Occasionally, his insight was actually useful and since they were both of similar height, it made for an easier practice for Harry as well.

He still spent afternoon teas with Narcissa, finding them most enjoyable. Narcissa provided useful information on social intricacies, etiquette, and politics. While she wasn't in the political spotlight herself, she knew the subtleties of behind the scenes approach, which she excelled at. Even with the recent hearing concerning Harry's guardianship, she was supposed to be at the centre of attention as the official guardian. The right only extended to Lucius through marriage. Yet, all the papers ever talked and speculated about was Lucius' past and career, either set on digging dirt on him, or praising his achievements. Not that there was any dirt to be found on Narcissa, since she never publicly involved herself in anything directly, and that was precisely the point. She still had her own intuition, opinions, and ideas on matters decided through Wizengamot. She didn't sit in court as a member, but all she ever had to do was lift a finger, and Lucius was there to do all the work.

Some articles mulled over her Black heritage, recounting their crimes and questionable past, but yet again it all came down to her being an exemplary daughter just as she was now a respectable wife. They couldn't hold her responsible for anything other Blacks did, because it would mean to cast a shadow on Harry Potter as well.

Other magazines took a different approach, highlighting Narcissa's impeccable sense of fashion, which she was always known for. Riding on popularity, they practically made her into an icon, starting new trends of reimagining her previous appearances at countless balls, making suggestions for more affordable garments and advertising new listings anyone could order. Harry himself gained a few mentions and compliments in such magazines, also becoming an object of inspiration. They both took it in good humour, and Harry appreciated being known for something he actually remembered doing, for a change.


Narcissa looked at Harry over the cup of tea, her gaze gentle but searching.

"Harry, would you like me to do something with your hair?"

Harry paused, his cup of tea stopped mid-air. He hadn't thought about it, really. Since he accepted the independent behaviour of his hair, he didn't try to research magical means to tame it, and he also grew to enjoy the contrast it gave his look. He had a particularly painful flashback about Petunia dragging him by the hair to cut it off, but Narcissa's suggestion wasn't degrading. She just saw a potential to improve his appearance, and she was very calm about it, only a glint in her eyes indicating that she would enjoy tempering Harry's hair. He could admit, he was also curious to see how this worked.

"I guess," he said and Narcissa stood up, motioning for Harry to follow. She led him into her personal study. It was a very simple room with a desk, bookshelf, and a comfortable looking sitting area. At one side there was also a large mirror and a small table with a cabinet, that held a variety of stuff, including some neatly placed vials of mysterious contents.

Narcissa nudged Harry to sit in front of the mirror and gently carded her fingers through Harry's hair. She took a comb spelled to untangle knots and started brushing his hair. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

"Draco never lets me do this anymore," she complained while threading through Harry's locks. "And he has such beautiful hair."

Has he? Harry didn't notice, perhaps it was a mother thing. Harry simply hummed, closing his eyes and relaxing. He didn't mind this sort of attention, it was the closest thing to motherly affection he ever had. For some reason an image of Nagini flashed in his mind, but he quickly forced it away.

When Harry opened his eyes, he noticed that Narcissa's sleeves slipped down, revealing a faded but still clearly visible snake emerging from a skull on her left forearm. The Dark Mark. Even in its dimmed shade it made for a stark contrast to Narcissa's light skin. Harry watched it through the mirror with rapt attention and when Narcissa noticed, she paused her movements.

"You are a clever boy, Harry." She said non-committally, meeting his eyes in the mirror. They haven't outright discussed alliances but of course she was aware through Lucius, that Harry wasn't clueless or unsupportive. It was the first time she expressed any opinion on the matter. She also didn't look like she'd prefer to disregard it now.

Harry saw an opening and wondered, "How was it?"

He struggled to elaborate, so Narcissa did it for him. "Serving the Dark Lord?"

Harry inclined his head in confirmation. Narcissa resumed whatever she was doing with his hair and after several caring strokes, she seemed to find the right words.

"He was magnificent. The most powerful wizard I ever had the privilege to meet. He wasn't the kindest, but it's not kindness we served him for."

She put the comb down and took one of the vials, spraying a bit of potion on Harry's hair, massaging it into his scalp and spreading over the hair length.

"Do you know why he wanted to kill me?"

Without missing a beat, she shook her head.

"It seemed important, but no one knew. You must understand that in the latest years he wasn't quite himself."

"How so?" Nagini might have mentioned something like this, but it was still a new viewpoint for Harry.

"It was obvious that he was unreasonably consumed by anger. And madness. Not a spark of sanity remained in his vision. Most of us agreed, and fear became a constant. Some rejoiced with the change." Narcissa smiled humourlessly. "My sister Bella thrived, her own madness taking a stronger hold of her. But he wasn't the Lord we pledged our loyalties to anymore. In a way, we lost him even before he was defeated. And after he was, to an extent, it became a relief."

Narcissa spoke softly, there wasn't any regret or resentment in her voice, she simply wasn't a blind follower. Remembering his first meeting with Voldemort, Harry could see how such a state would pose a concern among even the most faithful Death Eaters.

"Do you believe he will return?" While Narcissa was the closest he could talk to freely, he still hasn't told her anything about his encounters with Voldemort. He couldn't, it wasn't his place to tell.

"The Mark is still here…" She took her wand and drew some circles with it over Harry's head. "And it's getting more visible as of recently. I only hope the one who returns will have at least a shadow of the Lord he once was. For all of our sake." She met Harry's eyes once more and then smiled at him, this time more cheerfully. "Now Harry, what do you think?"

He switched his attention to himself in the mirror and didn't quite recognise what he saw. His hair never looked so soft and pristine, it framed his face elegantly, but Harry wasn't sure he liked it this way. He was already used to his messy hair and now, while he liked to dress elegantly, this didn't look like him.

"Thank you, Narcissa, it looks lovely." he said nevertheless, because objectively it did. He didn't have to agree to another treatment anytime again.

"My pleasure, Harry." At least Narcissa was pleased, the corners of her eyes crinkled as she looked Harry over.

"What did you use?" He asked, motioning for the vials, genuinely interested to learn, and Narcissa gladly explained to him what the different hair potions were for. There were more vials in the cabinet, and she showed him different products used for the face as well. She seemed content to return to their usual more light-hearted focus in conversation.

"It's important to take care of yourself if you want to keep your youth and beauty."

"You look very young and beautiful, Narcissa," he replied with a smile. It was only the truth.

"What a charm," she patted Harry on the shoulder.

Harry proceeded to examine different vials, asking about the contents, they smelled nice, almost therapeutic. Despite the recent turn in their conversation, Harry wasn't thrown off by the thoughts he tried to avoid recently, fully immersed in the relaxing atmosphere that always persisted when he talked to Narcissa.

Suddenly Narcissa's face formed into a perplexed expression. "Nevermind, Harry." She laughed softly. "Seems like your hair truly has a mind of its own."

He peeked at the mirror and sure enough, some strands were already sticking out at random places, refusing to lie down despite all the treatment. He smirked.

Narcissa looked a bit disappointed and amazed at the same time. "It was supposed to last at least a day!"

Harry sighed and shrugged, "I prefer it that way." he admitted, there was nothing else he could do. As if in retribution Narcissa ruffled his hair further.


The next morning at breakfast Narcissa received a letter from Augusta Longbottom. It took Malfoys by surprise.

"What does she want?" Lucius asked cautiously.

"She expressed her desire to reacquaint herself with Harry Potter's new magical guardian. It's an invitation for a casual visit for me, Harry and Draco." She answered, reading further.

"I was actually expecting that." Harry found it necessary to admit. "We agreed on meeting with Neville Longbottom. George and Fred Weasley too." He added since that was probably also mentioned in the letter anyway.

"Indeed, it says they will be there too along with Mrs Weasley." Harry frowned, that wasn't exactly what he liked, but there was probably no other polite way to arrange this, the invitation included Draco as well, possibly for the same reason. The fact that Neville convinced his grandmother at all was already commendable. "And… Oh." Narcissa trailed off.

"What is it?" Lucius grew only more concerned.

"She suggests inviting Andromeda Tonks too, if I'm not opposed." Narcissa's voice became a tone quieter. "I… haven't seen my sister in ages."

Harry recalled Narcissa talking about her at some point. They were close while growing up but since Andromeda married a muggleborn, she was disowned from the family and basically banned from any pureblood social circles. It wasn't befitting of Narcissa to visit Tonks' household and Andromeda wouldn't agree to visit Malfoy Manor either. With years their paths only grew more apart. Once again, it seemed Longbottoms offered a neutral territory.

"You should go," Lucius said, there was warmth in his gaze as he looked at his wife. Narcissa's expression nearly crumbled, but she nodded before composing herself in mere seconds.

"Well then. I shall accept the suggestion and the invitation. Since that was basically Harry's idea he will attend as well." She glanced at him for confirmation, and he simply nodded. "Draco?"' She turned to her son.

Draco shrugged. "It's obvious they don't actually mean to invite me. And I don't really know them."

"You can always start somewhere." Harry commented. He was indifferent whether Draco went or not, but suspected that he didn't actually want to be left out, even though the prospect was to hang out with Gryffindors. Harry also hoped Draco outgrew his narrow-minded attitude. Extending connections to other Houses apart from Slytherin wasn't a pointless endeavour.

Draco opened his mouth for some clever retort, but then he seemed to realise something.

"Fred and George, you say? The Gryffindor beaters?" There was an apparent challenge in his eyes. "I'll agree to go if I can bring my broom." Leave it to Draco to reverse his attitude and make it sound like they actively sought his presence now.

Harry shrugged in acceptance. "I'll let them know to bring their brooms too then."

It probably wasn't a bad idea either. Despite agreeing to this meet up he didn't actually know what they'll do eventually. So having something on the list to occupy themselves with, put his mind at ease.


The ones who ended up playing two-on-two Quidditch were only Fred, George, Draco and Tonks, Andromeda Tonks' daughter. Her name was actually Nymphadora, but she insisted on just calling her Tonks. She finished Hogwarts last year and was the eldest in the group but acted as childishly as the twins, if not more. The three of them immediately hit it off. With her unique metamorphmagus abilities it was a show worthy of comedy stage. They eagerly discussed what pranks they could possibly pull off together and even attempted to try some right away only stopped by a horrified expression on Neville's face.

"My Grandmother will kill me." he said with such conviction that everyone believed him, and so the three of them calmed down, resorting to only theorising and cracking jokes. Everyone gradually relaxed in that atmosphere, including Neville. Even Draco seemed to find his own presence here not out of place, chuckling at a joke or two.

They were in Neville's room, which like the rest of Longbottom house wasn't as luxurious as Malfoy Manor, yet still evidently belonged to the old pureblood family. The adults settled in different rooms, giving space for children to do whatever they wanted, possibly relying on Tonks to keep an eye on them. That arrangement was to Harry's preference too, he wasn't looking forward to talking with Mrs Weasley and only briefly exchanged greetings with her before Augusta Longbottom prompted the ladies to have a chat over tea.

Narcissa and her sister greeted each other warmly. While Narcissa still held her mask, it seemed to have cracked the smallest amount and Harry had a feeling it won't hold much longer as the day progressed.

The topic of Quidditch was eventually brought up, Draco proposing a challenge. Tonks was excited about the prospect as well. While they could split into teams of three, neither Harry nor Neville expressed any enthusiasm. So the two of them found themselves lingering in the garden only distantly catching sight of four figures flying around. At some point the teams were formed with twins against each other as beaters and keepers, while Draco and Tonks competed as seekers.

The garden was beautiful with an assortment of various flowers and herbs. Neville mentioned he enjoyed taking care of it himself, and proceeded to point at some of his favourites, recounting their unique effects and properties.

"And you say you are bad at Potions?" Harry wondered after he listened to yet another enthusiastic mini-lecture.

Neville blinked. "Is that so surprising?"

"You have an excellent understanding of plant based ingredients. In itself it is already a profound foundation required for successful Potion brewing."

The boy clearly had a lot of potential, but it was as if he deliberately brought himself down.

"Oh." Neville looked unsure, hunching his shoulders. "What about non plant based?"

"You'll have to learn it." Harry didn't see the problem here.

"My memory is very bad, Harry."

Harry gave him a long look noting how the boy shifted nervously, so convinced there was no hope for him. For whatever reason Harry just couldn't accept it. The way Neville acted and held himself resonated with his earlier memories on a particularly wrong level. The time when Harry was so pathetic and hopeless, taking to heart the notion he was good for nothing. Coincidentally, he also liked his garden then, pretending flowers were his friends. If he never stopped believing in whatever lies Dursleys told him, if he never found it in himself to believe in himself instead, to lose his meek acceptance, to take his life in his own hands, who knew how similar to Neville he would be now.

Harry inwardly sighed.

"I'm not saying you have to memorise. Most of the time in learning you just have to understand, and the knowledge will stay with you. You just have to allow it to become a part of you. With careful following of the instructions you'll be able to make a decent potion."

"But professor Snape…" Neville looked at him with wide horrified eyes.

"You do realise that Potions as a subject and Potions as Professor Snape are completely different things?"

Neville's eyes became even bigger.

"I'm really no good, Harry." he mumbled.

Harry made a decision.

"That's it. Next year I'll partner up with you at Potions."

"But Harry…"

"It's not prohibited, right?"

"I don't think so…"

"So. I'm sure Goyle will be okay from now on. Even he managed to accomplish a decent potion. So no arguing, Neville."

Neville seemed inclined to disagree, doubt evident on his face, but in the end he meekly lowered his head. "Okay…"

Harry was almost under the impression he was bullying him, and was prepared to back off if his help was so thoroughly rejected, but then Neville looked up and there was hope in his eyes. He offered Harry a weak smile, "I will be looking forward to it, Harry."

Good.

"In the meantime, I'll send you some books. Make sure to read them over the summer." Seeing no objection from Neville, Harry still added to put more confidence into him. "They were incredibly helpful for me. You know, I had no prior knowledge of magic before Hogwarts, apart from some books I hastily read over summer." That was a bit underestimating, but it was still a point. He recalled how Nagini reassured him when he had his own doubts last year, so he added. "There is no such thing as becoming an expert out of nowhere. Sooner or later, you just have to start from the beginning."

Realisation dawned on Neville and determination settled on his features.

Walking out of the garden, Harry proceeded to explain in more detail how Herbology was interconnected with Potions. Growing the ingredients yourself and incorporating them in different recipes could be a tremendous strength in both subjects.

One thing led to another and some time after the others found Harry and Neville in the middle of arranging a cauldron in Neville's side study room. It was set out to keep various herbs and books but also could be used as a laboratory for potion brewing, which up until now Neville seemed to neglect. Harry meant to demonstrate some basics, so he could ease Neville into the idea that Potions weren't scary.

"Hey, you know we are supposed to have fun here, kiddo." Tonks observed. She was slightly breathless from all the flying around, in a similar vein as the rest of the group. Draco looked incredibly proud of himself, so he probably managed to win in catching the snitch. That would also explain Tonks' subdued mood, reflected in her greyish hair colour.

"This is fun." Harry defended, inspecting the ingredients they could use.

"Potions can be fun!" Fred agreed.

Draco narrowed his eyes at Neville who became slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah, if making explosions can be considered fun."

"Why the ever not?" George didn't seem to find anything wrong with the statement. "Oh, we should definitely try that idea." He leaned over the caldron to peek inside and beamed, finding it still empty. He wiggled his eyebrows at Tonks, who suddenly brightened along with her hair turning pink and nodded enthusiastically.

"Definitely." she agreed, her eyes flashing rainbows, but she didn't make a move to the station, just content to observe. She didn't seem excited about the potions itself after all. Harry stood back, tugging Neville along. If the twins set their mind on something it's better to let them. Basics could always wait.

Fred hopped to his twin and without another word they started arranging ingredients and practically dancing around the caldron. At first glance the process looked wild and chaotic, as if they threw ingredients randomly and only were just lucky that nothing blew up. They did it in perfect sync and ease, which impressed Harry, and the more he observed, the more evident it was they knew what they were doing. Clearly, they were experienced and extremely talented.

Draco's expression was no less impressed, if only just slightly abashed. Neville was frozen in place, his face unreadable.

Finally, the concoction was ready, the twins cackled like maniacs pouring the bright pinkish-violet liquid into vials, and Harry wasn't sure if he even wanted to know what that was.

It was something to do with flowers growing on your head representing feelings. Harry resisted the urge to stare the twins down in disbelief.


As the end of July approached and Narcissa brought up the subject of the birthday party, Harry agreed just because he could. Somewhere at the back of his mind he still kept a mental list of things he never had. It wasn't a grand affair in any way, he only invited his year's Slytherins along with their parents, and he found a distraction welcome. Most of his days were filled with studying, reading, and further learning. He deliberately filled his time in a way that his mind would be occupied with something, lest his thoughts wander to things he had no control over.

The party was alright, he crossed it from his mental list with a mental shrug. A year ago he spent his birthday with Nagini in their usual routine, almost not acknowledging the date at all. Looking at the lively celebration surrounding him, happy faces, cheerful decorations, a pile of presents waiting for him, all the people gathered here just for him and a giant cake with twelve colourful candles, Harry suddenly wished to have that instead, what he had a year ago.

He blew the candles with a long steady breath, cheers followed and Harry closed his eyes, banishing the thought away.

Nagini wasn't with him anymore, and there was no point in dwelling on it.

August didn't provide any more social distractions apart from his usual conversations with Narcissa, and sometimes Lucius. The man was busy with his own political aspirations, and despite things generally proceeding smoothly after his recent surge in popularity and additional Potter vote to exploit, some tension still remained. Dumbledore wasn't going down without a fight, and the relationship between Malfoys and Weasleys only worsened, despite the latter not having much political power at all. They still used some bold methods mostly relying on Lucius' reputation from the past, not allowing the gossip mill to forget any of it. Some people still strongly believed that Malfoys were just using Harry. At some point Lucius even expressed concern that they might actually organise a Ministry raid into Malfoy Manor. His influence was large in the Ministry, but it wasn't absolute, he certainly held fewer ties with the Auror Department.

Harry himself felt restless. Achieving his goal in securing a place for himself in a magical world, he didn't have any pressing projects anymore. He could just relax. But he couldn't. He finished his homework in no time, and proceeded to consume knowledge as there was nothing better to do. The Malfoy library seemed limitless and held a variety of topics he could delve in.

He brushed upon Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, figuring he might as well start ahead in deciding what electives to choose in the third year. Harry felt a bit betrayed upon discovering that Numerology was a part of Arithmancy, and it had nothing similar to muggle mathematics as he first assumed. He tried searching for the equivalent subject after that, but to his disappointment found none.

It always fascinated him how mathematics in principle was the language of science, and he was hoping to see what the language of magic might look like. Could it be even possible to describe magical laws, incantations, and rituals in a numerical way? To accumulate formulas and compress magic into a certain logic, that would allow for theoretical research, opening possibilities to create new forms of magic on paper. Harry held onto these thoughts and wrote them down into his notes for future evaluation. As Fred and George would put it, if something didn't exist it meant there was room for creation.

Since Arithmancy was just another form of Divination, Harry wasn't interested in it. He doubted the future could be correctly predicted, it would mean taking away the responsibility for one's own actions. If everything was written in stone, it meant no one had any control over anything. While there were many things happening outside of Harry's control, his life still changed the moment he made his own decisions for himself. If he relinquished even that to fate, then what would be left for him?

Ancient Runes proved to be a more fascinating subject, he even recognised some runes used in a contract ritual with Voldemort. He stared at the page unseeingly for some time before snapping the book shut.

He was spacing out again. He probably needed another distraction for a day.

Returning to his room, Harry found a letter from Neville he meant to write a reply to. After sending him the promised books Harry stressed that Neville was free to ask any questions. Partially, Harry didn't expect him to, thinking him too shy to bother anyone in this way. Largely, Harry wouldn't be bothered at all, he wanted to have things to do and focus on. Surprisingly, Neville actually started sending him questions on the parts he didn't understand, tentatively at first. But when he was sure Harry didn't mind, the list of questions only grew, sometimes followed by his own assumptions, and his thought process wasn't always wrong. Even if he made mistakes, it was still a progress, because it meant Neville was thinking, and not attempting to just memorise everything as before.

Keeping a correspondence as part of his routine proved to be a good distraction for Harry. He briefly wondered if he could possibly write a letter to Nagini.

The tip of the quill he was writing with broke with a snap, leaving a messy thread of ink.

Harry put the ruined parchment aside and took another one to start anew. He found another quill as well, yet the tip of it hovered over the parchment as Harry's mind reeled.

Parseltongue was a language, so it probably was possible to convert it into a written script. Even though, even if he could write a letter to Nagini, she won't be able to write him back, unless she asked her Master to do so. Harry doubted he would indulge in the notion. Technically, he could write a letter directly to Voldemort, and he won't have to search for a way to write in Parseltongue for that, but it was risky. Harry had no idea where they both were. While owls could find the recipient anywhere, they also could be easily intercepted. There was a reason Harry hadn't received a word from them as well. Not that he expected to.

No one owed him anything.

And yet.

Harry dipped the quill into the ink bottle with precision.

He knew he wasn't in any right to expect anything. There wasn't any agreement of such sort between them.

And yet. Strangely, Harry felt as if he had been abandoned again.

A drop of ink plopped on the parchment spreading into an ugly spot.

Harry blinked, putting the quill aside. He held his head in his hands, as a steady headache started building up.

He was hardly abandoned. And certainly not again. Where was this even coming from?

Determined to finish the letter Harry picked up the fresh parchment once more.


A week before the start of the new school year Malfoys planned a trip to Diagon Alley. There weren't as many new supplies second-years were required to buy. When he and Draco received their letters they both thought it must be a joke. Seven books by Gilderoy Lockhart? His popularity skyrocketed seemingly out of nowhere, even Daily Prophet sang him praises for his numerous brave adventures, pegging him a modern hero. When Harry stumbled upon one of his books in the library, at first he was curious, but after skimming through it, he was only baffled. There was hardly any useful information, the author recounted his adventures in a fictional manner and even provided illustrations, which were just pompous photos of himself. Harry immediately forgot all about it, never suspecting he'll be required to have seven of the sort.

Draco shared his sentiment so they both held the trip off until the last moment. Still Harry lingered looking through his wardrobe, contemplating what to wear for the outing. It made Draco roll his eyes, and now being impatient he urged his mother to go ahead reasoning that the sooner they go the sooner it will be over with. Harry rolled his eyes back, not truly disagreeing, and promising to meet up later.

They left and Harry shuffled through the robes some more, considering if he should buy something new to make the trip worthwhile, when he abruptly drew a sharp breath. The sensation was strong, stronger than he ever felt it. And there was no mistaking it.

Was Voldemort here? So suddenly, was he visiting Lucius without any warning? It was unlikely. He ought to summon his followers to him, not the other way around. But Harry couldn't possibly mistake that string of connection for anything. There was only one way to find out.

As if entranced, Harry followed the connection. It brought him to Lucius' study. Harry opened the door, forgetting to knock, coming face to face with Lucius, who jumped a little, startled. No one else was there, and yet the presence of Voldemort was almost tangible.

"Harry?" Lucius sounded tense.

"What are you doing, Lucius?" Harry asked sharply, almost accusatory, as his eyes zeroed in on the man's chest. Ignoring the confused counter question, Harry stepped closer. Almost automatically his hand went up to trace over Lucius' coat. There was something firm underneath, with a clear shape of a book.

Harry tapped it with a finger. "That. Is mine."

Immediately he snapped his hand back as if burned. It… wasn't.

Still, one thing was clear. Whatever it was, he had to take it for himself.

Lucius' eyes widened in pure shock. Before Malfoy could draw his own conclusions Harry pressed, coolly.

"This would be better left in my possession, Lucius." With a tone leaving no arguments.

Lucius seemed to be lost for words. Stiffly, almost mechanically, he reached inside his robe, fetching the book and handing it over to Harry.

Harry stared at it. Unmistakably, it was the source of the link he felt.

He looked back at Lucius, who watched him with something akin to terror and doubt in his eyes. Trying to convey there was no underlying threat in his tone, Harry assured. "Don't worry, I will keep it safe."

He relaxed his face into a smile, and turned to leave. In the doorway he paused. "Please relay my apologies to Narcissa, I am not feeling well for a trip after all."

Even if that sounded like an obvious excuse to avoid going, Harry trusted her to pick up a set of books for him regardless, and anyway it wasn't important. He could always go another day. Right now, there was something more critical he needed to investigate.

Not waiting for a reply, Harry strolled back to his room, shut the door and sat at the desk placing the little book in front of him. He could tell it was a muggle diary, and there was a faded name T. M. Riddle on the first page. Nothing else was written anywhere, the rest of the pages blank. He flipped through them several times not finding anything of the note. It looked old and well-used. By the smudged letters on the front it seemed like it was meant to be written in. It was clearly a diary. And just as clearly it was Voldemort.

Narrowing his eyes at it, Harry took out a quill and tried, "My name is Harry Potter."

For a moment the ink stayed in place, and then Harry watched as it slowly sipped through, leaving the page blank as before.

Another moment later the ink gradually reappeared, but with different words.

"Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle."