Disclaimer: I don't own any characters blah blah blah owned by JK Rowling blah blah blah don't sue me.
Summary: (From The Book of Terms And Their Definitions, page 101)
Avada Kedavra Wedding: noun, informal, see also: Avada Kedavra Marriage
An enforced or hurried wedding, due to one member being pregnant or under blackmail, potentially to gain access to another's vault(s) and/or properties.
(See also: Muggle Oxford English Dictionary, shotgun wedding/shotgun marriage)
A glass of water saved his life.
The Headmaster had dropped him off at the Weasleys after informing Harry that Sirius had left him almost everything in his will. He'd been given some soup by Mrs Weasley (who he still refused to call Molly), went to bed after overhearing the nickname Arthur called his wife, was woken up by his friends, informed of Fleur and Bill's engagement and had gotten his OWL results.
The following week was spent talking to his friends, helping Mrs Weasley and trying to diffuse both sides of the Fleur/Phlegm argument. Personally, Harry thought she was a competent witch who showed admirable courage in moving to a foreign country (that she didn't speak the language fluently) at nineteen to live with her fiancé's family, the majority of those that still lived there going out of their way to be horrible to her.
Since no one asked for his opinion, Harry didn't give it. He tried to bolster Fleur's spirits when he found her crying behind the chicken coup on Monday because Ginny had called her Phlegm to her face, letting her cry onto his shoulder while rubbing her back. He hoped he had succeeded, and pointedly avoided speaking to Ginny for the remainder of the week.
Despite living in a house with an adult witch, which would nullify the Trace since the Ministry couldn't be expected to respond whenever a parent magically washed the dishes near their Hogwarts-attending child, Harry wasn't allowed to use magic. To be fair to Mrs Weasley, neither were Hermione, Ron or Ginny, but still. He owned a house with a Fidelius charm on it; Trace or no Trace, any Ministry official who wanted to give out to him would need Professor Dumbledore to tell them where the house was.
That ban on using magic left Harry, a week after being dropped off at the Burrow, at 7:30 on Friday evening after spending most of the day in the room given to him, thirsty and unable to use the Aguamenti charm to fill the glass by his bedside.
He thought about asking Kreacher to get him one but decided he didn't want to deal with the elf's muttered insults this late in the day (or at all, honestly). Harry got off the bed, grabbed the nearby pair of fluffy socks (they were a guilty pleasure after he'd accidentally put on a pair belonging to Hermione) and tiptoed towards the door. He was grateful that the twins' Anti-Squeak charm on the door hinges was still in effect. He didn't want to accidentally get pulled into a conversation just because he was thirsty.
Harry passed Ron and Ginny's bedroom doors, both slightly open. Feeling playful, he decided to surprise them. After a quick trip back to the twins' room, he pulled the cloak over his head and (choosing to ignore Mrs Weasley's rule about magic for once) cast Silencio on his feet before carefully leaving.
He managed to make it down to the sitting room without knocking anything over, but his plan to prank the remaining Weasley children faded when he snuck into the kitchen and saw Mrs Weasley talking to Ron and Ginny. He turned to leave and give them privacy but was stopped when he overheard his name.
"... Harry could overthrow the Imperius curse at fourteen. They'll need to be very strong to make him fall in love with me," declared Ginny. Harry was frozen to the spot.
Mrs Weasley scoffed.
"I've brewed love potions before, missy. How do you think I managed to snag your father?"
"Why don't we buy them from Fred and George? They might be running a joke shop, but they sell love potions, and they passed their Potions OWL - an O, I believe - and it'll be cheaper than brewing it ourselves or hiring that bunch," whined Ron, as he pointed at a piece of parchment on the table. This time, it was Ginn- Ginevra's turn to scoff.
"Firstly, Fred and George (or whoever you buy your ingredients from, Mum) might become slightly suspicious if we buy a love potion or the ingredients for one, and then a few weeks later, Harry Potter starts declaring his undying love for me. Secondly, once I marry Potter, the amount of Galleons they're-" she gestured to the parchment "-charging will be a pittance compared to the amount I'll have access to. Thirdly, the person who brews their potions is a qualified Potions Master or Mistress - no one here is, and it would be best to enlist the service of an expert for this. Fourthly, if we buy their services, we also buy their silence and discretion. They'll be under a contract that won't allow them to tell anyone," explained Ginevra, sounding (in Harry's opinion) far too confident on how to ensure she got her hands on an effective love potion.
"Where did you find the leaflet," asked Ronald; he sounded unwillingly impressed.
"I grabbed Potter's cloak yesterday, called the Knight Bus, snuck on board, got off when it let a few witches off at the Leaky, snuck into Knockturn Alley and grabbed one from the counter at Borgin and Burkes. Then I grabbed a pinch of Floo powder in the Leaky, came home and put the cloak back exactly where I found it - Potter never even noticed it was gone," Ginevra declared smugly. Harry would have been impressed if it had been anyone else or for any other purpose. As it was, he was fuming.
"When the Headmaster dropped the boy over, he said to tell you that you can be as vicious as you want when it comes to killing him. The inconsiderate lout didn't permit the Order to use Grimmauld Place as Headquarters - despite the Headmaster's subtle hints - since the new ownership automatically invalidates the Fidelius," Mrs Weasley divulged gleefully.
(Harry silently snorted. The Headmaster had been about as subtle as the troll he'd taken on in first year - which was to say, not one bit. He'd only pretended not to understand out of lingering vexation at how the man had chosen to tell him the prophecy and continued insistence upon sending him back to the Dursleys. Now, he was glad for his fit of pique.)
"Good. It'll be practice for when the Light side takes over and is allowed to get rid of the Dark side for good. With the Headmaster using the boy's Wizengamot seats, gaining a majority will be easy. I don't particularly care that Professor Dumbledore wants political power - he's welcome to it, as long as we come out on top and much richer," declared Ginevra; Mrs Weasley and Ronald nodded or smirked in agreement, respectively.
He needed to see the piece of parchment and know what he was up against before deciding how he would react. Harry crept over to the table and whispered, "Geminio". When none of the Weasleys seemed to notice, his shoulders dropped with a silent, relieved sigh. He sidled over to the corner, checked once again that none of the Weasleys had seen him (they hadn't) and looked down.
(A.N: If you want to see the leaflet, the link is below, just delete the spaces:
https/ /www .instagram. com/p/CvMNwMJoxwr/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA=
)
Harry's blood burned through his veins as his fists clenched, crumbling the leaflet into a ball, no longer thirsty. Knowledge is power, and he'd just acquired power no one knew about (a small part of him wondered if that could be the "power the Dark Lord knows not"). He refused to stay somewhere that someone who wanted him dead had placed him, in a building where other people were planning how they would benefit from his murder. He'd make them all regret it.
Starting with a little bit of vandalism.
He snuck back to Fred and George's room and closed his door. Harry took his cloak off, bringing his finger to his lips as he looked at Hedwig, who understood the unspoken command. She tilted her head, cooing quietly.
"We're getting out of here," he declared, opening her cage, followed by the window, "I don't know where I'll spend the night, but even the Dursleys are better than here. At least they don't want to marry and kill me." He shuddered at that mental image before gesturing towards the window.
"Come find me tomorrow morning, but only if you're sure no one has hit you with a tracking charm or touched you," he ordered. Hedwig flew over his shoulder and preened his hair before flying out the window. Harry watched her fly until she was a speck in the distance, turned and cast Reducio on his trunk. After thinking for a few seconds, he cast it on Hedwig's cage, stowing both in his pockets. He glanced around the room, checking that he hadn't forgotten anything, when his eyes fell upon something in the room. Someone looking at him might have described the expression that crossed his face as gleeful.
Ten minutes later, everyone in the Burrow was startled by a high-pitched shriek, followed by explosions from the twins' former bedroom. When Molly Weasley wrenched open the door with her children, husband and Hermione standing behind, a cloud of pink and purple smoke emerged from the room, covering everyone and leaving them coughing.
It would be an hour before anyone realised that the wards Dumbledore had erected to protect the building were ripped to shreds.
(No one saw a boy with green eyes, black hair and a vengeful expression Apparate through wards specifically designed to contain him, breaking the wards and "accidentally" making the gag products produced by the twins last three times longer than they should have.)
When he was younger, Severus hated muggles.
His first experience with one was with his father. Alcoholic, abusive, shouting (and a few less polite adjectives) - Tobias Snape was no shining example of virtue. He was, however, a shining example of what not to do, to such an extent that Severus rarely drank (when he did, he limited himself to two bottles of Cobra), rarely started a fight (though he had no such compunction with finishing one), and rarely raised his voice.
His first successful interaction with a muggle didn't occur until the summer after his OWLs. Without Lily for company (no thanks to Potter. Despite what he'd probably told Lily, the arrogant boy knew Mudblood was what most pureblood or pureblood-leaning half-bloods called those that didn't think love potions should be banned - the blood having the consistency of mud when the victim was dosed with those vile concoctions), he spent more time in the library in Coventry. He conversed with some muggle about chemical reactions (who never gave his name) which sparked his curiosity. He'd devoured the entire section on Chemistry, branched out to Biology, and returned to the first NEWT Potions class with a greater understanding of how the body reacted to various substances. He'd even done a few night classes on the topics.
Severus had joined the one group with a plan to fight the love potions scourge. All that pish about "Death Eaters", "raids", and "Muggleborn haters" was propaganda made up by the "Light" to gain potential voters to maintain the status quo - Dumbledore had even tried to feed him a prophecy spouted by a quack about someone with "the power to vanquish the Dark Lord" (Tom had laughed himself hoarse when he'd heard it. The joke was on him, though - the others started calling him the "Dark Lord" after that. He would swear there was a dent in the table from how often Tom had banged his head into it after gaining his new honorific).
The leaflet portrayed them as the go-to for marrying someone who wasn't as willing. There were various options listed, each with their dedicated expert within Tom's group - Dolohov was wandpoint, the Lestranges were threatening, Barty was Imperio, and he was Amortentia. Each department head had other members of Tom's group under them, doing what they were told.
It was all a lie.
Tom noticed it was poor pure or half-bloods or muggleborns who used love potions or similar methods, while the victims were always wealthy pure or half-bloods. He'd gathered a group of like-minded people, brainstormed, anagrammed, and created a persona. Thus, Elvie was born.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
I Am Lord Voldemort.
L.V.
Elvie.
(Severus was quite proud of himself for that one.)
The intended victim, when told about how close they came to being drugged up to the gills and marrying someone they disliked, were quite willing to owe the group a debt in exchange for not being dosed with Amortentia/Imperio'd/held at wandpoint/ having their family threatened with death.
You see, most of the intended victims were rich.
Old money rich.
Which generally came with a seat on the Wizengamot.
Who could vote to approve or veto new or old laws.
And the group wanted love potions to be made illegal…
Severus thought it was ingenious.
No one got hurt; everyone won.
(Except for the perpetrators.
They got what was coming to them.
Followed by a compulsion to stay away from love potions.
Then they got an Obliviate.)
Severus was in the pub down the road from his house (The Golden Lion. The name was atrocious, though the drinks were acceptable) with a few friends, celebrating Pat's 36th birthday ("in a few months, 'Rus, it'll be your party!"). He was halfway through his first pint, while the rest were two to four pints in. He was just at the stage of loosening up, being more relaxed while not losing his intelligence to drunken mumblings (that would happen if he drank 3 pints).
"Wha' does Charles Dickens keep in his spice rack?" slurred Mick, blearily staring around the table. The others, as drunk as him, sat waiting for the punchline. Mike's jokes were rarely worth the wait.
"The best of thymes, the worst of thymes," the man declared, slapping the table as he burst out laughing. Pat grumbled and stood up, weaving across the pub towards the toilet. Keith shook his head in disgust while glancing across the table at Severus, who smirked as he raised the bottle to his mouth, leaning back against the wall.
The door was thrown open as a boy stumbled in, an angry expression on his face. He looked around but didn't seem to recognise anyone. Mike turned around to order another pint but was distracted by the stranger.
"Lad! Oi! Yes, you with the weird expression. C'mere, you look lost. C'mere - we don't bite. Sit down - JOHN! Cuppa tae for the lad! Put it on my tab! - What are you doing in this kip?"
"I didn't mean to come here. I just needed to get away from someo-where, and this was the first town I came across," the boy muttered, anger fading from his face as he accepted the drink from the barkeep with a "thanks". Severus caught the stumble but had enough tact to realise the boy didn't want to discuss whatever the issue was.
Keith didn't.
"Running away from home? Mummy not letting you see your girlfriend as much as you want?"
"Keith!" Severus snapped, glaring. "It's none of your business. I apologise for the drunk fool - the filter between his brain and mouth disappears when he is intoxicated."
The boy (black hair, light-coloured eyes, bespeckled, cute nose - stop right there! He's half your age!) waved away his apology, glaring at Keith.
"Mummy - and Daddy - died when I was a baby; I don't have a girlfriend, and I just found out that the person I considered my best mate wants me to marry his younger sister so they can access my finances before getting rid of me. Excuse me for wanting to get away from people who actively want me dead," he snarled.
Severus was impressed; the boy had almost looked like him at his angriest. Keith seemed to be in the mood for a fight; red-faced, he opened his mouth, but Mike thankfully interrupted whatever tirade was forthcoming.
"Keith. Go home. You can be a right arse when drunk; the lad here doesn't need a fight. Sleep it off," he ordered, showing the spirit he usually avoided. Keith looked around and, seeing no help from Pat (who'd slipped back into his seat after the tea was brought over) or Severus, he stood up, grumbling. Pat watched him stagger over to the door.
"I'll head off, make sure he gets home. Thanks for the party, and (turning to the unnamed boy) I hope everything works out." He left with a chorus of "G'night"s from the men and a "Thanks" from the boy.
"Get that int' ya, lad. You look half-frozen. So, that arse 'at left was Keith, and the man tha' followed him was Pat: he's firty-six today! I'm Mike, and tha' ugly mug there is Severus. Don't let his fancy words fool ya: he can curse wit' the 'est of 'em. (1) Ain't tha' right?"
"Just because I was fortunate enough to go to boarding school for seven years and you went to the local comprehensive, you seem to think that I think I'm better than you. You're wrong - I know I am," he drawled, the effect spoiled by his smirk. Mike crowed, more than used to his ways, but the boy squinted.
"It wasn't in Scotland, was it?"
His head whipped around, examining the boy with a new light. The silent wandless Legilimens, enough to skim his surface thoughts, was enough to see thoughts of wizard.
"It was. Is the Shrieking Shack still haunted?"
A trivial comment that, to an outsider, looked like a former pupil asking a current one if a particular school rumour still made the rounds. The boy, however, looked troubled.
"It turns out it was never haunted. The headmaster used to let his pet wolf out. Every full moon, it would make its way there and howl. He didn't want the board to know he had a wolf on the grounds, so he let the "haunted" rumours run wild," the boy muttered, a dark look crossing his face. He ignored Mike's comment about unusual pets and batty headmasters.
Pet wolf - full moon.
How had this boy learned about it?
"Remus Lupin, was it? The headmaster brought him onto the grounds the same year I started attending. The thing nearly savaged me in my third year - I almost died. Of course, the old man threatened to have me expelled for being out after curfew if I tried to go to the authorities. The mutt needed to be put down," he snarled, still angry about the incident over twenty years later.
"Tha's criminal! No wonder ya hate large dogs," Mike declared, looking concerned, the latest pint untouched. The boy snorted bitterly.
"Yes. Remus also nearly killed me and my… Well, former and current friend, during my third year, when the headmaster thought letting his pet out on the grounds would help protect the school from the criminal that had escaped from prison and apparently wanted to kill one of the students after being responsible for the kid becoming an orphan. It turns out the criminal was innocent all along - got locked away without a trial - and had escaped to kill the person responsible for the kid becoming an orphan. Someone my former friend's family had taken in unknowingly-"
Severus, a mixture of alcohol and shock, was finding it slightly challenging to tease out the meaning behind the boy's Muggle-friendly words.
"Look - sorry, I don't even know your name," he said, side-eyeing the boy. After a few moments' pause (he's either shaken by what happened, he feels he has to give a fake name, or he doesn't know if he can trust me yet.)
"Haralambos." (2)
"Were your parents a fan of Greek history," he commented, one eyebrow raised, and continued when the boy's response was a shrug, "I have a spare room. You can spend the night, have breakfast, and plan where you want to go next or who you want to talk to. It's just down the road, and you can use the shower. I'm sure I have something from my teenage years that's your size."
"Ha! Don't listen t'him, lad - if it's from his teenage years, it'll still be too big for ya," Mike declared, gently mocking Haralambos, who thankfully saw the funny side.
"I'll survive, thanks, Mike. I've worn clothes that were too big for me for a long time - what's one more night? You know what - fine, I'll take you up on that offer, Mr?"
"Snape, but you can call me Severus."
There it was. The twitch, the slight jerk of the shoulders - Haralambos had heard of him; he may have even been taught by him. Severus wondered what rumour had done the rounds around Hogwarts about him. Ah well, he'd find out soon.
"Right. Emm, Mike, thanks for the tea. I don't have any money with-"
"Would ya go away with tha'? I've lost more money down the back of the sofa. I hope everything works out for ya. G'night, and sure hopefully, I'll see you again at some stage," Mike replied, waving away the payment offer. Haralambos followed him out the door, to the left and left again, down a deserted alley.
"How's your response to Side-Along?" Severus inquired as he held out his arm, hoping he wasn't a vomiter. The boy shrugged.
"I might fall over, but that's about it," Haralambos replied as he grabbed the arm.
A few seconds later, the boy's knees almost buckled as they landed in the sitting room. Severus directed him towards the sofa, taking the chair opposite after he lit the fire.
"Now that we're alone, I know you've heard of me. Would you tell me what's happened at Hogwarts since I left and what rumour is going around Hogwarts about me? Don't worry - I won't be mad at you if it's bad or otherwise. Don't shoot the messenger and all that," he stated, trying for humour to ease the situation. The boy snorted before silently collecting his thoughts. He let him, using the opportunity to study Haralambos. He looked familiar (maybe he had taught him), but he knew he'd never met or heard of anyone called Haralambos (outside of one of Binns' lectures when he'd been a student).
"I was a few months into my first year when you left. There were a lot of rumours, but the one I chose to believe (based on it being the most realistic) was that you and Dumbledore argued, couldn't come to an agreement, and were either fired or left willingly," the boy said, peeking over at Severus.
"That is… surprisingly accurate for a school rumour. In short, Dumbledore and I are on opposite sides of the illegality or legality of love potions political divide. To bolster support for his side, he called those who wanted love potions to be made illegal Death Eaters; made them out to be magical terrorists. He made up a whole story about it to gain popularity."
"The problem is that he began to believe in his own lies over time. He even made up a "prophecy" to try and divert the leader of the party's attention. It didn't work. When I went to work as Potions Master, his delusion compounded to make me a "spy" for the "Order" against the "Death Eaters". I didn't like the man, so I kept my head down and mouth shut. One day, I overheard the then-DADA Professor, Quirrel, talking to himself, planning to give a student a love potion and run away with them. Horrified, I rushed to Dumbledore's office, told him what I'd overheard, put the memory of the incident into the Pensieve in his office, watched him stick his head in, and waited for him to fire the man."
"Which didn't happen," stated the boy, a captive audience.
"Which didn't happen," Severus agreed, "quite the opposite. He spouted off about how a man called Voldemort possessed Quirrell. He wanted the Philosopher's Stone to return to life, and Harry Potter needed to defeat him. I called him delusional and told him if he wouldn't do anything about it, I would. The next thing I remember was waking up outside Hogwarts, my contract torn and lying on my chest. I tried to get back inside, but the wards wouldn't let me back in. I gave up after twelve hours and left, but not before setting up a charm that would alert me when he left Hogwarts. It went off a few months later. I watched Quirrel be escorted off the grounds by McGonagall, with Dumbledore protesting the whole time. Once they were out of sight, I Transfigured Quirrel into a bone, found a hungry dog near the Golden Lion, and fed him to the dog."
"Professor McGonagall found him naked in his classroom, trying to rape… Harry Potter. The Headmaster didn't want to fire him for some reason (which I now know), but the four Heads went behind his back to get the Board involved. They fired him, gave the Headmaster a warning, and hired Gilderoy Lockhart on Dumbledore's suggestion, reasoning that a celebrity would be caught faster than a non-entity in the event of any wrongdoing."
"Somehow, Dumbledore had managed to get ahold of the diary of a boy called Tom Marvolo Riddle. I don't know what he was expecting, but Lockhart made copies of it, gave them to everyone, and told everyone to write an essay about differences in the Hogwarts education system based on information taken from the diary."
"I doubt Dumbledore was pleased," Severus stated, slightly gleeful at how that could backfire on the man.
"No, he wasn't. Everyone noticed there were a lot of classes Riddle mentioned that weren't offered anymore - he got a lot of complaints. There was also a girl, Ginerva Weasley, who fancied herself in love with Tom; she used to write "Mrs Ginny Riddle" on scraps of parchment and draw hearts around it. She even wrote to the diary, convinced Tom was writing back to her," Haralambos said, shuddering.
"What? There's no such thing as writing to someone in the past from the future!"
"I know. Her friends tried to tell her, but she remained convinced. She was half right - someone was writing back to her, but it wasn't Riddle. It was Dumbledore. He had put a charm on the original diary, which was carried across to the copies, that would alert him if anyone wrote to Mr Riddle (two others did, but stopped when his handwriting appeared). I heard that Dumbledore was trying to get the girl to open something called the Chamber of Secrets."
"...That's a myth," Severus stated, shocked and worried by how far the man had fallen into his delusions. Regardless of how satisfying it was to hear, he couldn't help but fear what the man would do with no inhibitions.
"I know. No one had even talked about it until over fifty years previously when a girl called Myrtle died after slipping while in the bathroom. One of the Professors suggested it was the result of the "monster residing in the Chamber of Secrets" and blamed Tom Riddle for opening it. There was a short investigation, the death was declared accidental, and the Professor had to pay a small fine for defamation of character, which Mr Riddle received. One guess who that Professor was," Haralambos declared ironically, "Coincidentally, Professor Lockhart somehow ended up being Obliviated. He was well-liked - a bit heavy on the theory, but he could take the piss out of himself, and wasn't too bad to look at." The boy laughed at the memory.
"We already covered your third year - how did Dumbledore last so long as Headmaster?"
"He was suspended for a few months at the beginning of third year due to the diary debacle and pleaded ignorance at the end of third year. He tried to arrange the Triwizard Tournament in Hogwarts but didn't get the necessary permits. Instead, there was a House Tournament - same general idea, though. It was supposed to be only seventh years allowed to compete, but m-r Potter's name was chosen for Gryffindor. He refused to compete, they chose someone else (despite the Headmaster's protests), and Mr Diggory won in the end, getting a prize fund of 1000G."
"In fifth year, the Ministry was getting fed up with Dumbledore's Delusions - they even ran a few articles in the Daily Prophet, did you read it?" Haralambos asked. Severus nodded.
"Well, his groupies weren't happy - the Weasleys, Ms Granger, and members of his political party, the "Order". The Ministry sent someone to watch him, taking the Defense post. She was very heavy on the theory and too fond of pink. Still, if you had a question about something else, she'd answer or point you toward a book or person she thought could answer your question. To be fair, she wasn't the worst by a long shot."
"She was neither loved nor hated," Severus guessed, receiving a nod followed by a smile and a head shake.
"The students mostly didn't mind her, apart from those who thought Dumbledore was the second coming. The man himself hated her - she gave Ronald Weasley a detention for talking back to her and made him write lines for an hour. He returned with a scratch from an encounter with a stray cat, and Dumbledore tried to get her arrested for using a Blood Quill. No one believed him, but, to be fair to her, Professor Umbridge brought in two Aurors to conduct the enquiry (one of them was a member of Dumbledore's party, so he'd have to be satisfied with the results). The claims were dismissed within an hour, and the man was voted out of being Britain's representative on the ICW, which also cost him his title as Supreme Mugwump," Haralambos reminisced, laughing softly.
"What happened to the woman? Did she last long after that?" Severus inquired, though he'd already guessed the answer.
"She managed to have a run-in with the centaurs, according to Dumbledore. No one was allowed to see her; any "Get Well Soon" cards were returned unopened. At the end of the year, Dumbledore, some of his party and a few of the students broke into the Department of Mysteries -"
"That was all over the Prophet; the children were fined, and the adults (a few Aurors among them) were put in Azkaban for a month. I can't remember Dumbledore's sentence."
"5000G fine, a month in Azkaban and his title of Chief Warlock taken off him - the last was due to his insistence that someone wanted to steal a prophecy about the Dark Lord. When the Head Unspeakable vowed that no such prophecy existed, the Ministry lost all patience with him. I heard Fudge took great pleasure in handing down his punishment."
Severus examined the boy closely. He seemed relaxed, curled up on the sofa, no longer huddled at the end nearest the fire. A rosy glow lit his cheeks, though the boy sounded slightly hoarse from all the talking. He waved his wand, summoning a cup and filling it with tea before offering it to Haralambos, who accepted. The smile, though slight, made his appearance seem almost Fae-like.
(He looks beau-
No. Not going there.)
He stood abruptly, startling the boy slightly.
"I'll show you to the spare room," Severus declared, walking over to his bookshelf. He pulled Romeo and Juliet out, waited for the stairs to be revealed (allowing himself a brief quirk of his mouth at the "Wow" that got) and marched up them. When they reached the first floor (3), he saw his guest take a quick peek, though there was nothing to see: one door on the left, right and end of the short corridor.
"Please don't enter my room" (he pointed at the door furthest from them). "Use the bathroom" (he pointed at the door on the left) "whenever you want, as long as the door isn't locked. You can sleep here" (he gestured to the door on the right) "for as long as needed. I don't know what your situation was like at home, but while you're staying with me, any spells cast here won't be detected by the Ministry: they'll assume I cast them," Severus whispered conspiringly, smirking at the look of glee on Haralambos' face.
"Thanks!"
"Don't mention it. Good night."
"Night."
He'd thought the jig would be up when he realised Severus was a wizard. Harry thought the man would realise who he was instantly, go back to the snarly, impatient, Potter-hating Professor he'd been almost five years ago.
He soon realised that the man, while a brilliant Potions Master (he'd watched the man brew three different potions at once without making a single mistake), didn't read any article the Daily Prophet printed about the "Boy Who Lived", didn't know what he looked like, and didn't want to know either.
Hedwig enjoyed the freedom she gained from their new residence, coming and going as desired. She'd taken to Severus, letting him stroke her feathers if he was nearby. He'd made the man breakfast the first morning. The look of appreciative surprise on his face after the first bite was one Harry would cherish, as it was the first compliment he'd received about his cooking abilities. He'd also cleaned some of the grime out of the house, shutting down Severus' protests.
In response, after catching sight of his attempt at starting the Potions essay, Severus had snorted, pulled up a chair, and proceeded to explain the points in a way Harry found much easier to understand. He'd also watched him brew the Draught of Living Death, offering constructive criticism, and had brushed his compliments away.
"I love Potions but hated teaching it. I'd hoped to inspire students and get them passionate about the topic. Unfortunately, they didn't want to be passionate. Some were downright disrespectful. As I grew more bitter, so did my hatred of being a Professor, and I'd lose my temper more. Towards the end, I didn't know the person I was becoming. In that sense, it was a relief to be kicked out of Hogwarts," he'd explained with a slight air of melancholy.
"Well, I think you're better than Professor Slughorn," Harry had declared. The man had snorted.
"Not a very high bar to reach," he'd muttered, a light blush visible on his cheeks.
Harry had flourished with three square meals, putting on a few much-needed pounds. As his health had improved (helped along with a few potions that the man had handed to him - "Nutritive, Healing and Appetite Enhancing potions."), so had his self-confidence. He'd gone to Gringotts a week after he'd (temporarily) moved in under his Invisibility Cloak, took out enough Galleons to cover his school supplies and a bit extra, exchanged some more for pounds, and had an enjoyable time shopping in Primark, buying clothes that actually fit him. Seeing the number of bags on his arms when he'd walked in, Severus' only comment was a raised eyebrow.
After he'd started wearing them, things had… changed. Severus had almost choked on his tea the first time Harry walked into the kitchen wearing roughnecks and a fitted turtleneck. After that, he'd often noticed the man's gaze lingering on him. He'd also started standing closer - reaching over his shoulder to hold his hand when demonstrating a stirring technique; the man's hand trailing along his back when walking past. Nothing that flagrantly overstepped his boundaries, but it had taken him a while to realise why.
Harry was flattered. He'd realised the previous year that he preferred boys to girls. Hermione, when told, had been supportive but had agreed when he'd begged her not to tell Ron - he'd had the uncomfortable feeling it wouldn't go down too well with him based on a few comments his former friend had made. Severus may not have been the most classically handsome man, but neither was he. Most of the romantic attention he had gotten was probably from people who wanted to use his money/fame/both to benefit them. Since he was almost certain the man didn't realise who he was, he felt safe to… explore.
Throughout the summer holidays, they'd had a back-and-forth approach to flirting and touching. Harry often had to leave the room to… take care of himself (though he was pleased that Severus also had to a few times). He initiated their first kiss, though the man had quickly taken control once he'd realised how inexperienced he was. Kissing on the mouth led to necking, touching and kissing the top half of their bodies. Frotting had occurred with a week to go until his return to Hogwarts, and he had been stunned to realise he wasn't looking forward to returning.
He'd lost his virginity to the man on the second last day of the holidays after they'd explored each other's bodies lazily. Severus had taken his time stretching him until Harry begged the man to "Do it now!" It had been slightly painful at first, but it had faded fast, and he'd been impressed with the man's staying power (Harry had come twice before the man had come once).
When he lost his virginity, it seemed to have unlocked something inside himself. Harry had woken Severus up with a preparatory blowjob before riding him; the man had been persuaded to pound into him in the shower; he'd tried yoga in the living room while naked, teasing Severus with provocative stretches… the Potions Master had to take a potion to keep up with him. After he'd packed all his things back into the trunk, they'd spent their last night in the master bedroom, languidly fucking before cuddling.
Harry walked down the stairs into the living room at 7:30, following his nose. He was surprised to see Severus plating breakfast, his trunk by the door where he'd left it the previous evening and something wrapped in brown paper lying on top.
"I normally do that," he noted, leaning over for a kiss.
"I know, but it's your last breakfast here, and I wanted to."
They sat down, not talking while eating, settling into their morning routine.
"I… Thank you. For taking me in, and - everything else."
He curled his lips into his version of a smile, then reached for and waved his wand, summoning the wrapped item.
"I hope you find it useful," the man declared, hands clenched in his lap. Harry looked at Severus for a while (he seemed unusually nervous) before his hands dug into the brown paper, ripping it quickly to uncover a textbook - an older version of the one he'd bought a few weeks ago. He blinked before looking up, confused.
"It's my old copy. I edited the recipes in my spare time when I was a student - the originals, while adequate, don't produce the same results as my alterations. If -," Severus faltered, losing his nerve slightly at his lack of reaction, "if you don't like it - mmmph!" He was interrupted when Harry jumped into his lap, kissing him passionately.
"This is brilliant! It'll be as if you're still with me, helping me! Thank you!" he exclaimed, beaming. Seeing how enthusiastically his gift was received, the man regained his confidence, petting his hair.
"I also dabbled in spell crafting when I was that age - some of them are in that book. Muffliato is a spell that allows you to talk while anyone attempting to eavesdrop only hears white noise. Langlock glues a person's tongue to the roof of their mouth, leaving them unable to talk - particularly useful in duels if the target isn't great at non-verbal casting. Levicorpus hoists the target into the air by their ankles, while the countercurse is Liberacorpus - they're the only two that need to be cast non-verbally. There's also a toenail-growing hex in there. The last two are a curse - Sectumsempra - and countercurse - Vulnera Sanentur, said thrice. Please don't use the curse except in dire circumstances - it acts like an invisible sword, leaving deep slashes and wounds; the victim could die due to heavy blood loss," Severus described.
"Why did you invent it if it was so bad?" Harry asked. Seeing the man tense defensively, he continued, "I'm not judging. Necessity is the mother of all inventions, after all. I'm just curious why you felt you needed to create it."
They sat silently for almost five minutes, one thinking, the other waiting. There was a sigh, then -
"I was bullied. In Hogwarts. There were four of them - it was always four versus one. The leaders - Potter and Black - were popular, liked by students and Professors. The other two - Lupin and Pettigrew - were more tagalongs. I had one friend - Lily. Potter wanted to date her and saw me as an obstacle. You name the spell, they cast it on me - though they stopped short of the Unforgivables. I needed something to…"
"Level the playing field?"
The silence spoke volumes. He leaned in and kissed the man, letting him know he didn't judge.
"I won't use the curse unless I think someone is trying to kill me," Harry compromised after disengaging: Severus nodded in acceptance. He looked for his wand, waved his hand when he couldn't see it, and cast a non-verbal Tempus (8:23).
"How long have you been able to do that?" the Potions Master asked, wide-eyed. He froze: he'd grown complacent, forgetting that his ability to cast wandlessly and non-verbally should be kept secret. The man noticed his panic, grabbing his hand.
"I just want you to be safe. There's a stigma attached to those who don't need a wand - that's why Hogwarts only teaches non-verbal casting. I don't care that you can - it would make me a hypocrite, and one of my… colleagues is also competent in the art."
Severus pulled him onto his lap, hands carding through his hair. It soothed him. Harry dozed for a while, time slipping away without his acknowledgement. When he sat up and cast another Tempus, he was shocked to see 9:45.
"I better go - I want to get the "How was your holiday?" interrogation over with," he declared, reluctant to move despite what he'd said. Unusually hesitant, the man's mouth opened and closed a few times.
"Can I write to you? When I'm in Hogwarts?" Harry blurted, "Not just for help with my Potions essay. I - I've enjoyed our time together."
"Me too," replied Severus, shoulders slumping slightly and yanking him down, pulling him tight against the man's body for another passionate kiss. Harry moaned, frotting against wherever he could reach. He came with a high-pitched whine, Severus groaning from his orgasm a few moments later. After recovering, the man waved his wand, cleaning the evidence from their trousers.
"Do you want me to accompany you to the platform?"
"As much as I'd love you to, I wouldn't be able to resist asking for one last thing to remember you, and my friends would ask questions if I couldn't sit still," Harry said. Severus snorted, conceding the point and giving him a considering look.
"No, not here either - otherwise, I won't want to leave, and the Ministry mightn't be too happy if I dropped out to have more time for you to fuck me."
So saying, he kissed the man for the final time, grabbed his trunk and wand, before Apparating away with a crack.
December
"You're looking well," was the first thing out of Lucius' mouth when he entered Severus' sitting room. His mouth curled upwards in response, amused at seeing so many sybarites (4) squashed into the cramped space.
"That's partly why I asked us to meet."
He sat down in his usual spot; Tom gestured for him to continue.
"I met someone a while ago, but I'm almost certain they gave me a fake name. He was worried - he'd overheard his now-former best friend plotting with his mother and younger sister to hire our "services" to make the boy fall in love with the sister so they could inherit his money. He told me his name was Haralambos - I've checked all the registries I can access to look for him, but there haven't been any British wizards born with that name in almost two hundred years. I'm not surprised at his caution (I'm impressed, actually), but I want to help him."
"I haven't heard of anyone with that name - anyone?" Tom inquired, voice raised to encompass everyone sitting. There was a brief pause, followed by a chorus of "No"s.
"Perhaps you could put a memory into my Pensieve, in case anyone recognises him? If he's used a Glamour charm, it'll be a waste of time, but it's worth a shot."
"Thank you," Severus responded, wand tip rising to his temples as Tom summoned his Pensieve. He placed the memory inside, then stepped to the side, allowing the others to look.
When they emerged, Severus' eyebrow rose at the looks most others gave him - a mixture of shock, slyness and amusement.
"I'm surprised you didn't recognise him, Severus - he does look so much like his father," drawled Lucius, mouth quirked in amusement (even as he had to hop over three sets of legs to return to his seat). Tom, ever the benevolent leader, continued upon seeing his continued confusion.
"You were right - Haralambos was a fake name. Maybe he will seem familiar once I tell you his name is Harry Potter."
Severus was glad he was seated - his legs wouldn't have been able to hold him if he were standing.
It made sense - how Haral- Harry seemed to know so much about the life of Harry Potter while not referring to himself by the name, the few almost-slips when he almost said "I" or "my", why the younger Weasley children and matriarch wanted to marry their daughter to take his money, the caution upon learning Severus was also a wizard, the odd twinge of I should know him he'd had intermittently.
At least he hadn't let Dumbledore's comments of "He looks and acts so much like his father" impact how he'd treated the child compared to his classmates. Upon seeing the child taking notes during the first class and his ability to not blow himself or others to kingdom come, Severus ignored him, giving the odd critique or compliment when necessary. From what he remembered, he'd been the calmest out of his friends - Ms Granger was a swot who wanted to make sure everyone knew that, and Mr Weasley would start fights and expect Harry to finish them -
"Merlin! I - you know - someone less than half my age, and I enjoyed it," Severus moaned, almost whispering the last part. There were a few winces from some of the others.
"If someone pays for our services regarding Mr Potter, we won't do our usual routine," Tom promised, "Have you been in contact with him?"
Despite his best efforts, a smile broke out across his face.
"He's pissed with his "friend" - he's been checking any food or presents the boy gave him for potions or compulsions. So far, there have been a few love potions and a compulsion to hate Slytherins. He's arranged to come over during the holidays, so I expect him anytime now…"
"Right, everyone, remember to attend the Wizengamot session in a month - there's a chance we could win if someone can persuade a few more of the Neutrals," Tom declared, catching his (blunt) hint. Everyone stood up: some Disapparated where they stood, a few shuffling over to the door, while the remaining few walked over to the fireplace.
"Were you expecting a call?" Evan Rosier asked, the first to get there. When Severus shook his head, he continued, "the fire was green a few seconds ago - someone from Hog's Head, apparently."
Severus shrugged, not expecting a Floo call from the Hog's Head. When the house was empty a minute later, he knelt before the fire. Grabbing a pinch of Floo powder, he was about to throw it into the fire but was stopped by the unexpected appearance of Harry Potter beside him as he took off an invisibility cloak. He looked good - he had gained some weight, and his face was flushed. His trousers were abruptly too tight in the front.
Unfortunately, he was stopped before he could suggest they get… reacquainted with each other.
Over the first few months of his sixth year at Hogwarts, when he was trying to avoid Ronald, Ginerva and Dumbledore while checking everything before he touched it for spells or potions, he fondly remembered his time with Severus.
They owled each other at least twice a week, asking about the other's day, talking about their work, exchanging ideas, and writing about what they would do to the other when they next saw each other (it was his new habit to wank in the bathroom over the contents of the letter).
Harry was delighted the man had given him his old textbook. Not only were the tips helping his understanding of potions (his marks had never been higher), but reading the remarks and notations, it was almost like he could hear Severus' voice. He loved the biting wit and the sarcastic comments within the book.
He noticed he was gaining some weight in November, which was surprising as it coincided with a period of regular vomiting. Stumped once he'd ascertained he wasn't being poisoned, he was set on the right track by the title of a book he'd accidentally picked out of the library.
What To Expect When You're An Expectant Wizard. (5)
Not having realised wizards could become pregnant, Harry poured over the book. When he'd cast the charm in the book to check, he was pleasedshockedconfused when it came back positive.
(At least Amortentia wouldn't work if Ginny hired that group.)
(He's sixteen and doesn't even have a home to return to.)
(What if he went into labour in Hogwarts?)
(What if Dumbledore took his baby?)
(What if Severus didn't want anything to do with him or the child?)
After an hour, he managed to calm himself, deciding to tell Severus when they next saw each other - it wasn't the type of news Harry felt comfortable disclosing through a letter.
In the following letter, he asked if he could visit over Christmas; thankfully, the man agreed. Trying to decide how to get out of Hogwarts while lessening the chances of Dumbledore, Ronald or Ginerva finding out and trying to stop him took some time, but he eventually decided to use his cloak to get into the Hog's Head and Floo to the man's house.
The day of his escape from Hogwarts (two days into the holiday - enough time for the gold/power diggers to think he was staying, while not close enough to Christmas day for them to pay extra attention to him) was warmer than the previous one. Harry didn't want anyone to be suspicious, so he only put his cloak, wand and a few Galleons into his pocket. Hand absentmindedly stroking his slight bump, he smiled as he snuck out of the castle.
He entered the Hog's Head pub without any issue and, after a quick check to see if anyone was heading for the fireplace, quickly grabbed a pinch of Floo powder.
Luckily, no one was looking at the fireplace when Harry exited the fireplace in Severus' house. He was surprised at the large number of wizards gathered in the sitting room - in all the time he'd been there during the summer, the man hadn't had a single friend or guest over - and he was heading to the kitchen to give them privacy (and surprise Severus) when he heard his name.
Eavesdropping, he realised the man he'd lost his virginity to, the father of his child, was part of the group that the younger Weasley children and matriarch had been contemplating hiring to ensure Harry married Ginerva. For all he knew, Severus would be brewing the Amortentia they wanted to use.
Somehow, Harry had managed to wait until he was alone with Severus before he took off his cloak.
"Care to explain to me what is happening?" he snarled. Severus rose from his crouch in front of the fireplace, the movement only making his erection evident. Harry cursed his hormones as the sight made his cock hard almost instantly.
"What did you hear? I can assure you, if you think I'm planning on letting those Weasleys even think they have a chance-"
"You just asked your boss to not dose me! What am I, your concubine? To be kept around for when you want a convenient hole to fuck?"
"What? No! That's not-" The man paused, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. "You aren't going to believe anything I say right now, are you?"
It was a rhetorical question; Harry's crossed arms and thunderous expression were answer enough.
"How about Veritaserum? You can ask whatever you want, safe knowing that any answer I give you is the truth," the man suggested calmly.
"How do I know that you're actually drinking it? You could be putting water in your mouth instead," Harry declared, unimpressed. He also felt disconcerted: he'd been building up to a right old argument, and the wind was taken out of his sails after the man's reasonable suggestion.
Part of him was sulking due to not getting the argument he'd wanted.
Another wanted to hear the man out, to be convinced.
The rest of him just wanted Severus' cock up his arse.
"Ask me a question - or a series of questions - that are embarrassing, or you think I wouldn't want to answer truthfully. If I don't answer or don't give enough detail, you know I drank three drops of water. If I babble incessantly, then it's Veritaserum in the vial. Ok?" Severus suggested.
Harry thought about it for a while, absently rubbing his slight bulge, missing the man's gaze examining his stomach, brow furrowed. Eventually, he nodded. The Potions Master disappeared downstairs for a minute, returning with a vial of Veritaserum (or water).
He pulled the stopper out, handed it to Harry and sat down on the chair, mouth gaping.
"Try and lie," he ordered, not allowing Severus to ask questions before he squeezed three drops into the man's mouth. Almost immediately, his face slackened.
"What's two plus two?"
One second… two sec-
"Four," the man replied in a monotonous voice. Harry wasn't entirely convinced, but some of the apprehension had vanished.
"What was the one embarrassing thing that happened to a friend whom, if they find out you told me, would try and kill you for revealing their secret?" he enquired; he had thought of asking what the most embarrassing thing to happen to Severus but had second thoughts, thinking the man might not be too happy if someone else knew one of his embarrassing secrets. He'd probably find it easier to tell someone else's secret (even if there was a payback risk).
One secon-
"When Narcissa Malfoy née Black was pregnant, but before she'd told Lucius, he offended her when he suggested she go on a diet because she'd gained a few pounds. She was furious and ordered the house elves to serve him hot food if he asked for cold, and visa versa; she shrunk all his clothes by five sizes (she refused to resize them, and he had to throw them out), swapped his favourite cologne for Erumpent Musk the day he was launching the new Erumpent exhibit at the London Magical Zoo, and hexed him bald using a Black family spell. He bought her a villa in France in apology; when she finally revealed she was pregnant, he fainted," described Severus, voice still monotonous. Harry was almost convinced, but he wanted to ask the man one last question (for himself, more so than anything).
"What was your favourite position to fuck me?"
One s-
"I love it when you ride me. I can see the pleasure on your face, the shudder you make when you change your angle so my cock nails your prostate, the feel of your arse clenching around my cock, the sounds you made when you were about to come," was the response. He was convinced at this point (and turned on - Severus' voice and dirty talk were a wicked combination) that it was Veritaserum rather than water.
He breathed, thought of how to phrase his first question, and opened his mouth.
By the time the Veritaserum ran out, Harry had learned about the political party's plan to pretend to offer love potions to those that wanted it (anyone who owled requesting any of the other "services" were visited by one of the party members and were Obliviated, removing the leaflet and its' contents from their minds), how they actually told the intended victim who wanted them dosed with potions and (if they were on the Wizengamot) only asked that the person would vote the way they wished on one vote, with the additional votes being saved for when they thought they had a sufficient majority to push through the Bill to make love potions illegal.
However, if the perpetrator(s) were on the Wizengamot, they were also blackmailed into being the party's (which, despite Dumbledore's efforts to make them known as Death Eaters, was actually registered as the Knights of Walpurgis) permanent extra voter.
Whether the perpetrators were or weren't on the Wizengamot, any correspondence between them was saved as future evidence for when buying or attempting to buy love potions was illegal. It was a lot for Harry to take in all at once, and he was silent for almost half an hour after Severus had finished talking.
At last, he looked at the man, who could almost hide his anxiety.
"I'm sorry," they blurted, unintentionally echoing each other.
"I should have told you sooner - I knew you thought the party would be involved in dosing you with Amortentia, but I honestly didn't think you'd stay longer than a night or two. Then, the longer you stayed and the more our relationship formed from platonic to sexual (and potentially romantic, if I haven't made a mess of things), I didn't want to ruin it. I hoped you… just wouldn't find out. I hope you can forgive me," Severus explained, looking at the floor.
"I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions before hearing your side - the mood swings have hit me hard. I'd really like it if we could make a go at things," Harry declared, hand rising unconsciously to rub his stomach, an action that didn't pass unnoticed.
"Mood swings?"
Harry paused, looking guiltily over at the man.
"Err… pretend you didn't hear that?"
Severus, unphased, continued looking at him, his eyebrow rising.
"Riiight. So… how do I put this? Emm-"
"Potter! Say it, whatever it is! It can't be-"
"You're going to be a father!"
Silence.
For almost a minute.
Harry thought he could hear someone yelling from the end of the street.
"What?" asked Severus, who was almost pale enough to be mistaken for a corpse.
"I'm pregnant," he declared softly, hand deliberately moving towards his stomach.
The man blinked.
Opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then…
Thump!
Fainted dead away.
Well, Harry thought, rushing over to make sure Severus hadn't accidentally injured himself; that could have gone worse.
December 1997
Tom Riddle held his godson in his arms, watching as his Knights began to sit at the table, waiting for dinner.
It had been a great year, helped along (surprisingly) by Dumbledore.
If he hadn't tried to get his grubby mitts on the Potter Wizengamot seats, he mused, glancing down at Osman (6), aware of the boy's overprotective parents keeping a close eye on them.
After Severus had come to a meeting accompanied by a young man he'd introduced as the carrier of his child and potentially the last few votes needed to get their Bill approved, he'd all but jumped for joy. In the remaining few days before Harry had to return to Hogwarts, all the Knights had chipped in to provide him with protective enchantments, spells to conceal his growing bump when in Hogwarts, clothes, food, toys and furniture for the baby (Lucius asked a young elf - Dobby - if he wanted to go with the expecting couple to help them around the house), and more advise than they could possibly remember.
They had also signed the necessary paperwork to assign the Potter and Black Wizengamot seats to the Knights party. Combined with the number of one-vote favours they'd accumulated, it was enough to pass the Anti-Love Potions Bill.
Harry had also copied his memories of the events Dumbledore had put him through and the abuse he had enabled, which would hopefully get the man arrested (along with the youngest Weasley children and matriarch as accomplices).
Severus had become a regular fixture during the remainder of the Hogwarts academic year, pacing up and down while worrying about the risks the young man could face; ranting about what he'd do to Dumbledore if Harry or the baby was injured; frantically asking for advice from his Knights who were parents; reading every book about pregnancy or babies he could find: or brewing any potion that had a chance of being needed (and a good few that wouldn't).
By the time Harry had finally gone into labour a week after his end-of-year exams, Tom had been ready to ban the man from his house, if only to get a few minutes of peace (he hadn't seen Nagini in weeks after she'd gotten fed up of being woken by a panicked/angry/excited expectant father at all hours).
He'd been pleased when the new parents asked him to be godfather to Osman Hugo Snape-Potter and had accepted. He was later relieved when he was told the godmother was Bellatrix. She doted on children, was a fierce fighter if provoked, and would die to protect her loved ones.
The new family were moved to his ancestral house, Gaunt Manor (apparently, there were wards that only allowed those in the bloodline with a certain level of magic to enter - Tom had been the first in five centuries to be allowed in) to protect them in case Dumbledore or members of his party tried to attack them for their part in his downfall. The Gaunts, despite their incestuous leanings, knew how to protect their homes: the wards scanned the intentions of anyone approaching and would react with reasonable force if needed.
According to the diary entries he'd read, the last wizard foolish enough to attempt an attack was de-aged to a toddler, Obliviated, and dropped one hundred miles directly east, reappearing somewhere in the North Sea.
The diary was quite cavalier about whether the man had survived.
Tom had managed to organise his Knights and their additional (willing or blackmailed) votes to finally get the Anti-Love Potions Bill passed (he would treasure the shocked expression on Dumbledore's face for the rest of his life).
The celebratory party lasted three days and left everyone who overindulged with hangovers. Harry, the only sober person in the house due to providing magic and milk to Osman, doled out the Hangover Cure potions after "accidentally" dropping a few pots and pans near the sufferers and dodging the retaliatory curses (magical and otherwise).
Tom managed to get an investigation into Dumbledore and the Weasleys started without anyone from the "Order" finding out and alerting them. After a lengthy investigation, hundreds of pages of witness accounts to go through, and a whole cauldron full of Veritaserum used, the Weasley children had their wands put under a monitoring ward which would alert the Ministry if any potentially harmful spell was cast. The matriarch was fined (later, the guilty trio were cast out from the family by Arthur Weasley once he found out what they'd been planning. He also filed for, and was granted, a divorce from Molly Weasley).
Dumbledore was finally fired from his post as Headmaster, permanently banned from ever stepping foot on the grounds, and was forced to step aside as leader of the "Order". Elphias Doge became the new leader, and, while as old as Dumbledore, he didn't have the man's leadership capabilities. The "Order" drifted apart and was eventually stricken from the Wizengamot books as a political party.
He was so delighted with the results that he organised a Ball in Malfoy Manor to get Madam Bones' Department more funding - they raised over 150,000G.
The Ball had also raised Dumbledore's ire. Due to the lowered wards, he could walk in the door unopposed, accompanied by Molly No-Name and her two children.
The children and harridan had proceeded to shriek up a storm upon spotting Harry and Severus, the former holding his son: the male and harridan demanding Harry marry the female, and the female trying to kiss Harry.
Severus had called the Aurors to escort them from the premises, but they weren't needed.
When one of the females shrieked that Osman was "A demon! Born of Dark Magic! He should be killed!", everyone saw Harry's last shreds of patience vanish. Tom was shocked when he heard him hiss Silencio! from across the room, silencing the trio until they could find a Parselmouth to hiss a Finite Incantatem.
Since, up until that moment, he'd considered himself the only Parselmouth in England and was quite unwilling to end the spell, they'd have to travel to an Asian country (India would be their best bet) or Morocco to find large communities of Parselmouths.
Dumbledore had gone mental. Brandishing his wand, firing curses at the young adult, screaming that "The Horcrux within you has taken over! My boy, you must allow me to get rid of it! You must sacrifice yourself for the greater good!"
Harry, who'd hastily handed Osman to a nearby Lucius, promptly didn't allow the old man to kill him. Instead, he'd scoffed.
"I'm pleased to say you're wrong, old man. I recently had a Gringotts inheritance test, and discovered that I have ancestors from the Indian Parselmouth community. (7) All my ancestors, including my father and grandfather, were Parselmouths. However, they hid it to not stand out as the Parselmouth foreigners among the stuffy pureblood "Light" community."
The Aurors had arrived in time to watch the old man cast an Avada Kedavra at the youth, who, luckily enough, dodged.
Ginevra No-Name, who'd snuck up behind Severus with a vial of (later revealed) enough Hemlock Essence to kill everyone in the room, wasn't so lucky.
Before the Aurors could bind Dumbledore (or Tom could curse him), Severus swiped his wand, casting an unknown spell non-verbally, which resulted in the man's glasses, watch, clothes and wand being slashed in half ("I only wanted to slash his wand. However, in my anger, I may have… overpowered the spell," the man later sheepishly admitted, before being tackled and snogged by Harry).
The old man was taken away by the Aurors naked, squinting, and his bisected wand left lying on the ground.
Tom watched gleefully, a few months later, as Dumbledore's former colleagues voted for him to receive the Kiss.
Molly and Ronald No-Name, reticent after the loss of Ginevra, were sentenced to seven and five years in Azkaban, respectively.
In a rare show of impropriety, Severus proposed to Harry as they left Courtroom 10, to which he joyfully replied, "YES!"
After realising what some of the British witches and wizards were like, Hermione Granger chose to move to and graduate from Beauxbatons, an event the new family had attended.
Evidently fed up with not having Tom's attention, Osman regained it by pulling his hair.
"Osman! Tom, I am so sorry; he's at that phase where he's pulling, biting and pinching everyone and everything," Harry exclaimed, reclaiming his son and checking him over, despite having been less than a foot away for the duration of the meal, Severus looking over his fiance's shoulder to also examine his son.
"It's all right," he responded, waving off the apology, though the couple had already vanished into their own world.
Tom thought about Dumbledore's comments about Voldemort.
The man was correct that he existed.
However, he'd gone with the bastardised translation of "flees death", believing it meant Tom wanted to be immortal.
He didn't.
The actual translation he'd intended was "flight of death" since that led to "death will fly" and "death will rise".
All of which meant that he would get revenge.
Tom watched his Knights talk, argue, laugh and eat, eventually being drawn into conversation by the Malfoys.
He had gotten his revenge, and he was pleased.
Críochnaithe
A.N:
(1) I have no idea where the accent comes from. For all I know, I've given Mike a Welsh accent. The point is, he has one. Kinda. Sometimes.
(2) According to various websites, Harry is a nickname for this. Other options included Harvey, Henry, Harrison, or Harold.
Also, complete coincidence, but whoever the original Haralambos was, "He lived during the reign of Septimius Severus (193–211)". *happy dance*
(3) In my head, the house has three floors. Ground floor, with kitchen/living/dining and utility rooms. First floor, with bedrooms and bathroom. Basement, with potions lab, equipment and ingredients storage.
(4) "a person addicted to luxury and pleasures of the senses" - .
(5) What To Expect When You're Expecting is an actual book. I just changed the title to suit the circumstances.
(6) Arabic name that means "son of a snake" (or I hope it does).
(7) "Racebending Harry Potter - In Defense of the Indian Harry Potter" -
I think it has an interesting, logical explanation in story format that passes muster. However, some of Harry's family tree has since been retconned, so it is slightly off.