A/N: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.
Room of Requirement
Harry woke with a start.
His eyes snapped open, darting across the interior of their shared bedroom. He felt disorientated and muddled, like someone had sent an electromagnetic pulse through his mind, scrambling his thoughts. He rubbed away the cold sweat on his forehead, and sat up.
He couldn't for the life of him decide if yesterday's events had been some kind of fever dream, or an actual happening. Perhaps there'd been no Hogsmeade trip. No Malfoy. No Death Eaters.
His gaze fell to Hermione's sleeping form next to him, and a tired sigh escaped his lips.
No, it had definitely been real. All of it, even the part with Draco stealing his blood. No point in running from reality. It always caught up with you in the end.
Turning his eyes, he glanced at the analogue clock on his bedside table, and felt the distinct urge to scream. He'd only managed a measly two hours of sleep. Just based on that simple observation alone, he could already tell this would be a shitty day.
Easing his way out of the bed so as to not wake Hermione, he Accio'ed a nearby towel into his hand using wandless magic, and headed for the shower. Perhaps the soothing sensation of hot water caressing his skin would help alleviate his rapidly-declining mental state.
Arriving at the bathroom, he shut the door behind him, yanked off his boxers, and stepped into the marble-tiled shower. A lazy flick of his hand turned on the water pressure, and a harsh breath left him as the stream hit his naked body.
It felt good, he had to admit. In here, surrounded by nothing but steam and warmth, the worries of the world seemed somewhat further removed. He knew the relief was temporary, of course, but found himself thankful for it all the same.
That was… until his mind started properly considering the events of yesterday.
At once, the fleeting traces of tranquility he had been experiencing were ripped from his mind, only to be replaced by a deep, seething fury. A bottomless wellspring of anger, directed solely at himself.
What he had done yesterday went well beyond the limits of stupidity, and straight into the realm of brainlessness. The fact that he had allowed Draco to just… steal his blood like that… without employing even the tiniest measure of self-defense…
By the time he exited the shower, Harry was positively fuming. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he moved – nostrils flared, crimson eyes burning bright with indignation and wrath.
He usually wasn't one for excessive self-loathing, but in that moment, Harry truly hated himself. Hated himself for his incompetency, and his feeble resolve. He should have killed Draco where he stood, without giving him so much as a second to react. Slit his fucking throat open from ear to ear. That's what he should have done.
"It's not your fault, Harry," Hermione's voice suddenly rang out from behind him. An indignant scoff forced its way up his throat at the sound of it.
At some point during his shower, she must have woken up, and walked in here. How long she had been standing there, he had no clue. He just knew he didn't want to talk to her right now.
"Don't," Harry replied curtly, not bothering to look at her. "Just… don't."
"I'm being serious," she continued, crossing her arms. "You made a mistake. It happens. Move past it."
"This… was so much more than a mistake, Hermione," Harry said, his tone oddly strained.
"What if the syringe was enchanted?" she tried, though her voice betrayed her lack of conviction. "There's no guarantee you would have been able to manipulate your blood from within its chamber."
"It wasn't enchanted, and you know it," Harry scoffed. "It was just me being bloody stupid, that's all. So drop it."
"Oh, come off it. That's hardly-"
"I SAID DROP IT, HERMIONE!" Harry suddenly growled, momentarily startling the brown-haired witch. A look of defiance soon came in to replace the shock, however.
"No! I won't drop it!" she shot back, her mouth twisting into an angry snarl. "You made an honest mistake, and now you're being childish about it!"
"Childish? CHILDISH?!" Harry exploded, whipping around on his heels to face her. The rage in his eyes made her take an involuntary step backwards. "There's nothing childish about this! I made a mistake that allowed the Dark Lord to return, Hermione. The greatest threat to British wizarding society since fucking Grindelwald, and I gave him my blood on a silver platter! Hundreds, if not thousands of people are going to die as a direct result of my "little mistake", so you'll forgive me for feeling a tiny bit angry about that!"
"No! I won't!" Hermione stated with ironclad determination, her eyes narrowing into slits. "And don't you dare raise your voice at me for this, Harry James Potter! I am not the one responsible, and I will not be made to bear your misplaced anger!
For a brief moment, it looked as if Harry might genuinely strike her down. Had it been anyone else, he wasn't sure if he would have been able to resist the urge. But not Hermione. Never Hermione. Not in a million years.
He unclenched his shaking fists, and let out an aggravated sigh of annoyance.
"I'm just so… angry with myself," he spat, lowering his head to stare at the ground. "I mean, it's such an obvious thing to do! I know I can channel magic directly through my blood now, and yet, I stood by like a fucking halfwit as Malfoy gleefully stole the one thing I could have easily turned against him!"
"I know, Harry, and I understand your frustration," Hermione said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But you made a mistake. A costly mistake, sure, but a mistake nonetheless. You forgot about your newfound abilities in the heat of the moment – it happens. It hasn't been that long since you underwent the ritual, and Godric knows you had other things to worry about as well, with the Petrification and all the Stunning spells flying about."
"I… suppose…"
"And besides, what good will anger do us now?" she sighed. "What's done is done. We learn from our blunders, take steps to prevent them from happening again, and set our eyes to the future."
"… You know, I really hate that solution-oriented brain of yours sometimes," Harry grouched. "Why can't you just let me wallow in my own self-despair for a little bit?"
"Because you're better than that," Hermione stated with a nod. "I know you are."
"Your words, not mine," Harry said, before taking a deep breath, and letting the tension fade from his shoulders. His entire posture grew more relaxed as the anger that had coursed through his veins just moments prior disappeared, replaced with a vague sense of despondency and acceptance.
"I guess we should get ready for the meeting in Dumbledore's office," he continued, running a hand through his unruly hair. "There'll be lots to talk about there, given everything that has happened."
"Yeah, you're probably right," Hermione said, before a tenacious sort of look crossed her face. "And after we're done with that, we should go to the Room of Requirement to practice your wandless casting. We need to make it second nature for you to cast spells without even thinking of your wand. As it stands right now, your brain is still attuned to the idea that spellcasting has to be performed with an instrument. We need it to unlearn that pattern."
"Absolutely," Harry agreed, feeling the fires of determination roar to life inside of him once more. "Now that Voldemort is back for real, we need to get a lot more spartan about our exercises. I'll tell Luna to up the ante during our sparring sessions as well – it's high time we got serious about this whole "trying-not-to-die" business."
"You know, this is starting to sound suspiciously like a plan," Hermione smirked. "And I thought you didn't do those."
"Well, never too late to try something new," Harry grinned back. This time, the smile was genuine. "And who knows – maybe we'll actually stand a better chance against the Dark Lord if we don't rely entirely on Lady Luck to carry us through?"
"Wow, what an idea! It's almost as if… I've been trying to tell you that this entire time," Hermione giggled.
"Revelations, my dear," Harry winked. "Revelations."
Headmaster's Office
The atmosphere in the Headmaster's office was not much better than the one that had permeated Harry and Hermione's shared bedroom just minutes prior. A heavy silence clung tight around the muted souls of the ones gathered – a primal sort of lull, the kind that signaled the coming of devastation, and ruin.
Harry supposed it was rather fitting, given what they now faced.
And, speaking of gathering, the office was unusually crowded. There was the Headmaster, of course, but also Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape, and two people Harry had never seen before. They both looked to be in their early forties, and sported blonde and brown hair, respectively. But that was not the main thing Harry noticed about them, though – the detail that caught his attention the most, was the faint light pulsing through their veins at regular intervals, illuminating their blood vessels from the inside.
"Ahh, Harry, Hermione. Come in, come in," Dumbledore said, getting up from behind his large, claw-footed desk to bid them welcome. "I hope you have both had a good night's rest, despite the… events of yesterday."
"Thank you, Professor. We… We've slept," Hermione responded, though the dark rings beneath her eyes told a different story.
"Good. Very good," Dumbledore nodded, before swinging out his arm to gesture towards the other people gathered in the room. "Now, I believe introductions are in order. You both know Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, of course, but these two, I do not believe you have met."
"No, we've not had the pleasure. Allow me, Albus," the blonde-haired man said, before stepping forwards to offer his hand to the younger couple. "I'm Nicolas Flamel, and this is my wife, Perenelle Flamel."
A prolonged moment of silence followed his statement.
"Bullshit," Harry gaped, his eyes positively bulging out of their sockets. "There's no way."
Even Hermione looked shocked, with her mouth slack-jawed and hanging open.
"I can assure you he's not lying," the woman said, a touch of humor coloring her voice. "We are the Flamels, for better or worse."
"But… But…" Harry stammered. "You both look so-…"
"Young?" Nicolas smiled. Harry nodded. "Yes, well… I suppose we do, given our age. Though I must say, I do miss my thirties."
"Oh, shush you," Perenelle chided, though it was clear she was hardly upset. "Either way, it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."
"U-Uhh, yeah… Likewise," Harry coughed, nodding his head in greeting to the two mythical figures standing in front of him. Merlin, they looked good. Especially considering the fact that they were supposed to be, what… 600 years? Give or take?
"And if you are Harry Potter, then this must be Miss Granger," Nicolas remarked, turning to address the somewhat befuddled-looking girl. "The brightest witch at Hogwarts… or so they say."
"O-Oh… Well, I wouldn't… I'm not sure if…" Hermione started, turning a pleasant shade of scarlet at the praise. "I-I'm simply highly logical, which allows me to look past extraneous detail and perceive clearly that which others often overlook."
Harry vaguely recalled having heard Hermione use that argument before, which in turn lead him to the conclusion that it was probably her favorite way of deflecting praise, whenever such adulation made her feel uncomfortable or put on the spot.
"Ah, well… Not a bad trait to possess," Nicolas commented. "And combined with your diligence and sense of responsibility, I dare say you'd make a fine Minister for Magic one day."
"M-Minister?!" Hermione gasped. "Me? N-No, that's… completely ridiculous…"
To anyone else, she must have appeared entirely mortified at the notion of shouldering such a burden. But Harry knew Hermione, and he could tell that, underneath the shock and uncertainty, she didn't entirely dislike the idea. He could see it in the corners of her eyes, how they sharpened ever so slightly at the thought, and in the way her jaw worked beneath her skin, tightening and unwinding in a loop.
"Well, Merlin knows she'd be a better fit for the job than Fudge," Perenelle scoffed, eliciting a grunt of concurrence from Nicolas. "The man was so eager to deny the Dark Lord's resurrection, you'd think he was working for him!"
"Cornelius Fudge is not a Death Eater," Snape suddenly interjected, his brooding voice somehow managing to sound both bored and highly impassioned at the same time. "He's simply a scared old man who fears the possibility of the Dark Lord returning during his term in office. He knows what such a thing would entail for the British wizarding society, and wants nothing to do with it."
"How could you possibly know that?" Harry asked, drawing the intense stare of the Potions Master. "I mean, for all we know, he could be in cahoots with Lucius Malfoy. Judging by what I've heard, the two of them seem to be awfully close."
"Lucius Malfoy is a sycophant and a parasite who enjoys whispering sweet nothings in the ears of the influential, whilst burrowing his way deep beneath their skin and leeching off their power," Snape growled. "Which is precisely what he has done with Fudge."
"Exactly!" Harry exclaimed. "Which means that-"
"However, to Lucius' great ire, Fudge is a man that is flexible on most matters, save for one thing – he adamantly refuses to serve the Dark Lord, regardless of any bribes or honeyed promises."
"Professor Snape speaks true," Dumbledore agreed. "Cornelius Fudge is a great many things, but a Death Eater, he is not."
"But again, how do you know that?" Harry questioned. He was starting to feel like there was something else at play here. Dumbledore seemed a bit too eager to take Snape at his word.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake… Because I am a Death Eater myself, Potter," Snape barked, before pulling up his sleeve to reveal a skeletal tattoo that covered the middle of his forearm.
"Wha-…" Harry choked, feeling the last vestiges of his sanity slipping away. First, he runs into the Flamels casually lounging in Dumbledore's office, and now, Snape outs himself as a Death Eater? What would be next, Hermione revealing that she had actually been a Polyjuiced Bellatrix Lestrange all this time?
"Professor Snape is not a Death Eater in the traditional sense, Harry," Dumbledore explained, sensing his confusion. "He turned traitor during the last war, and now works for us as a double agent within the Dark Lord's ranks."
"W-Wait, hold on… So you're telling me that… Professor Snape is… was… a Death Eater?" Hermione asked. "A Death Eater who now works for us?"
"Precisely so, Miss Granger," Snape droned. "How remarkably clever of you, to finally wrap your head around such a complicated concept."
"Severus… please," Dumbledore sighed. Snape shot him an annoyed look, but otherwise chose to hold his tongue.
"I'm so lost," Harry sighed.
"Me too," Hermione acquiesced. "But I think I'm starting to understand that… there's been more at play here than I realized."
"You might think that Professor Snape hates you, Harry, but in truth… he has been working to protect you ever since you were a little boy," Dumbledore said with a smile. "The reason behind that, however, is not for me to disclose, I'm afraid."
"Albus…" Snape warned, his eyes narrowing. "Do not speak another word of it."
"I will not," Dumbledore reassured him, before moving to address the whole room instead. "Now, putting that aside, I believe we have some important matters to discuss – namely, the resurrection of Lord Voldemort."
A powerful hush fell over the group at that most hellish of statements.
"So… he's really back, huh?" Nicolas finally said.
"I am afraid so," Dumbledore sighed, suddenly looking every bit his age. "Severus was summoned to Malfoy Manor as a Death Eater, to witness the Dark Lord's rebirth with his own eyes. According to his report, it was a most unpleasant ritual to behold."
"What kind of catalyst did he use?" Perenelle questioned. "It would have to have been a very powerful object to bring back a wizard of his caliber, after all."
"It was an artefact, of sorts," Snape elaborated. "A stone-shaped thing, charged with the souls of those who lost their lives in the Godric's Hollow and Upper Flagley massacres."
"So… that's what those attacks were for…" Professor McGonagall muttered, who had up until now chosen to remain mostly silent. "To charge this… artefact… with souls, that the Dark Lord could then use as a sacrifice in exchange for a new body."
"Yes, except… It didn't go quite as expected," Snape continued. "The Dark Lord was granted a new body, but he also…"
"… Yes?" Nicolas prompted when the Potions Master suddenly fell silent. "He also… what?"
"It would appear that the Dark Lord also gained the ability to possess other people, and take control of their bodies," Snape finished with a scowl, as if recalling some unpleasant memory.
A stifling reticence filled the void left behind in the wake of that particular declaration. No one seemed quite sure of how to react. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes and lifted a wizened hand to stroke through the length of his beard. Professor McGonagall let out a quiet gasp, and wore the shock plain on her face. Nicolas and Perenelle raised quizzical eyebrows and exchanged a cryptic look, and Hermione did her best impression of someone who had just discovered fire for the first time.
"Well… That's not good," Harry swallowed, breaking the tense stalemate.
"It's preposterous, is what it is!" Professor McGonagall declared. "Are you certain of this, Severus?"
"I am afraid so," Snape confirmed. "I saw it happen with my own two eyes – the Dark Lord possessed Lucius Malfoy shortly after his body had finished its… reconstruction process."
"What… What did he look like?" Harry suddenly asked, catching the Potions Master off-guard. "Before he took over Malfoy's body, what… what did he look like?"
"… He looked like a young Tom Riddle," Snape replied after a brief pause. "Except his eyes were green. They… They resembled-"
"Harry's eyes," Hermione suddenly stated, before Snape could finish the rest of his sentence. "That's what they looked like, didn't they?"
Snape gave an irritated growl at her interruption, but nodded his affirmation regardless.
"I mean, it only makes sense, right?" Hermione continued. "Voldemort used Harry's blood as a key component in the ritual, so it would stand to reason that… some of his traits carried over in the process. Much like how Harry got Parseltongue from Voldemort… right?"
"A sound deduction, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "What say you, Perenelle? You are the one with the most experience in this field."
All eyes went to Perenelle Flamel, as she lifted a contemplative hand to her chin.
"Well, there is a chance Miss Granger's assumption is correct," she started. "The whole point of most magical rituals is to imbue the recipient with qualities or abilities derived from the ingredients that are utilized, after all. And Harry's blood contains latent genetic information that could impact the outcome of a ritual, especially one such as this, where the goal is to create an entire body from scratch."
"So… Voldemort is walking around with my mother's eyes?" Harry asked. And I'm not?
He left that last part unspoken. As far as he could tell, his frivolous use of the Colovaria spell had yet to be discovered by anyone except for Luna, so there would be little point to advertising that fact unless strictly necessary.
"Well, if Professor Snape's account is to be believed, then… yes," Perenelle responded. "There is, uhh… also a possibility that the two of you may now be related. On a technical level at least, since he used genetic information extracted from your blood in the reconstruction of his body."
"… Now that's ironic," Harry sighed. "In a really fucked up sort of way."
"Regardless, the important part is this," Nicolas interjected. "The Dark Lord is back. He's got a new body – a stronger body – and he can seemingly possess other people at will. This means that, at some point in the future, he can and will pretend to be someone he is not. So the question now becomes… how do we separate the wheat from the chaff? The unaffected parties from the ones that have the Dark Lord controlling them?"
"Maybe we can look at the eyes?" Harry suggested. "If they've turned green, like mine, they should be pretty easy to spot, right?"
"True, but I highly doubt Voldemort would be stupid enough to overlook such an identifying detail," Hermione mused. "There are… ways… to change a person's eye color, after all."
She would know – it had been her idea to use the Colovaria spell in the first place.
"Either way, I believe that it would, perhaps, be wise to discuss such counter-measures at a later time," Dumbledore said. "For now, we have ascertained important truths regarding the situation, and learned of the threat we now face. Following this meeting, I shall call for the Order to reconvene, and double-check the wards surrounding Hogwarts."
Dumbledore took a moment to adjust his half-moon spectacles, during which, he sent Harry a worried look.
"As for you, Harry, Hermione… You must promise me that you will not go seeking danger. Now that the Dark Lord has returned, no place outside these walls will be safe for you. As such, I would like to request that you remain at Hogwarts for the foreseeable future, and allow the Order to take care of things on the outside."
"Yeah, not a chance," Harry scoffed. "I've spent the better part of 4 years fighting against Voldemort, and I'm not stopping now."
"Harry…" Dumbledore sighed. "You must understand that, as of this moment, you are no match for the Dark Lord. If you attempt to fight him now, it will only end in your doom."
"I know, and that's precisely why I have been working my ass off for the past year now," Harry fired back. "Which, I'll have you know, is an initiative I need not have taken if you had been bothered to train me properly in the first place."
"Train you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. "Train you for… what, exactly?"
"To fight the Dark Lord, of course!" Harry exclaimed. "What else could it possibly be?"
"If things had proceeded as they should have, there would have been no need for you to even think of the Dark Lord, Harry," Dumbledore chided him. "It was never my intention to have you fight him in such a manner. If anything, I sought to give you a normal childhood, and shield you from the terrors of the past."
"Yeah, well, great job on that," Harry sneered. "I've only danced with death, what… three or four times in the past couple of years now?"
"Enough," Nicolas said, shaking his head. "This pointless bickering will take us nowhere. I shall train him, Albus."
An electrifying silence followed his words.
"Are you certain?" Dumbledore frowned. "You have not taken an apprentice since-"
"Since I trained you," Nicolas finished. "And yes, I am certain. The boy is no ordinary student, Albus. He is the Boy-Who-Lived, and that is a title that shall continue to haunt him so long as Tom Riddle still draws breath."
Harry, for his part, had been rendered utterly speechless. The prospect of being tutored by such a legendary (if not mythical) figure was too much for his brain to handle.
Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to know precisely how to handle it.
"Uhh… Mister Flamel?" she asked, a slight quiver to her voice.
"Yes?"
"W-Would you perhaps… consider taking in another student as well? One s-such as myself, perhaps?"
Nicolas raised an eyebrow.
"Well, aren't you a proactive one?" he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's been a while since I've met someone who was brave enough to ask me that question in such a brazen way."
"O-Oh… I'm… I'm really sorry, I didn't-" Hermione started, only to be interrupted by Perenelle moments later.
"Don't worry, darling – it's not an insult. If anything, I believe my husband here is quite impressed," she smiled. "Sadly, though, I also believe he has a special kind of training in mind. The kind of training that others might… struggle with."
"… I see," Hermione said, looking dejected.
"But again, I propose a solution. Nicolas will train Harry, and I… will train you."
She couldn't have picked a better combination of words if she'd tried.
"R-REALLY?!" Hermione squealed, before turning red with embarrassment at her own outburst. "I-I mean… that would be very nice of you."
A delightful laugh slipped from her lips as Perenelle took in the sight of her new student.
"… Normally, I would object to this," Professor McGonagall sighed. "But, seeing as both Mr. Potter and Miss Granger have progressed well past the current curriculum in their studies, I see no reason to do so now."
"It would seem, then, that our meeting has reached its end," Dumbledore nodded. "Harry and Hermione are free to accept lessons from the Flamels – in fact, it would be senseless not to. As for us, we shall strive to reassemble the Order, and work towards finding the best path forwards."
"… Merlin, what a day this has turned out to be," Harry muttered out loud, mostly to himself. "Now, I just have one last question… What the hell is the Order?"
A/N: A more slow-paced chapter this time around. I figured a change of pace would be nice, after all the excitement.
Finally got to write the meeting between Harry/Hermione and the Flamels. Been looking forward to that for quite a while now. Next up is the vampires (you haven't forgotten about them, have you?)
The Voldemort threat is very real now. He's back, and ready to tear shit up. At least a little bit, because as you can probably tell, my Voldemort is somewhat different in that regard. A change in priorities, I suppose you could say. He's still evil, no doubt about it, but not cartoonishly so. He has a goal, and works towards it, using whatever means he deems necessary. You'll see a lot more of that in the future.
Big thank-you's for all the warm comments on the last chapter. It was a right pain to write, so it's good to see that the payoff was worth it. Story has officially hit half a million views now (if we tally up the views from both FFN and AO3) so yeah... that's a thing. Definitely don't deserve it, but I appreciate all the support nonetheless. I can only aspire to make it worth your time.
Next chapter will be up sometime in February, I think. No hard promises on that, because as most of you probably know, Hogwarts Legacy drops on the 7th (for those who have pre-ordered the game) and I will very much be diving head-first into that rabbit hole. The prospect of exploring a 1:1 recreation of Hogwarts is just... mind-boggling for a HP author such as myself. Do you have any idea how helpful that game will be for mapping purposes alone? Finally I'll have an accurate point of reference for the layout of the castle, and its interior... Ahh, can't wait.
Either way, that's enough of my yapping. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and look forward to reading more. I'll be seeing you all again in February. In the meantime, take care of yourselves, and enjoy Hogwarts Legacy. I'll be right there with you. Twisted out.