From Ruin

by GraeFoxx

It all went wrong. Harry is locked away in Azkaban for decades as Voldemort destroys and conquers the magical world and beyond unchallenged. However, Voldemort's greatest strength will be used against him, and Harry is sent back in time with one mission: to kill the Dark Lord before he rises again.

13. Contend and Press On

This chapter is like a part two of the last chapter. I didn't put the Potters Honor meeting in the last one because the chapter was getting too big and I still needed to revise a few times before I posted.

SO this chapter deals with the rest of the aftermath and moves the story ahead.

A little over 13K for those who like to pace themselves :)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-=REVISED 4/7/2023=-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I had some time and thought I thought I'd do some simple revisions-mostly grammar stuff, but also including changing the narrative from present tense to simple past tense. Hopefully, it's a better read this way.

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Contend and Press On

Of all the Honor Meetings the Flamels had attended, the one with the Potters was the most nerve-wracking for Harry. They were all sitting in the private room of the Three Broomsticks, in a similar set-up as with other meetings; Lily and Hardwin on one side of the table, and Harry, Nicolas, and Perenelle on the opposite. Even though Perenelle was seated in front of Lily, the Potter head was looking at Nicolas' bandaged face while Hardin looked straight at Harry's bandaged face.

With half of his face covered in white bandages, Harry recited the obligatory Esteem statement that was due to his station after Hardwin's honor edict. Harry's hands, Nicolas' hands, and part of Nicolas' face were also bandaged as well. Harry was so afraid that Lily would make the connection between James Potter and a baby Harry Potter because if anyone would, Harry was sure she could. Thus, they resorted to a cover story to hide part of his face. Harry also didn't want to give a stiff performance using his Occlumency the entire time.

"You'll have to forgive my idiot husband and matching son," Perenelle said with a tight smile after the pompous recitals. It was decided beforehand that Perenelle should take the lead as much as possible, since an exhausted motherly figure was much more relatable. Although, Harry wasn't sure how much of it was acting on Perenelle's part. "They've recently taken an interest in combining muggle motors with rune schemes. Working on it this morning… Well, clearly it did not turn out as well as they'd hoped," she explained to Lily, turning an irritated eye at the bandaged pair.

"You have an interest in the muggle world?" Lily asked Ares with genuine curiosity. "Despite being the head of our House, I'm half-blood, born and raised in the muggle world before I was accepted into Hogwarts. Now I teach Muggle Studies. So, I'm very well acquainted with many of their discoveries. What sort of motor is it?"

"A two wheeled motor that relies heavily on the rider's sense of balance," Nicolas answered for Harry, drawing the attention to himself. "It's the electricity that's causing the runes we're using to short or... as you can see, backfire," Nicolas admitted sheepishly, holding up his bandaged hands amiably.

"It was a motorcycle," Harry said in a rougher than normal voice, like he had a sore throat for days. "Which we'll make sure to register with the Muggle Artifacts Office... you know, when we get it working." Ares looked over to Nicolas and they both nod excitedly.

"…Of course one explosion wouldn't be enough for you two," Perenelle muttered and sighed as Lily smiled.

"Hardwin has a friend who's father is very keen on many muggle artifacts; plugs, batteries, all sorts of knick knacks. He questions me to no end about the simplest of their inventions," she revealed with a light laugh. "Isn't that right, honey?" she asked, turning to her reserved son.

Hardwin turned to his mother, a slightly tired and irritated look on his face that only she, as a mother, could see and answered, "Sure, mum."

'He hides his emotions well, like a good heir should,' Harry thought, but he could pick up minute details and can accurately guess that Hardwin wasn't happy.

Lily gave Hardwin a curious look before turning to the family across from her. "I suppose we should move on to the Honor Debt," Lily said to the Flamels, eying Ares specifically. "It's been a little over three weeks, and I'm still in awe of what you did for Hardwin, myself, and our house. I don't even want to think about how much worse it could have easily been if not for you." Turning to the parents, Lilly added, "So, I must insist on the maximum monetary token allotted by the Ministry's Aristocratic Commission, as well as the cooperation, patronage, or accommodation this house and its members may be in a position to assist you with, as guided by the Ancient Noble's Society. If there's any help we can offer, please, you must let us."

Harry had a most distasteful idea. If she was true to her word, and he asked, she would have to tell them what happened that night when Voldemort attacked. He could ask her anything, and she would have to tell him. She couldn't lie when honor and magic were a factor. Honor Magic was odd, nearly fringe, magic, and impossible to study, but the generally accepted idea was, a wizard's magic resonated with the wizard's feelings—more so with extreme feelings. To lie when one's honor was at stake, could have unforeseen and adverse results, almost as if the magic was balancing itself in negative ways—inviting bad fate into one's life—so no wizard risked it.

If Harry asked about that night, and Lily told them about a second child no one seemed to know about, he could ask more questions to find out everything there was to know about this timeline's Harry. Why did she abandon him? Why didn't she check on him, at least when he was of age to attend Hogwarts? How was Dumbledore involved? Of all the people in the world who should love him, why didn't she?

Harry was frozen with indecision for the simple reason that knowing the answers to these questions wouldn't help him track and kill Voldemort, and why should anything else matter more than that? But he couldn't keep the burning questions in his head quiet. The questions had a life of their own and fiercely fought against his logic and mission.

"While we graciously accept the spirit of your offer, and don't mean to diminish their significance in any way, we cannot in good conscience accept such a large sum," Perenelle replied to the Potter matriarch. "Though we more than appreciate the honor of your generosity, the House of Flamel has always placed more value in friendship and good relations than in monetary gain. We're rather odd that way."

Of course, Lily respectfully objected, and as they haggled between themselves, Harry continued his internal conflict. He was only interrupted when Hardwin asked him, "How'd you do all that? I saw Bill's memory and everyone's been saying the same thing. No one our age should be capable of dueling like that. Even I can see that's not possible."

Harry looked at his brother's blue eyes a moment before answering, "First, it wasn't a duel, it was a fight. Second, under normal circumstances, I'd agree with you—and 'everyone,' I guess—but my life is anything but normal."

"That's not an answer," Hardwin stated with an edge. "This is about Honor and Magic. You are compelled to be honest in these meetings."

To Harry, it seemed Hardwin had no issues demanding answers to his questions. "Nothing about what I did that day is a lie," Harry responded lightly. "Whether you want to believe it or not."

"How about 'not,' and you answer me," Hardwin mouthed back.

"Hardwin!" Lily snapped, eying her son fiercely. Hardwin remained silent and Lily turned to Ares, stating, "I apologize. He really is grateful."

Harry absentmindedly raised and shook his hand, as if to say, 'don't worry,' adding, "It's fine, Lady Potter."

Lily suddenly paused, seemingly taken aback, and tilted her head in a slant, staring suspiciously at Harry, as if trying to look through thick mist.

"We've spoken with many honored and distinguished houses, Lady Potter," Perenelle interjected, likely catching her suspicious look of Harry. Drawing Lily's attention to her, Perenelle continued, "In all honesty, we're simply looking for goodhearted people from all walks of life we can associate with, now that we've returned from our self imposed isolation." Perenelle smiled and chuckled, but the joke fell flat for Lily, who still appeared out of sorts.

"If you find it agreeable, we'd love to have a few get-togethers," Nicolas suggested, trying to garner attention. "Possibly when the children are out of Hogwarts, or later if it's more convenient for you."

"I think that sounds lovely," Lily evenly stated. "Don't you agree, Hardwin?"

"…Absolutely," he said in a dull voice.

"Wonderful," Perenelle announced. "Perhaps we can meet later for details, maybe over tea?"

"…Yes," Lily eventually said. "No yes, of course. You can come by my office or I yours," Lily added with a light laugh. "My apologies, I must seem so absentminded. I was just… Well, yes. I think that would be great." After more high class frivolity, the Potters depart.

"What do you think?" Perenelle cautiously asked Harry. "Something you did must've sparked a memory or impression. It looked like a close call."

"Yeah," Harry replied, replaying whatever mannerism he did in his mind. "But even a close call can grow to questions, and from there, questions can grow to much worse."

"Why much worse?" Nicolas asked. "What does it matter if she knows who you are? …At least, in this timeline?"

"I imagine there are a lot of situations where having one's mother in your life is a good thing," Harry began to explain. "Fighting arguably the greatest Dark Lord in history to my possible death isn't one of those situations. She'd be better off away from me."

"Is that the only reason?" Perenelle asked suspiciously.

"No," Harry honestly answered, but didn't elaborate on it, and they left the Three Broomsticks together.

—

Possibly the best thing that came out of all of this for Harry was being able to talk to Luna and Hermione freely, without restraint. Hearing them call him Ares was still weird for him, but calling them by their names again was like a healing balm to the insanity that was traveling back into a deranged timeline. It started a week after the Crouch incident, during lunch, and to the shock of the school.

Harry and Draco had avoided crowds for several days after the story broke in the Prophet, drawing the entirety of the public eye on Hogwarts, and more specifically, Ares Flamel. It was ten times worse than when he was The-Boy-Who-Lived. It was so bad, rumors started floating around the halls that claimed the Auror's department or the Ministry were keeping him away from school in a desperate attempt to recruit him, making him the youngest Auror in history.

The real reason no one saw them was that he and Draco resorted to disillusioning themselves as they went to classes, taking seats in the back of the class, as well as eating outside or in the Hogwarts kitchens just to avoid the mob of questions, the fearful looks, or the gazes of admiration. Hedwig was working extra hard due to the massive influx of letters, and Harry didn't care for it. He always felt all the attention was like big fat flies constantly buzzing around his face, and diving into his eyes or open mouth. The attention even troubled Draco in an unexpected way.

"You know, I've always wanted people to look at me the way they look at us now," he glumly stated. "Little did I know I'd have to be at the edge of death to get it. I never thought to thank you..."

Surprised, alarmed, confounded, leery, thoughtful, yet light of heart, Harry quickly told the silver-haired boy, "Yeah well, don't bother. I still hate you." Harry was trying to defend the fragile balance of their comfortable antagonism.

Draco swung his head around in surprise, but looking at Harry, a whole history of unbridled chaos and regret choked his nurtured arrogance to submission. The familiar misery and hardship in his housemate's silvery eyes compelled Harry to make himself clearer. "I mean, not as much as I used to. You're tolerable, obviously. Though it still annoys the shite out of me when you don't anticipate obvious attacks."

"Oh bugger off!" Draco quickly retorted. "You attack from three opposing fronts at the same time! And what're ya getting all soft on me for? I hate you too! Doesn't mean I can't be thankful or nothing."

"Fine," an irate Harry threw back. "Forget I said anything you manky tosser."

With an audible sigh of relief, Draco replied, "That's more like it," finding the concept of friendship with Harry Potter just too weird.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, finding the concept of friendship with Draco Malfoy just too weird.

"We eating outside again?" Draco asked, moving past the weirdness.

"No," Harry replied.

Although Daphne hadn't reported any new attacks on Hermione or Luna, he was worried about them, and with his own eyes, he needed to see that they were safe. Walking into the imperceptibly repaired Great Hall, Nova naturally flew above the boisterous Ravenclaws to Hermione and Luna, who were very happy to see her, signaling to all who were paying attention that the fourteen-year-old who had defeated a Death Eater had arrived. Ignoring the gazing or hushed whispers, Harry made his way to the doppelgangers of his past friends.

The Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables had large sections of their seats taken by the French and Bulgarian delegates, who were watching him, and as Harr passed Fleur, he gave her a nod and a hello, all the while not looking forward to their scheduled Honor Meeting. She nodded back and stuck to the custom of minimal contact until their families could meet to make their honor offerings of gratitude. It sounded ridiculous to Harry, but the insanely rich often seemed ridiculous to him to begin with.

Harry spotted Hammond, still looking out of sorts and agitated, keeping a nervous eye on Isobel, Qarinah, and Nimue. It seemed like the penalties he suffered were as permanent as the enchanted tattoo on his chest. Harry hoped the mark would always remind him of what was in store for him if he didn't keep to the civil and law-abiding.

Harry noted Hermione and Luna seemed fine as he approached them. "Hey," he started. "Sorry I haven't been around. I wanted to thank you for looking after Nova when I had to talk to the officials, but after the articles, well, it's just more attention than I like."

"There's no need for an apology, heir Flamel," Luna responded in her dream-like tone. "It's a sign of good character to not seek the attention of crowds. It means they do not govern your actions, but it also means you make an ideal target for Skin-Walkers," Luna added, eying him as if she feared for his safety.

"I'll, uh, try to be careful, then," Harry evenly stated. "And you can call me Ares, if you like. Both of you."

"I would," Luna said with an easy smile. "I always felt the sound your voice was highly pleasant to hear, like if radishes could speak, so I've wanted you to call me Luna since we first met."

"Radishes aside," Hermione began. "I'd very much like it if you called me by my first name as well." Petting Nova, she seemed far less reserved or conflicted than when he first became Slytherin. "Would it be possible to have lunch together at some point?" she cautiously asked, as if hoping they could still be friends. "In the future, and outside, of course."

"Why not now?" Harry replied, taking a seat next to Hermione, and picking up a plate.

As if another Death Eater had entered the Great Hall, it grew very silent in the expanse of the room as Harry filled his plate. Nothing was immediately said about the Slytherin sitting at the Ravenclaw table for several moments before the dam holding scandalized whispers broke, and the room was flooded with hushed conversations about the heinous sin. While cognizant and irritated by the room's agape astonishment for the breach in House loyalty, Harry preferred the sense of ordinariness Hermione and Luna's company provided—though at the moment, Hermione and Luna were looking just as dumbstruck as the others.

Harry checked his food as he usually did and found no foreign contaminants. Before he ate and fed Nova, Hermione asked, "What is that spell you cast over your food?"

"It's a useful little charm that I'm frankly surprised not many use," Harry began. "It's a diagnostic charm I learned to make sure your food is safe to eat..."

They continued to talk and no one dared tell Harry to return to his own section—the teachers because it wasn't actually against any rule, and the students because the terrifying maniac he had defended everyone from was still fresh in their minds. Through the weeks, the three became comfortable with each other, so much so, it was nearly like having his Hermione back.

It wasn't long before she astutely pointed out, "You're a very private person." Seated in the valley watching Nova fly high above, Harry wasn't sure how best to respond, so Hermione continued. "It's not as if I can say you don't answer questions, but when you do, they tend to be vague, like you'd rather I imagine my own answers without having to definitively say yourself. If you'd like to explain why, I'd love to hear it, otherwise I'm going to make my own assumptions as to why you want to keep things to yourself—not to say it's wrong."

"Don't you feel it's a little soon to open Pandora's Box?" he asked with a wry smirk. "You might not like what you find."

"Oh, har-har," Hermione returned sarcastically. "I highly doubt it's quite so monumental. Of course, you don't have to tell me if you prefer not to, but you're my first friend—not to disregard Luna in any way. We are friends, certainly. She's sweet, has a good heart, and an oddly arranged, though, nevertheless, sharp mind, but we are different in most others ways, making it a challenge to be truly close. At the risk of scaring you away, you're the first proper friend I've had since I've started Hogwart's three whole years ago. It would just mean the world to me if... if this was a friendship that could stand the test of time, and- and that simply can't happen without trust first."

"Even time is a test for you," Harry humorously remarked, slightly sidestepping the seriousness of her plea. Harry knew with a hundred percent certainty they'd be friends forever if forever was a possibility, but right now, her safety seemed far more probable a good distance away from him, and he wanted her to be safe this time.

"I- well, I just don't see what's so offensive about tests," Hermione replied to the defense of tests everywhere. "They're a great way to measure one's progress. And honestly, why do a thing if you're not going to do it to the best of your ability?" Harry chuckled and nodded before she stated, "Don't think I didn't notice your evasiveness. Shall I take that as my answer, then? I'll continue to be your friend regardless. I simply want you to know you can trust me."

"I do trust you, Hermione," Harry easily answered. "We may not know each other long, but I do trust you. It's everyone else that I don't trust."

"How do you mean?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow. "Not even your parents?"

"Who tells their parents everything?" Harry humorously asked, and immediately regretted it.

Hermione's face grew to such a struck look of shame and regret, clearly telegraphing to Harry that she never told her parents about the abuse she suffered through at school. The regret on his face was enough of a tell for her to accurately guess that he knew as well.

Hermione cleared her swelling throat, and with a clear tone of detachment, asked Harry, "How? How do you know?"

"...Myrtle," Harry softly replied just as cautiously. "She wanted to help the bullied girls."

"So Hilliard really was you," Hermione reasoned aloud. "I couldn't completely comprehend why I thought of you, but I suspected as much." Hermione looked away and quickly dabbed her eyes before stating, "I must seem so horribly unclean to you, don't I? Filthy, really. You clearly know what I did... with Hilliard. It feels like a seed, if I'm honest... a disgusting wretched seed that will only fester and tarnish my future, and nothing I do can stop this feeling..." Her voice was low and full of self-loathing as she unconsciously shifted away.

Harry took her hand before she got too far away and held it firmly. Though he felt sympathy pains for the ordeal she had gone through, and was still going through, he had to be careful. He wanted her to know that she was as safe as she wanted to be, but he couldn't say that she was only safe with him, because he was the most unsafe person in the world to be around.

"I came up with a concept," Harry said, chuckling lightly. "I say came upon, but it's more like Nicolas shoved a book in my hands. I assume he thought it might help me, but in truth, it's made things more complicated... not that I'd ever tell him that."

"Why's it more complicated?" Hermione softly asked with a moist sniff, eager to overshadow her shameful horridness, and learn a little more about Ares.

"Because it proposes pushing me in many ways I don't want or like to be pushed," He honestly answered.

"It sounds like an interesting book if it can push you," she offhandedly commented, still attentive to her stigma. "Why bring it up?" she asked.

Harry hesitated to give Hermione such an insight about him but, looking into her red-rimmed brown eyes and scrunched up brow, he was blinded to the rationality of keeping her away. "…It's not hard to guess I've gone through unpleasant experiences." She looked at his scars as he continued, "And for a long time, the question that burned brightest and longest in my head, is, 'why me?' Naturally, I couldn't help but ask a slew of other irrelevant questions. 'Why couldn't it have been someone else? What did I do to deserve this?' And so forth. The old book Nicolas gave me was on a Greek philosopher named Democritus. I'll assume you've heard of him?" He playfully remarked.

"I don't know everything, Ares," Hermione returned with a slant of her head and shook his hand a bit. "But yes, I can say I've heard of him. Daddy once referred to him as the widely regarded father of modern science from the muggle world, primarily remembered for his formulation of an atomic theory centuries ahead of its time."

"Five points, Mrs. Granger," Harry announced with the tone of authority, to her slight amusement. He realized that he had been holding her hand the entire time, but there was an odd comfort about it, not unlike returning to a place some might call home. It made him think, 'It's fine, if only for the moment.'

Harry cleared his throat and continued, "Democritus was a cheerful man with a profound understanding of natural phenomena. He believed the knowledge of truth is difficult, because the perception of truth is subjective, and the reality of this world isn't always happy, peaceful, or encouraging. Which means, in this world, there's heaps of shite to be sad about. Truth: the world we live in allows for bad things to happen to good people all the time. Democritus knew all of this not from a naive position of privilege who can only guess how bad things can be, but from his own travels through hardship of the common folk. And yet, the man was genuinely cheerful. He laughed—not a fake, disingenuous laugh, but real laughter of mirth. He laughed despite the despair because of how he thought of the world and how we live in it. They called it, 'Cheerful Despair.'"

"Democritus was a realist who knew humankind has a natural propensity to be greedy, to murder and to lust. We're prone to error, weakness, and cruelty, and are constantly exposed to dangers of random or planned misfortune. He was so aware of this darkness that he ultimately realized he didn't have to constantly register risk and suffering at the forefront of his thoughts in order to acknowledge they exist. In his eyes, the darkness of life is a base line of existence. He expected a variety of terrible things to happen because he believed them to be an intrinsic part of what being alive means. So whenever anything good happens, it's kind of like a bonus to him, which is why he's genuine in his elation."

"That sounds frightfully bleak," Hermione mentioned.

"I could've told you pretty words, if you wanted," Harry sympathetically conveyed. "It wouldn't have been hard, in your case, or a lie. You are smart, kind, and courageous, but like the burning questions that still plague my mind, those kind and honest words are no solace from the onus of what we've gone through. I told you about Democritus because the answers and the search for them will be your own to explore, and I respect your intelligence too much to placate you with pretty, uplifting words."

Hermione was moved by the esteem for her Ares—a prodigious student of magic and intelligence—conveyed. She took in a deep and calming breath before commenting, "So, his ideology proposes that because he accepts the world as a constant, dark and bleak existence, it makes the good things that happen in life stand out, like sharp contrast."

"Stand out, to be sure, but equally as important, the good that happened shouldn't feel like compensation for the bad suffered," Harry answered. "His ideology helped him realize the world didn't owe him a great and wonderful life, and to expect it is delusion. It's giving us exactly what it's made of, and we only gain—despite the evil—when we do our utmost ability to contend and press on."

Harry squeezed her hand for emphasis.

"...Contend and press on?" Hermione repeated to herself. "That's what you do, isn't it? 'Violence may not be an acceptable solution, but there are times when it's the only one you have,' is what you said to me once. I argued it, like an idiot, and then you said the very thing I've been unable to stop thinking about, 'there are evil men out there you can't reason with, plead with, who are infatuated with chaos,' and you were right. In my arrogance, I stupidly thought I knew better than you because I do everything I'm supposed to; listen to my elders, work hard in my studies, get the best grades, try to help others, and it never amounted to anything! I'm meant to know better because I know wizards like Hilliard are misguided and troubled and- and- and-"

'Troubled,' Harry's mind narrowed in on, and hoped for the Headmaster's sake, that this was only a coincidence of words and that the old man didn't know about her abuse.

"And nothing, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "It's not your job to worry about them. Your very first priority is to protect yourself to the best of your ability, and no one has any right to say otherwise. If you have the option to use diplomacy, than absolutely take it, but if not, believe me when I say, you do not have to be a victim, and anyone that asks you to regard the abusers for rhyme and reason like some fucking case study, deserves a solid kick in the balls." Thankfully, Hermione laughed at that, giving Harry hope she might be okay. "Because they're running away as well."

Hermione leapt from her seated position and wrapped her arms around his neck. Harry had to engage his core muscles to keep from falling back. She held him tight, and after a moment's hesitation, he returned her embrace, holding her torso to him. He noted how truly amazing, comforting, and melancholy the connection between them felt, and Harry could feel layers of stress melt away.

Still holding him firmly, she asked, "So, Democritus can acknowledge pain and suffering while delighting in the happier things life has to offer?"

"His direct quote is, 'A life without festivity is like a long road without an inn.' …Or in my case, 'A road-less thicket of dangerous forest fraught with danger,'" he joked.

Despite how serious he meant it, she chuckled hard enough to shake, and suddenly—unexpectedly—Harry registered how soft parts of her felt pressed tightly against him. When her humorously apt scent of leather, ink and parchment connected, in addition to the toasty warmth her soft body pressed upon him, their hug gave rise to a great outcry of physiological response from his rebellious hormones, infuriating Harry to no end. This had never happened before, not with her, and while he may be incredibly happy to have her in his life after everything he'd been through, he shouldn't feel this excited to have his best friend in his arms again.

In an effort to remain calm, he asked through her wavy brunette mane, "What would you call magical defense of the mind against external penetrat-"

"Occlumancy, obviously," Hermione quickly answered, scooting back to how she was seated, red-faced—likely from the crying, he reasoned—and tucking her hair behind her ear.

"...Five points," Harry stated after clearing his throat. "For the life of me I can't understand why that's not a class offered by this school, but if you're serious about wanting to expand our friendship, occlumancy will be integral to that."

"So, in other words, you're saying you are willing to trust me, but as I have no mental defense, you can't trust the odds that someone won't learn of what you tell me—be it what you had for breakfast or your family's greatest treasure—through legilimancy." When Harry nodded, her mind quickly pointed out, "But that would mean you know occlumancy."

"Many heirs or high born know occlumancy," Harry informed her with a nod. "Even the ring of the Head of House can offer minor occlumancy. But yes, that pretty much sums it up."

"How did you learn?" Hermione asked eagerly, clearly thrilled by the prospect of learning. "I don't recall seeing textbooks on Occlumancy in the library."

"You recall every book in Hogwart's library?"

"Not every book, but I certainly would've remembered one with that topic," she claimed cheerfully.

Harry noted she was starting to look better as the conversation moved further away from her abuse. He then said, "I'll lend you one of Nicolas' more effective instructional tomes on the discipline, and give you any tips you might need." She seemed thrilled at the prospect of receiving a step-by-step book that wasn't offered in Hogwarts library, and when Hermione was happy, he was calm.

—

After the first grueling weekend of Honor meetings, Draco joined Harry at the Ravenclaw table, throwing off the entire Great Hall nearly as much as 'Ares' did, but more importantly, it surprised Harry. The Malfoy scion had stopped talking to Harry when he alerted Draco of what he did in order to rush through Sirius' Honor Meet. Aside from coming at him recklessly hard during their spars, Draco avoided all optional contact, glaring at him every available opportunity. The issue brought up an unpleasant realization for Harry… he was getting used to talking with Draco—short those conversations may be.

Harry turned to him and lightly said, "Hey." Draco only nodded. The way Hermione and Luna glared at Draco made Harry wonder if he should introduce the silver-blond to them. 'Introduce him as what, though?' was an irritating thought. Draco didn't exactly fit the category of friend or enemy, and he was around him too often to be just a classmate. Eventually, all Harry said was, "This is Draco Malfoy."

"I know!" Hermione spat. "And I honestly can't believe you're friends with him."

Harry immediately looked at Draco, suddenly apathetic to what he said to Tracey in the Honor Meeting. Draco only nodded his head, as if to say, 'Yes, I said terrible things.'

"Ms. Granger," Draco began. "Allow me to formally offer my sincerest apologies for my behavior these past years. There is no excuse I can give that can erase the pain and humiliation I've surely caused you, but I give you my vow, with Ares as my witness, that I will not antagonize you ever again."

Hermione was stunned by Draco's apology and looked to Harry, who nodded to her approvingly. Luna stretched out her hand, and said, "I'm Luna Lovegood, we have Ancient Runes together." Draco shook her hand lamely as she added, "You haven't insulted me terribly, yet, so I'd be happy to help in Runes if you'd like."

While Draco did well enough in his Runes evaluation exam to join the third years, he didn't seem to have a head for Arithmancy, and so continued taking Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.

"Thanks," Draco curtly replied. "I'll keep that in mind."

It was a quiet meal and an odd week when Draco would join Harry at the Ravenclaw table or in the Library. Being with Hermione took Harry's sentiment back to his timeline, but with Draco there, he was constantly reminded of how different everything was.

At one point Hermione mentioned, "You two are the oddest sort of friends I've ever seen. Are you always so antagonistic toward one another? Because I can't see how two opposing people can still develop a friendship?"

Harry found that funny considering her friendship, and later romance with Ron. Instead he simply asked, "How's your occlumancy coming along?"

Hermione gave him a funny look of disbelief, claiming, "That information can't possibly need protection from Ligilimens!"

Harry could see her point, but regardless, he maintained his position. "Sorry, but it does. I will, however, say Draco and I understand one thing about each other, and that one thing happens to be what matters most to us. In every other way, we could very well be enemies."

"That sounds dangerously close to the enemy of my enemy," Hermione pointed out.

"The Source of Sovereign States, by Arthasastra Kautilya," Harry mindlessly recalled. "Nicolas has a duplicate in ancient Sanskrit from the 4th Century, though he never told me how he got it."

"You have to let me..." Hermione started to say before she held her urge in with what appeared to be all the self-control she had.

"You want to see their library?" Harry asked lightly, holding in his own amusement. "Well, that'll just be another good reason to learn occlumancy as best you can. Remember not to rush it though."

"'Haste makes waste,' is one of the first things I ever learned," Hermione shared with him before they split up for the day.

Running into Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Tracey, and Daphne on the way to the common room, Harry walked up to Daphne and asked to speak with her for a moment—much to Zabini's clear displeasure. She agreed, and they soon found themselves on the long bridge behind Hogwarts ,where Daphne had first asked him to help save her sister. After securing their conversation from three nosy Slytherins hiding behind the stone frame at the beginning of the bridge, Harry relayed Nicolas and Perenelle's offer to scan Astoria for any blood curse, as well as allow her to look through their library.

Harry could tell Daphne needed a moment to temper her emotions despite how reserved her graceful appearance was. She sniffed through her pretty button nose and said, "Even if there isn't a positive outcome, thank you and your family for helping her. I was slightly worried your parents might be put off to helping after meeting my father. He can be very..."

"Off putting?" Harry suggested with a bit of a smirk.

She graced him with the sweetest smile he'd ever seen on her, and she nodded before looking out to the lake.

"What's your father doing to help Astoria?" Harry asked

Daphne scoffed at the question before stating, "My father died when my mother did. The wizard you saw wearing my father's skin is nothing but a coward, who's already written off his youngest daughter simply because of a family curse. Offering her in marriage was nothing but strategic offsetting of 'damaged' assets to gain status and power... the pompous arse."

"And you don't know what it is? The curse?" Harry asked, smiling at her ire. "It'd help Nicolas and Perenelle find some kind of treatment if they knew exactly what they were dealing with."

"Mother never told me before she passed away," Daphne shared. "I've searched every book we own with no success, and father would only say there's no cure… That I should just forget about Tori—my own sister—like she's already dead!" Clenched fists, Daphne swallowed hard and took a moment to settle down before grasping for a change of topic and asking, "Were you aware Khan's been trying to gather support to teach you the error of your anti-Slytherin ways? He hasn't been very successful."

"Just because someone is down, doesn't mean they're out," Harry shrewdly pointed out, wondering more about what Voldemort could be planning at the moment, instead of what Khan might be. "I wouldn't be surprised if he tried something else."

"Agreed, but I don't see them going after Malfoy, either," Daphne reasoned. "You've trained him too well."

"I didn't really train him," Harry returned distastefully.

"You shouldn't be so modest," Daphne replied, eying him closely. "It's unattractive."

"If that were the case, I'd be the most modest wizard in the world," Harry replied with a measure of hope.

"You make it sound as if you'd prefer to be alone," she said, not with concern, but with coy skepticism. "But that can't possibly be the case considering how blatantly you broke a cardinal rule by eating at the Ravenclaw table, all so you can speak with Granger."

"Was there such a rule?" Harry asked, faking ignorance poorly to the point of mocking. "Who knew?"

"Did you tell her?" Daphne asks. "About Khan?"

"Is that your way of saying you think Khan might go after her?"

"How'd you put it? 'Just because someone is down, doesn't mean they're out,'" Daphne repeated. "If he can't get any of the girls in- ...I wouldn't be surprised if he went after your new friend."

Harry turned to her, feeling ready to hurt someone, and genuinely asked, "If he can't get any of the girls in... what?"

Daphne took a moment to gather her thoughts and frame her meaning. "Malfoy told me I would have to pick a side. After Hilliard, then losing five hundred points, I was certain you were more trouble than you were worth, and I shouldn't have any more to do with you."

"Daphne," Harry began. "I am more trouble than I'm worth, and you shouldn't have anything to do with me."

"Oh Merlin, you really do have a hero complex," Daphne asserted, eying him like the most interesting puzzle she'd ever seen. "You want to save people as well as protect them from the dangers surrounding your life."

"If he can't get any of the girls in... then what?" Harry repeated, sidestepping her interest in him.

Seemingly content with his shrug of her analysis, she answered by asking, "Haven't you noticed how all the girls are sleeping in the first year dorms? None of the Upper Order can get through those wards and more importantly, Khan—in all his detestable knowledge—can't get through those wards. The older girls are even paying the first years to sleep there. It's the best sleep most of them have had in a long time."

"Where does your sister sleep?" Harry wondered aloud, working through his acrimony.

"I put the best rune scheme I know on our rooms. It would take him hours to get through." Harry looked on, irritated by this knowledge as she continued saying, "Things are much better now. Most of the Upper Order don't want to go anywhere near the first year corridor."

"What are the odds the older years'll sleep in their own rooms again?" Harry innocently asked, already making plans to add more wards to the female Slytherin dorm rooms.

"I'm not much for gambling with inconclusive answers," she said. "I'll just say, there's not enough evidence of anything to give a proper answer. Besides, I'm far more curious to know what this hold Granger seems to have over you." He didn't look at her, but he knew she was smiling as she added, "Is it some sort of emotional debt, like you feel responsibility for not 'rescuing' her?"

Ignoring Daphne's question, Harry informed her, "I'll let you know when Perenelle has some free time to examine your sister."

"Don't you mean Professor Flamel?" Daphne corrected with a broad smile. Harry looked at her curiously, to which she answered, "Of course I know."

"Of course you know," Harry weakly repeated.

"So, they're really going to do it?" she asked excitedly, looking over the large lake. "They're going to sack Professor Binn's and replace him with Perenelle Flamel!"

"Looks that way," Harry glumly stated, apathetic to her excitement. "After more and more Slytherins stopped showing up to History, the governors, well, Lucius Malfoy had Dumbledore by the short hairs, so Dumbledore caved. Of course, hiring a disguised Death Eater to teach children didn't help."

"They hired your own mother, all so that you'd have to go to History Class," Daphne pointed out with genuine laughter. "Oh Merlin, that's so funny!"

"Yeah, laugh it up," Harry said, not at all bothered by her good humor. "You won't be laughing long when you see what a slave driver she can be. Who do you think gave me most of my scars?"

Daphne turned to him surprised, exclaiming, "You're joking!"

Harry smiled, answering, "Yeah, I am."

Though it was fun to shock her, he wasn't going to let that accurate secret go just yet. The pair said nothing more, content to enjoy the scenery as Harry waited for Nova to return.

—

With the arrival of October came the second unveiling of the Goblet of Fire. Announcing the rules to the packed room, Dumbledore took the stage with Ludo Bagman standing behind him. Taking over Barty Crouch Senior's position for the Ministry was none other than the amphibious pink fuzz, Dolores Umbridge. The delegations from Durmstrand and Beauxbaton were also in attendance.

Dumbledore announced to all, "After careful and exhaustive consideration by the Ministry, the Wizengamot, and the participating Wizarding schools, it has been agreed upon by all parties that an age restriction will be implemented, allowing only sixth and seventh year students to place their names in the Goblet of Fire."

The cheers were drowned out by the boos, and it took Dumbledore a minute to settle the room before he spoke once again. "Now, each school has selected an exemplary student to be the first to cast their name and lead all respective contenders that follow. May those three students please join us."

Harry didn't recall that happening in his timeline and paid attention as Victor, Fleur, and Cedric walked to the center of the room, and joined their respective headmasters or headmistress as well as the ministry officials.

Before they dropped their names in the Goblet, however, "Hem-Hem," somehow rang throughout the large room so that all eyes fell on Umbridge. She stepped forward, surprising Dumbledore, who reluctantly allowed her the stage. "For the few that do not know me, I am Dolores Umbridge, Undersecretary of the wonderful Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and I am here in the spirit of friendship and solidarity for all. As I will be residing in the castle for the duration of the tournament, I'd also wish to take this moment to offer a sympathetic ear to those poor souls still suffering from the hardships that transpired in this very Hall some weeks ago. The Minister wishes to reassure you, he is doing absolutely everything in his power to keep everyone safe, including stationing several aurors on the premises for your continued protection. For you all, he would even replace the Death Eater look-alike, Professor Alastor Moody if he felt it would make everyone feel that much safer. The Minister and I are here for you, thank you."

'Bullshite,' Harry thought before quickly losing interest as they all posed for a photo.

The three hopefuls then threw their names into the blue burning goblet, causing a small flash of fire each time. The majority of students clapped after each name was dropped in the flames, but seated in front of him, Harry was pleased to see Luna was as uninterested as Hermione. While Hermione was neck deep in the Occlumency book Harry lent her, Luna had been staring at her breakfast without once touching it.

As Harry slid his plate of bacon to Nova and Hedwig, he asks, "What's wrong Luna?"

Draco was inhaling his breakfast after their morning workout as Luna whimsically answered, "Oh, well, my mind is inordinately preoccupied with worry over the herd of Thestrals. Beautiful creatures don't you think?"

"I do," Harry answered her honestly. "Why are you worried about them?"

"They've grown quite restless of late," she answered. "Normally, they adore the rotten apples I feed them, but they're fairly tense at the moment and aren't eating properly. When I told Professor Grubbly-Plank, she couldn't see any way of caring for them as she can't actually see them."

"Why didn't you tell Professor Hagrid?" Harry asked, wondering if the skeletal horses truly enjoy eating rotten apples. "Doesn't he usually deal with all the magical creatures in Hogwarts?"

"Normally, yes, but he's gone and Professor Grubbly-Plank doesn't know when he'll return. This is really quite vexing," Luna gently admitted. "I'm terribly vexed."

A thread formed in Harry's mind that made no sense, but he followed the train of thought by asking, "Wait, she doesn't know where he is, or when he'll be back?"

"He hasn't shown up to teach for the past four days," Draco added in between mouthfuls. "It's been Grubbly-Plank in the interim, and no one is eager to have Big-Beard back, not even Potter," Draco added with a satirical smirk. "She's practically worshiped for saving everyone from the Blast-Ended Skrewts for cutesy animals and the like."

Harry knew Rita hadn't reported on Hagrid's half-breed status, so he wasn't sure why Hagrid wasn't teaching the class. "I'll ask Daphne, later. She might know something," Harry absentmindedly commented, bringing Hermione out of her tome.

"What's this?" Hermione asked.

"Just curious about where Professor Hagrid's gone," Harry replied and quickly remembered to add, "And why the Threstals are upset." Luna presented him with a dreamy smile of appreciation.

Suspiciously, Hermione asks, "Do you think he can be another impostor and the Threstals sense that?"

"I'm not sure of anything right now," Harry casually answered. "I'm just curious."

"I've seen him with the Headmistress of Beauxbaton a number of times," Hermione informed them. "Maybe she knows something that could help."

"Thanks, I'll ask her," Harry said before leaving the Great Hall. When Draco caught up, he asked the silver-blond, "Is there anything you were leaving out you want to tell me?"

"It might be nothing, but during class four days ago, Big-Beard stops lecturing to meet a centaur by the treeline. I couldn't hear what they were saying obviously, but he cuts class short, runs into his hut, and comes out with his dog and crossbow. Muffliato!" Draco called, wand in hand, and Harry felt odd to hear him use something he taught him, but under privacy, the silver-blond continued to ask, "You remember that lovely time in the Dark Forest our first year? Where the school knew something was killing unicorns, so they wisely sent four first year students and a chicken shite dog after it? That was the impression I got this time, minus the four firsties. Maybe Big-Beard and his mutt ran into that ghoul and it got him."

'Fuck,' Harry thought, his shoulders tensing enough to make Nova flap her wing to stay on. 'No, it's too early to know anything for certain,' he mentally corrected himself, but what Harry could say with absolute confidence was that bloody ripple in time and space he created was really starting to grate on his nerves.

"That wasn't a ghoul killing unicorns, Draco," Harry began, deep in thought. "That was Professor Quirrell possessed by the wandering spirit of Voldemort. He was killing unicorns and drinking their blood to help sustain his weakening body. It's possible the centaur could've been Firenze. Hagrid's sort of an unofficial peacekeeper in the forest, so they come to him when there's a problem."

"Merlin's balls," Draco gasped. "Wait you don't think-"

"Don't know anything yet," Harry quickly interjected. "But you can be bloody sure I'm going out there to find out. Tonight."

"Okay, what's the plan?" Draco asked resolutely.

Eying the stern boy, Harry warned, "Draco, it's very possible this might be-"

"I can only hope," Draco interrupted, with a very clear edge to his tone.

Harry could feel Draco's anger, and though he didn't think Malfoy was ready for that kind of action, he wasn't going to govern his decisions. "Fine," Harry said. "But remember, he's better than you. I don't want you to lose your head, and charge in like some brain-dead git. Play to your strengths, and even if he is stronger, it doesn't guarantee you'll lose, or, well, die. You already know his favorite curses. Train your mind to think of unexpected counter tactics."

Before heading out, however, they had to attend a day's worth of irrelevant classes, which Harry would have gladly skipped if he thought there was any chance of spotting whatever was out in the forest during the day. Also, his decision to be a good student in some ways was influenced by Perenelle's first day as Professor for History of Magic.

Currently, Harry sat in the stadium-style classroom with all four houses of fourth-year students in attendance. Hermione sat with the Slytherins in the very front next to a reserved Harry. Daphne had taken the seat Draco usually took, forcing the silver-blonde to sit next to Tracey and Zabini in the elevated level behind them. Harry was more focused on the teachers scattered around the highest level of the stadium seating. Severus Snape stood next to Lily and Flitwick. McGonagall, Babbling, and Sprout were conversing among themselves. Headmaster Dumbledore stood among his professors but did not engage in conversation.

Directly in Harry's line of sight, he could see that the old man was keen to know what Perenelle would talk about, which was odd because she had submitted a syllabus to the Headmaster and the Governors for approval. While the other professors seemed merely curious for curiosity's sake, Harry could easily assume Dumbledore was only here on the off chance Perenelle might shed even more light on how they knew about Tom Riddle.

Busy as Dumbledore had been the past few weeks reassuring the governors, the Wizengamot, the British, French, and Bulgarian Ministry, the International Confederation of Wizards, as well as the public outcry that there was no longer any threat to the students, foreign or domestic, on Hogwarts' grounds; the revered wizard still found time to try and question Nicolas, Perenelle or Harry about what they knew. He had been rebuffed a number of times, but it wasn't until all three Flamels were in Nicolas and Perenelle's personal chambers hosting Dumbledore to tea as he attempted, yet again, to get them to talk, that they decided to say more.

—

"I honestly can't fathom why you insist on this line of questioning when that Death Eater is still at large, and the school is not completely secure," Nicolas shared with a hint of frustration. "This just isn't the time for old news, young man."

"It is simple, my old friend," Dumbledore began, setting down his tea. "I am aware of details that might, with your assistance, put certain important events into perspective."

Perenelle took her slice of Dumbldore, stating, "This castle has not proven itself to be the safest place in magical Britain—as you've so claimed—and instead of ensuring that our heir along with the sons and daughters of other parents are safe from this madman, you want to know how we learned the dark lord's given name? This is absolutely absurd!"

Nodding in stride, Dumbledore admitted, "Perenelle, I understand that you are worried for-"

"No, Albus, I don't think you understand, at all," she cut in. "It's not worry that's keeping me up at night. It's the fact that my son might have incurred the wrath and vengeance of a Death Eater and the safest place for him to be is in seclusion with us. But instead of securing your defenses, you're having tea with us, asking about a dead man's name. It doesn't instill me with a great vote of confidence."

"If you would but trust me," Dumbledore tried to placate her. "As you have in the past-"

"You mean like when we entrusted you with our stone, that was destroyed under your care?" Nicolas asked with an edge. "Do you mean 'trust you' like that?"

"That was most unfortunate," Dumbledore ruefully stated. "And I've apologized from the depth of my heart for the destruction of your stone, but I'd ask of you now, can we not all agree that it was a most unfortunate outcome, so that we may look towards a more productive future? I am asking you to trust me, not simply because of our friendship, but because this knowledge could very well help save the life of an innocent."

The Flamels looked at each other a moment before Nicolas asked, "Who is this innocent you believe will benefit from such a simple piece of word play?"

Furrowing his old brow, a confused Dumbledore asked, "Excuse me?"

"Are you a fan of anagrams, Headmaster?" Perenelle asked. "As you know, Nicolas loves them, and it wasn't until Ares asked who the man behind the great name Voldemort was that we soon realized there wasn't much, if any, information on the Dark Lord. Our investigation—academic as it was—led us to stumbled upon an astounding connection."

Harry handed Dumbledore a piece of parchment with the writing, 'I Am Lord Voldemort,' on it.

"You've always been a smart lad, Albus," Nicolas toted as Dumbledore looked over the parchment with strained brows. "I don't doubt you'll solve it before long. Now, if you'll excuse us, I'd like to continue helping my darling wife prepare for her first day."

—

It didn't take Dumbledore long, nor did it deter him from trying to ask the Flamels more about what else they had uncovered in their research into Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was almost as if the man who held all the secrets didn't trust anyone to hold onto theirs. Watching the man over the stacks upon stacks of new History Books on the professor's desk, Perenelle took her place in the front of the class as the student's sole focus.

"Hello one and all, and welcome to History of Magic," she calmly started. Harry oddly noted Lily waving to Hardwin, who, though embarrassed, gave her a small wave back. "I am Perenelle Flamel, please call me Professor Flamel, or Professor. There are a few things that need to be said before we embark on this educational journey together. The very first is as the Headmaster announced during breakfast: all of your first period professors have been gracious enough to impart thirty minutes of their time with you so I may give you all a rough outline of what we'll be covering throughout the year. Which means, if History is not your first course of the day, you'll only be here half an hour before returning to your normally scheduled class. The rest will stay.

Thus far, everyone was paying close attention to her, which was a stark contrast to one of Binn's lectures. Harry could feel Hermione's excitement as she leaned forward in rapt attention. On his other side, Daphne was much more calm and reserved. Harry simply slouched in his seat, arms crossed, in disbelief all of this happened so he'd have to come to class.

"Next," she continued. "As interesting as Goblin Rebellions and Giant Wars are—and it's true, they are interesting—I wouldn't exactly call them the most significant events in magical history. While I'm certain Professor Binns did his level best to detail the events of our shared past, I've been brought in to push us further to the very boundaries this curriculum has to offer-"

"And to make sure Ares goes to class!" a Gryffindor that sounded a lot like Ron called out, to the great laughter of many non-Slytherins in the room.

Harry didn't let it bother him as Perenelle turned to the Gryffindor section, and in a carefree manner, asked, "Who said that?" Many of the Gryffindor's look around or at a very stern McGonagall, not willing to rat Ron out. "Come now," Perenelle continued. "Surely, it takes less courage to admit it after you've already said it. Isn't this the house of the brave I'm speaking to?"

That seemed to do the trick and though looking very reluctant, Ron was about to raise his hand when Hardwin—who was seated beside him—stood up. "It was me, Professor," he said. Many eyes were split between Hardwin, Perenelle, and a stone-faced Lily.

"Mr. Potter," Perenelle called. "How selfless of you to cover for Mr. Weasley. Now, I would take five points from Gryffindor for disrupting class and interrupting my lecture, but you can certainly make that up in the next class, couldn't you? Instead, I'd like you to please come to the front and do twenty-five push-ups."

"What?" Hardwin bellowed, many in the class looking around confused. Hardwin glanced at Dumbledore before returning his focus on Perenelle. "I- That's not the rules. And you can't make me."

"I most certainly can't make you do push-ups, despite how easy twenty-five of them ought to be for a boy who plays quidditch," Perenelle agreed. "However, it is in the rules that I can take as many points as I'd like from your house. It can be as low as one, or as high as one thousand. I believe the Slytherins are still minus a hundred and seventy points simply to return to zero. And that's even after a Slytherin saved many lives in the Great Hall some weeks back." Nearly all the Slytherin's glared at Dumbledore for his insistence on Ares' punishment despite acts of heroism. Perenelle asked Hardwin, "How long do you believe it would take Gryffindor to come back from a thousand point deficit simply because you don't have strength enough in you to do twenty-five push-ups?"

The other houses were in awe or humored by Perenelle's stance, despite the Headmaster being in attendance. Gryffindors watched on in shock, but several were looking at Dumbledore or McGonagall for help. When none was forthcoming, Ron stood up, scandalized, and called back, "You- You can't do that! That's house discrimination! Clear favoritism!"

"Yeah!" some voiced in agreement, looking at Dumbledore to back them up.

"No, Mr. Weasley," Perenelle told the redhead, ignoring the Headmaster or the other professors. "As the headmaster and every professor watching knows, it's perfectly within my power to take as many points as I like, or Mr. Potter can do a menial task as punishment for the disruption. Because unlike points, push-ups can not be absolved by another professor in their class. So, what say you, Mr. Potter? And do be quick about it. I'd like to continue the lesson."

Lily stared at Hardwin sternly, who then stood up and grumbled to himself as he made his way to the front. Anger clear on his face, he began doing his disciplinary push-ups before Perenelle continued as if never interrupted. "As I was saying, significant events in magical history. To have a comprehensive understanding of where we come from—that is to say—where our values, our legal and political system, our society and its culture come from, we must look at examples of our strengths and our weaknesses, and ask ourselves: what do we really know? Something that may be bad now, could've started off as something favorable, or useful, to society. An example; how many here are familiar with the Killing Curse?"

Nearly every student raised their hand. When Perenelle caught Harry, arms crossed and slouching, she tilted her head, eying him as if to say, 'Really?' Harry slowly sat straighter and Perenelle continued. "Good. I think we can all agree it's a most terrible curse, but I'm certain not one of you can tell me who invented it. A hint: it wasn't a Dark Lord." No one—not even Hermione, who was completely dumbstruck—raised their hand. "Ares?" Perenelle asked. "I can feel your burning spirit for class participation."

Ares tilted his head, eying her as if to say, 'Really?' With her raised eyebrows, he lamely answered, "Helga Hufflepuff," to the sheer gasp of every Hufflepuff in attendance.

"Five points to Slytherin," she called out before quickly adding in a lower voice, "Less sass next time." She turned to the properly surprised room, and continued, "Don't be upset if you weren't aware. I've been to enough of history's book burnings to tell you what may have once been written down, doesn't always stand the test of time. We'll study more on Helga—along with all the founders—at a later date, but in the interest of time, I'll simply say Helga Hufflepuff had a gift for food-related charms."

They all listened in rapt attention as Perenelle explained, "And in order to kill livestock as humanely and painlessly as possible, she invented the killing curse. To be clear, she never intended to use the curse on humankind, nor was it named the killing curse to begin with. 'Kedavra' an evolution of the word, 'Cadaver,' which means, 'Corpse,' derives from the Latin 'Cadere,' or, 'To fall.' The Killing Curse's original name was the Cadere curse."

Perenelle gave the stunned room a moment to digest the outrageous information about Helga Hufflepuff. The students also seemed to appreciate Perenelle as well as the ease by which she spoke with them, as if they weren't simply students, but young adults, responsible enough to know such serious information.

"Ares, would you be a dear and pass out the textbooks?" Perenelle asked sweetly, as a red-faced Hardwin finally finished his twenty-five push-ups. Harry gave her a tired look before capitulating to her request. Harry walked over to the forty or so textbooks stacked on her desk. Instead of taking a stack and passing them out by hand, one by one, Harry used wandless magic to exercise more focus and control on his summoning and banishing charms by slowly sailing book after book to each student.

Despite his impressive feat of magic, Perenelle continued saying, "This year, you will learn a number of historical facts and events that have altered the course of magical history in revolutionary, and or bloody ways. I will not make light of this subject and solely focus on teaching about history's greatest heroes, their intellectual discovery, or their magical feats. Because your education wouldn't be as comprehensive if you also didn't learn about the Dark as much as the Light. You will learn about history's greatest villains as well—the Dark Lords, and their contributions to the annals of wizard kind. And make no mistake, they have led to some of the greatest innovations to date. So, prepare yourselves and welcome to the study of magical history."

Her bow felt a bit dramatic to Harry, but she received a standing ovation nonetheless.

—

"Your mother is an absolute joy!" an excited Hermione couldn't help but share with Harry as he, Daphne, Draco and Tracey exited the classroom.

"She does inspire a thrilling passion to learn," Daphne noted from Harry's other side.

More preoccupied about the Forbidden Forest, Harry couldn't pretend to be as elated as Hermione and Daphne, and so, he came off as bothered by the entire affair.

"How can you be so down?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious. "She's the best professor that class has ever seen."

"He's just butt-hurt he won't get to skip class, anymore," Draco teased, though his mind was also in the Forbidden Forest.

Though Harry will miss playing and training with Nāga during that free time, he instead replied to Draco, "It's not about going to class or not, you discount Veela." Turning to Hermione, he confessed, "I've already memorized the textbook. I'm just thinking about Professor Hagrid, is all."

"Why?" Daphne curiously questioned. "I've been told he's as comfortable in the Forbidden Forest as we are in the castle. I'm certain there's nothing to worry about… unless you think he's the danger."

Harry considered his words, and after a moment of silence, Hermione asked, "Is it safe to assume that you can't tell us why you're worried, because we're not proficient in occlumency?"

"Speak for yourself, Granger," Daphne said with a smirk. "I've been trained in Occlumency since I was eight. You're the only one here at a disadvantage. If you're really Ares' friend, you'll excuse us so he can speak freely."

Irked by how calmly Daphne shrugged Hermione off, Harry stopped walking, looked around the hall and the portraits, and walked into the nearby empty classroom, calling for all of them to, "follow me."

Once they were all inside the empty and dusty classroom, Harry gave Daphne a stern look before turning to Hermione and saying, "Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil."

Hermione nodded a second before she easily answered, "Aristotle." Her eyes grew wide when she asked, "Please don't tell me Nicolas was friends with Aristotle as well?"

"No, he wasn't alive yet," Harry answered lightly. "But according to Perenelle, he went through a phase."

"So why say-"

"Why say, indeed?" Harry interrupted looking at her sternly, willing her to grasp what he knew she was capable of deciphering.

Hermione looked around the room, apprehensive to perform with an audience, but she trusted Ares, and reverse-mapped his puzzle aloud out. "…Well, obviously the quote is to allow me access without actually giving it. In the quote, evil is rather subjective. It's more apt to say ill-intent or unpleasant results than evil. That quote explains that expecting pain or trouble can be as bad as what you may perceive of as 'evil.' And while you've never explained specifics to me before, because I'm not an Occlumens—as of yet—you've always given me enough to make my own accurate assessments. The deviation in this case, however, is that you don't know what the unpleasant result might be, or you would've said, which means you have a bad feeling that something's going to happen, but you don't know what." With an easy smile, Harry nodded in the affirmative, pleased. Hermione smiled herself before asking, "Would that also mean you want us to be more cautious?"

"It may be nothing, but…" Harry trailed off, allowing her sharp mind to fill in the rest. She nodded before departing to her next class. Harry turned to Daphne and said, "You may want to remember that while you've had many more advantages than her, it in no way impairs her ability to use her mind effectively."

Looking at him in astonished disbelief, Daphne questioned, "You really do like her, don't you?"

"Regardless of who I associate with, your life would be better off without me in it. I'm the farthest thing from safe you can possibly be." Harry turned to exit the room before he added, "The Flamels will of course still help you, so never doubt that."

As he reached the door, Daphne called out, "So, why continue to associate with her then? If you're so dangerous?"

Harry sighed before admitting, "Because she outright refused to leave." He then left for his next class, Daphne watching him go with a hint of distress on her delicate expression.

After a few seconds of silence, Draco said, "It's like I told you, Greengrass; he doesn't do half measures. You're going to have to decide—just like Granger did—if you're all in, or not. Personally, I think he likes you, not that he'd ever admit it, but it explains why he'd rather keep you away. Those scars really aren't for show."

Draco extended his hand out for Tracey, and the bubbly blonde exited with him, leaving Daphne to her thoughts, alone. As Draco extended his hand to Tracey, the bubbly blonde flashed him a flirtatious smile before they walked out of the empty classroom together, their footsteps echoing in the silence. As the door closed behind them, Daphne was left alone in the dusty classroom, the only sound her long exhale.

—

"Why is it the easiest thing in the world to find something when you don't want to find anything, and to find nothing when you want to find something?" Draco asked as he and Harry walked out of the Forbidden Forest well into the middle of the night. In the nightly search of the forest, the wizards hadn't found anything more than a wide variety of hungry, nocturnal predators—some of which they had to flame away to avoid death.

"As always Draco, your company is an absolute bloody joy," Harry said sarcastically. There was enough nighttime to get a few hours of sleep before their morning work out, but Harry was already considering changing their routine to accommodate nightly searches. It didn't seem likely that whatever was attacking Unicorns—if, in fact, anything was attacking Unicorns—was going to need another feeding session so soon, but Harry didn't want to chance missing it.

Not much changed through the month of October—not until the night prior to Halloween. Harry and Draco had taken to splitting up when Harry was certain Draco could search the forest alone without dying, though they still met every two hours.

The night before Halloween, confirmation finally happened on Draco's search of the woods. He came across a completely cloaked entity, feasting on the still quivering flesh of a beautiful Unicorn. The skirmish that ensued between Draco and the ghoul was short, and before Harry could arrive at Draco's signal, the ghoul had escaped.

On Halloween, in the Great Hall, Harry, Nicolas, Perenelle, and Draco stood well away from the spectacle of the large gathering as Dumbledore prepared to draw the names of tournament's champions. They were discussing the results of their search through the forest under many privacy charms at the empty teachers' table.

"I can't believe a whole month of combing through that fucking forest, and all we have to show for it is a dead unicorn," Harry groaned dejectedly to the group.

"Hey, I could've died with that unicorn," Draco hotly reminded him. "That ghoul was fast, strong, and it flew! I couldn't get a single curse to land before it disappeared."

"It wasn't a ghoul," Harry returns, unsympathetic to the silver-blond's near brush with death. "Taking Unicorn's blood exactly like in our first year can't be a coincidence. But at the rate Quirrell's body was disintegrating, he couldn't have lasted this many years."

"Which can only mean it's someone else," Nicolas reasoned.

"But who?" Draco asked.

Perenelle suggested, "We can always get a pensieve and look at the memory."

"That might help," Harry estimated, with a tinge of hope. Turning to her, he asked, "How fast can you get one?"

"We have an old one in Sweden," Nicolas remarked. "But it no longer functions and we never bothered to get a new one. It's not wise to dwell in the past, which is a very easy thing to do in our case," he added by way of explanation. "I'll place an order first thing tomorrow."

Many meters away, Dumbledore called out to the entire assembly of students, foreign and domestic. "And now the moment we've all been waiting for!" he boasted. "The selection of the TriWizard Tournament Champions!"

Ignoring the spectacle, Perenelle asked her quasi-son, "Harry, were you aware that Ms. Greengrass stayed after class one morning, rather troubled?"

Draco and Nicolas paid attention, and Harry looked confused, but he answered, "Uh, no. Was it about her sister? Did something happen?"

"Something did indeed happen, but not concerning her sister. " she replied, shaking her head with a measure of playfulness. Harry became worried as she continued saying, "I think the earliest I'll be able to examine her sister properly will be the end of November—as I had informed her. No, Ms. Greengrass was troubled by something else—something you said to her just about a month ago." Harry quickly understood he wasn't going to like this. "Concern-mixed curiosity would not allow her to think of much else until she ultimately decided to simply ask me about you."

"Perenelle?" Harry began, his tone laced with worry. Perenelle looked directly behind Harry, and when he twisted around, he noted Hermione and Daphne shuffling through the bunched up crowd toward them. Harry turned back to Perenelle and desperately asked, "Please, please, please tell me whatever you told her took into account that she's safer away from me?"

"And Ms. Granger?" Nicolas asked him curiously. "I see you two nearly as much as you and Mr. Malfoy."

With a sigh and slump of his shoulders, Harry explained, "Out of every person I've ever met, Hermione was the one who stuck by me through everything." Harry took a quick look behind him and saw that the girls were getting closer to them. He continued to tell the Flamels, "This Hermione seems to be no different in that regard, and she told me as much."

"Be that as it may," Perenelle began. "Ms. Greengrass seems as keen to know more about you as Ms. Granger."

Hermione and Daphne stepped onto the elevated platform for the teachers table and walked to the group. Harry looked at the Flamels sternly before turning to the approaching girls. Harry expanded his privacy charms to include them as the pair stood before them, as if presenting an essay.

Eagerly, Hermione happily told Harry, "Occlumancy is one of the most challenging skills I've ever had to learn, but absolutely worth it!" Taking a deep breath, she serenely stated, "I can feel such clarity and efficiency in my thoughts and memory! I thought my mind was effective before, but now... it's like a dynamic evolution."

"I'm happy for you," Harry replied with a genuine smile. "But you know you didn't have to."

"I most certainly did," Hermione hotly returned, bright brown eyes staring intently into his with the same loyalty he was honored to be the recipient of in the previous timeline. "And I have all of you to thank for it—minus Malfoy, but including Daphne." Harry turned to the crystal blue eyed blonde while Hermione explained, "She approached me, and apologized for what she said—then offered to help me. She's been helping me this whole month."

Daphne hadn't said a word while Hermione spoke her mind, but Harry could see she wasn't employing her occlumency, making her apologetic regret easily readable.

"We talked—properly talked," Hermione continued. "And while I may not know the details, I feel confident that Daphne is a good person to rely on and be friends with."

Harry exhaled loudly, to the point where one might confuse it with a sigh. He extended his right hand and placed it on Hermione's forehead. Warm to the touch, he allowed his magic to flow as he stared into her chocolate eyes to check the strength of her mental defenses. While she had much room for improvement, they were just barely strong enough for only a month and a half of training.

Harry also noticed that she had taken his advice and woven a unique pattern that was significant in its meaning and arrangement within the shield. It was a subtle defense in case of legilimency followed by obliviation. The pattern didn't defend against either, but when the victim regained consciousness, the witch or wizard would know something was wrong if the pattern wasn't the same.

"They're solid enough to know if someone is trying to enter your mind," Harry estimated. "But it won't keep a strong legilimens out. If you continue to work on it, it won't be long before you get there."

Harry removed his hand as Hermione gasped and stated, "You know legilimency as well?"

"Only a little," he responded before turning to both girls. "You're both too smart—too curious—to leave matters that you don't belong in well enough alone. If you don't understand, let me clarify it for you. My life is akin to charging head-on towards death, which puts everyone around me in immediate, untold and mortal danger. Nicolas, Perenelle, Draco; they know being around me can very easily be a one way road and have made peace with that. And whether you would or wouldn't have a similar determination, you shouldn't have to."

Dumbledore dimmed the torches hooked to the columns around the grand room—emphasizing Harry's words—and the blue light from the roaring goblet's fire spread throughout the room effortlessly. Dumbledore slowly placed both palms on the surface of the magical goblet before declaring to all, "It's time!"

"You're right," Daphne retorted. "We're both very smart, and it doesn't take a genius to see that your life is very dangerous. The Great Hall battle is proof enough of that."

"And it's obvious that wasn't the only one," Hermione interjected, and it was clear she was referring to the glowing green eyes of the Green Reaper. He looked away a moment as the flicker of red light signaled a slip of parchment being expelled from the goblet. "It's clear you've been in a number of battles for your very life. We are not ignorant of that fact."

"The Durmstrang Champion," Deumblerdor called. "Is... Victor Krum!"

A great booming cheer erupted from the Durmstrang students along with every Victor Krum fan in the room, as Daphne continued to say, "What you don't seem to understand is that we're not just studious to have the best grades and get a good job. We're looking for meaning... for the very essence of what matters in this world."

A victorious Victor Krum passed them as he entered the antechamber just past the teachers' table. Another blowout from the Goblet, then a piece of singed, gentle-looking blue parchment floated to Dumbledore's hand.

"If just knowing was enough for me, I'd stick to just reading books," Hermione asserted with unwavering eyes. "But there's a wisdom about the text you can only truly learn through experience. The burden of knowledge has always been a source of strength because it protects, empowers, affects the world on a fundamental level. That's what I want. To impart great change."

Dumbledore read the pretty blue paper before calling out the next name. "The Beauxbatons Champion is... Fleur Delacour!"

While the Beauxbaton students mostly seemed upset by the announcement, nearly every male in the grand room cheered a great symphony of lively glee. She obviously captured the heart of every male in attendance.

"I'm going to be an Unspeakable after Hogwarts because I need to know the secrets of this world more than anything," Daphne stated. "Granger and I have intellect enough to create lasting change—good or bad. We understand the monumental dangers involved with the responsibility of that knowledge and we accept them. I think I can speak for both of us when I say we've accepted that responsibility long before we met you, and I guarantee you if it wasn't you now, it would've been some other powerful wizard later."

They seemed adamant to Harry, so he decided to impress upon them a little more of how dire tangling themselves with him would be. Eying them both, Harry explained, "The evil anticipated in this case, is absolute evil by every metric."

As they professed their unwavering commitment to seeking the truth, his mind raced with thoughts of how to quell their insatiable curiosity. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't conjure any solutions that didn't involve crossing ethical boundaries. He fixed his intense gaze on them, hoping to convey the gravity of the situation with his eyes alone.

"Who do you love most?" he asked them, his eyes never leaving theirs. "Think about them, their faces, their laughter, because you'll be putting their lives on the line as well as your own."

Fleur passed them on her way to the antechamber. She dazzled his grim gaze with a smile and a wink, which quickly morphed to curiosity at the serious sight of him, before reluctantly entering the designated waiting area.

"I can't completely make you understand how incredibly dangerous my life is without telling you what a shit show it's been. The loss that I've suffered since infancy is as constant as it is great, and worst of all, not of my control. I'm like a magnet for this, born under some terrible star from which there is no escape. I won't hurt you, I won't obliviate you, and I'll do my very best to make sure you're always safe, so I'm begging you, please let that be enough."

Hermione and Daphne looked at one another, nearly convinced but not quite there yet. Hermione said, "I already told you I don't abandon my friends."

"If I run from the harshness of this world now, I'll always run from it." Daphne asserted. "And I don't run."

Two pieces of parchment shot out of the Goblet, drawing an extra portion of Harry's keen attention. Dumbledore caught both singed, brown parchments in each hand, and looked at each piece, clearly speculative before his voice boomed throughout the room, "The Hogwarts Champion is... Ares... Flamel."

The room turned stone silent as they all turned to look at Harry; many were shocked, but so too were many faces angrily looking at him as he slumped his head down, shaking it from side to side in sick disbelief. And in the absolute silence of the room, his voice rang out, sullen with incredulity, "Fuck me..."

---

An event occurred this week that made me so glad part of this chapter was written from the last update. And that event is Avengers Infinity Wars! I'm not ashamed to say I saw it three times already. Yes, I am a nerd.

But I had to pull an all-nighter to get this one done. So if there are any mistakes or grammar issues, I apologize, but my lack of self control with that movie would be why.

I did however enjoy writing Hermione's conversation with Harry which made it a breeze to go through. Democritus is a real person for those who don't know. My GF was the one who sent me the link to him so I was glad to have read it, cuz it really helps with Harry and my plans. It offered steady foundation for me to build upon.

Daphne was fun to write in this chap too.

And of course Harry had to be the Hogwart's champion. At least Cedric lives... maybe.

Thank you all again for your support, reading my fic and taking the time to comment. I truly appreciate it, and until next week :)