Quick Author Note, I usually do this at the end, but I wanted to say that this story is now in the process of being uploaded on Ao3! It is a little slower, as I am having each chapter beta-read, but if you want to give the more edited version a read, it will be on Ao3, which you can find in my account.
Don't worry, it's just grammar and spelling
"You sure you'll be alright there, Harry?" Ron asked as they turned a corner in the dungeons. It was dingy down here, and with Harry's first Occlumency lessons today, his two brothers decided to tag along.
"Ron, dear, you've asked me that seven times now." Harry said in a high pitched voice.
"Well yeah, I know, but with what you told me when we got back, I'm just worried about you, prat." Harry laughed softly.
"I promise, I'm fine. Thank you for walking me all the way here." Neville nodded, silent. He was worrying Harry. He hadn't said much since dinner.
"Neville? What's up?" Harry asked the boy. Neville shook his head.
"I'll tell you later, the both of you, I promise. Just, not right now." Ron shrugged, patting Neville on his shoulder with a smile. Harry gave his friends a quick hug, then ventured into the dungeon bats office.
The room was shrouded in an eerie stillness as moonlight filtered through the short windows of the potion master's rooms. They were magic, of course. How could moonlight reach this hell? Severus Snape stood before the Pensieve, his dark eyes fixed on the swirling memories within. The decision he was about to make weighed heavily on him, but he knew that he had no other choice. He would teach this goddamn brat, then he could rub it in Dumbledore's face that Potter was useless.
As Snape gazed into the Pensieve, he felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his chest. He had heard the boy enter, and here he was, alone with a child that was biologically his. He whirled around, expecting to find a face full of anger. Expecting to see James Potter. Instead, he saw a boy that looked so much like him. So much like Lily, especially when he had that quizzical look in his eye.
"Potter."
"Professor."
"I hope you're prepared. Legilimens!" Snape casted the spell.
The intrusion was swift and uninvited, a silent trespass into the sacred sanctuary of another's mind. Snape's consciousness delved into Harry Potter's memories, navigating through the labyrinthine corridors of the young wizard's experiences. Flashes of bright lights, laughter, and moments of warmth brushed against his consciousness as he ventured deeper.
But as Snape delved further, he encountered barriers – walls erected by Potter himself to protect his most precious memories from external intrusions. Except-! The magic surrounding them wasn't Potters. It was darker, more sinister. He knew this magic, he knew it well. These barriers were formidable, a testament to the Dark Lord's skill as a Legilimens. Snape's brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to breach the defences, his wand movements precise and deliberate.
Suddenly, the memory landscape shifted. Snape found himself standing in a dimly lit chamber, the air heavy with foreboding. In the centre of the room stood Harry Potter, his posture tense, eyes narrowed with suspicion. Snape could sense the resistance radiating from the young wizard, an instinctual urge to protect his innermost thoughts. This boy wasn't the Potter he was standing in front of, oh no. He was younger. In clothes far too big and a body far to frail. It was a wonder Potter was even standing.
"You won't find what you're looking for," Harry's voice echoed in Snape's mind, a defiant challenge.
Snape's lips curled into a sardonic smile, his own determination unshaken. He began to walk slowly toward Harry, his steps deliberate, his gaze unwavering. "You underestimate me, Potter," he hissed, his words like a venomous serpent. "I am a master of the mind arts. Your barriers may be strong, but they are not impenetrable."
As Snape drew closer, the room seemed to darken further, shadows lengthening and swirling around them. The tension in the air was palpable, the clash of wills like a storm gathering on the horizon.
Harry's eyes blazed with an unexpected fire. "I won't let you in," he declared, his voice firm with resolve. "You might have your reasons, Snape, but this is my boy's mind, and my sanctuary. You won't violate it."
"He isn't your boy." Snape spat. "Quit with your tricks Potter! You won't scare me out of your mind."
A surge of raw magic crackled in the air as the two forces collided – Snape's formidable Legilimency skills pitted against Harry's unyielding determination to protect his mind. The struggle was fierce, an ethereal battle of minds and wills that reverberated through the room. Harry's magic and the dark lords mixed with perfect sequency, winding and pulling and twisting around each other. If he truly let his magic attack, He would tear the boy's mind apart. He'd likely be thrown in Azkaban, so that wasn't an option.
Snape's wand hand wavered for a moment, his conflict apparent in his eyes. And then, with a reluctant sigh, he withdrew his wand and stepped back, his connection to Harry's mind severed.
Harry slumped from his knees to the floor.
"Up! Potter, get up now!" Snape demanded. Harry struggled to push himself up, arms shaking. The magic swirling around him wasn't his magic. No, Snape hadn't even encountered his own shields, his own illusion! Harry and Neville had spent so much time on it too.
The room fell silent once more, the tension dissipating like mist in the morning sun. Snape's shoulders slumped as he turned away, his gaze averted from the trembling boy.
"Those weren't my shields." Harry said, frantic. "That wasn't what me and Neville worked on! It's not, what did you do to me!" Harry yelled at Snape, fury and fear evident in his eyes. Pathetic, Severus thought, that this boy could somehow share a shred of his blood. He was too emotional, too wide eyed, too much like Lily like Potter.
"Why are you acting like a fool, Potter?" Snape asked in a condescending tone. "You know as well as I do who's in your head." Ice filled Harry's veins.
"It's not Voldemort." Harry shook his head, shock slowly settling in. "It can't be, it feels too different."
"Ah yes, your odd ability to feel magic." A trait which he shared with Severus. He didn't comment on the boy saying that devastated name.
"It's not- again. Do it again. Those aren't my shields." Snape sneered.
"Obviously not, Potter. They are far too calculated to be yours. Legilimens!"
As the spell left Snape's lips, his eyes locked onto Harry's with a piercing intensity. The invisible force of Legilimency began to probe, seeking out the chinks in Harry's mental armor. But this time, Harry was ready. His mind was not defenceless, left to that evil magic to protect it.
Suddenly, a shimmering barrier materialised around Harry's consciousness. It was an illusion, a mirage of shifting colours and patterns, like a protective cocoon. Snape's Legilimency spell collided with the barrier, causing ripples of distortion to ripple across its surface.
Snape's eyes narrowed, detecting the unexpected resistance. He pushed harder, his mental assault relentless. But the illusion held firm, its colours becoming more vibrant and hypnotic in response to Snape's attempts.
Inside his mind, Harry concentrated on maintaining the illusion. He visualised his emotions as swirling colours within the barrier, focusing on the memory of a calm lake surrounded by serene meadows. He drew strength from the image, reinforcing the barrier's stability. It was Neville's plan, afterall. Smart, amazing Neville.
Snape's frustration was palpable. He had not expected the boy to employ such an unconventional strategy. A stagey almost the exact same as his. He redoubled his efforts, his magic pulsing against the shield.
"Do you believe your little trickery will be enough to stop me, Potter? Your mind is a maze, and I am its master."
As Snape's words echoed in Harry's mind, cracks began to form in the illusion's façade. The colours wavered, and for a moment, Snape seemed on the brink of breaking through.
Harry's magic exploded around them, throwing Snape from his mind and pushing them both into different sides of the room.
"Idiotic boy! If you had just maintained your shield-"
"You were hurting me!" Somewhere in Snape's body, his small heart thumped in guilt. He ignored it.
"If you had just held out, you wouldn't risk blowing up your own moronic mind!"
"Oh, sorry father." Harry said venomously. "It's not as if you are supposed to be teaching me or something."
Snape saw red.
"Never! Do not ever utter the word father in front of me again! I am not your father!" Snape roared, magic rearing back like a snake, ready to attack Harry's own. The moment their wills collided, everything seemed to stop. Their breathing, hearing, and thinking. Harry was the first to regain movement in his limbs. He shot out of the room like a bullet, avoiding the state of the man in front of him.
Neither one noticed the room was destroyed, nor the soft flames that lingered at Severus' desk.
A trip to the Gryffindor common room had never been made so fast.
"Oh Harry, you're back early!" Hermione said when he burst into the common room. She was reading, but Harry's mind was far too scrambled to notice what it was.
"Where- where are they?" Harry said with a pant, winded from his run to the Gryffindor room. A look of confusion flashed in her eyes before realisation settled on her features.
"Up the stairs, I think they were gonna go wait for you." Hermione said quietly. Harry nodded and raced up the stairs. No one paid him any mind.
"Oh- Harry you're back! Is everything alright?" Harry shook his head, running into Ron's arms. His head laid down on the redhead's shoulder, and even though he didn't sob it was a near thing. "You and Neville both." Ron muttered.
"Harry?" Neville asked quietly. Harry just opened his arms, letting the boy into their hug.
"I think I'm going crazy." Harry whispered. If he hadn't whispered it his voice would have cracked, and the flood gates would open.
"You aren't crazy, Harry." Ron said instantly.
"I am, guys I don't know what's happening to me- VOldemort is inside my head and- Oh god." Harry's shoulders shook with repressed cries. "I don't know what's going on inside me anymore. It's like I've been poisoned.
"It's just like second year, with the diary. I know it sounds crazy, but... I've been having these visions, these dreams. It's like I'm seeing things from his perspective. His anger, his desires. I can even feel his presence sometimes, like a whisper at the edge of my thoughts. No, not just that, it's like he's in my thoughts. He's infecting me, my magic, I can feel it." He took a shaky breath.
"And the worse part is, I can't bring myself to hate it."
"What do you mean, mate?" Ron asked, shoulders tense.
"Just now with Snape, he was there, Ron. He protected my mind from Snape. It was so- I can't even explain it." Harry let out a quiet, hysterical laugh.
"I've felt it too, Harry." Neville said quietly, stopping Harry's thoughts immediately.
"What?" Neville scratched his head aggressively. They said nothing for a few moments and Ron herded them to their joint bed.
"I've been having dreams, dreams of Death. He says things to me sometimes." Neville muttered. Ron held up a hand.
"What do you mean, 'dreams of death?' How can an action speak to you?"
Harry and Neville shared a look, and filled Ron in on the ritual that happened. Ron's face held a lot of conflicting emotions, but soon determination set in his features.
"When can I join?" Ron said. Harry and Neville broke into matching grins. It reminded Ron of the twins. Harry and Neville were more connected then Ron would be with either of them, connected on a more spiritual basis, but Ron didn't mind like he used to. It just felt right.
That night they all dreamed the same thing.
The Forbidden Library is dimly lit, its shelves lined with ancient tomes and dusty scrolls. Ron Neville Harry stands alone in the eerie silence, a faint sense of unease prickling at his skin. His eyes are locked on a mysterious, ornate book displayed on a pedestal at the centre of the room.
The book seems to radiate an unnatural aura, its pages flickering with unsettling shadows. Neville Harry Ron's gaze is drawn to it, as if it's calling out to him. He steps closer, his heart racing in a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.
As Harry Ron Neville reaches out to touch the book, his fingers tremble. He hesitates for a moment but then feels an inexplicable compulsion, an almost magnetic pull that makes him grip the book and open it.
The air is thick with an ominous energy, tendrils of darkness wrapping around him like fingers of a ghostly hand. He can feel the darkness seeping into his very core, stirring something within him that he's never felt before.
"What is this place?" They all whisper. Separate and yet the same. Three beings cut from the same tattered shred of cloth.
The shadows seem to respond, whispering in a haunting chorus of voices. They swirl around him, like malevolent spirits trying to ensnare his soul. Words swirl around his head, all different but all hearing the same.
His (theirs? They didn't know) eyes widen as he starts to feel a strange exhilaration, a surge of energy coursing through him. His surroundings warp and twist, becoming more sinister and surreal with each passing moment.
Despite Ron Neville Harry's resistance, the shadows seem to entwine themselves around their thoughts, blurring the line between Neville Harry Ron's desires and the darkness whispering to Harry Ron Neville.
Only just, my sweet. Only just.
"Potter!" Harry heard one afternoon. Neville and Ron weren't with him like they usually were. Since their shared dream, their shared experience of having sick magic twisting in their bones, they all decided that some time apart would be good. "Your boyfriends aren't with you today, Potter. Scare them off?"
"Why, Malfoy? Wanna ask me out yourself?" Harry retorted. Malfoy flushed an awkward red, and his grip on his wand tightened.
"You'll get what's coming to you soon, Potter." Draco promised. "And when you do, I'll take down Longbottom and Weasley with you."
"Draco, I thought we were doing better than this." Harry said with an eye roll. "You can't beat me in a duel, you think your little master can?"
"You only won on technicality, Potter, and you bloody know it. The next time we duel, it will be to the death."
"If Umbridge wasn't there, it would have been." Harry snarled. It was full of anger and venom, shocking both boys. Could Harry really say something so cruel to a boy his age? A boy who only knew what his parents had preached? Yet Harry was angry. Angry at Voldemort for doing this to him in the first place, at Malfoy for trying (and succeeding) to rile him up, and at Neville. Neville was the one who insisted that time apart was going to be a good thing, but here Harry was, worse off than ever. He hoped Neville knew the state he was in.
The air crackles with tension as the two adversaries face each other. Their rivalry is etched in every line of their postures, every glint of their eyes.
"Difindo!" Draco is the one to cast first. It catches Harry in the arm, but he manages to cast a quick healing spell on it. Hermione insisted he learn them. He conjured a few stones, sharp and pointy. He aimed to harm tonight.
"Repelundo!" Harry casts back, the stones flying towards Malfoy. A shame, Harry thought, that one of them didn't embed itself in one of Malfoy's pretentious eyes.
"Liberes Caneos" An amber spell shot out at Harry, quickly transforming into fiery claws. He recognised it almost immediately, and quickly cast it counter, Liberes Camchelo. Water met fire, and their hallway filled with steam. Not that it mattered to them, of course. They kept casting, spells and shields coming up from all areas of the spacious room.
"This ends now, Potter." Malfoy said in a low voice. It was loud enough for Harry to hear, and laughter bubbled out of his chest. Somewhere, in some other place, he would have said the same thing.
"Oh, how noble! Draco Malfoy, the hero we never knew we had." Draco snarled at Harry, casting another spell, this one bright yellow in colour.
Without further warning, Harry sends a spell flying. Draco deflects it effortlessly, his wand motion fluid and confident, but filled with emotions.
Sparks fly as spells collide, illuminating the corridor with bursts of colour and light. Harry's disarming charm meets Draco's stunning spell midair, the two forces struggling against each other. The force of their magic sends a shockwave, causing nearby torches to sputter.
Draco's lips curl into a cold smile as he steps up his attack, sending a barrage of curses at Harry. Ducking and dodging, Harry counters with a stunning spell that narrowly misses Draco.
"Tut tut, what is happening here boys?" Both stop in the tracks, half muttered spells quiet on their tongues. "Detention for the both of you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy."
"Professor, surely-" Malfoy began to say, probably going to claim Harry attacked him.
"Mr. Malfoy, you attacked Mr. Potter first." Another voice sounded. McGonagall! He was saved.
"Exactly right!" Umbridge's saccharine voice rang in the hallway. Harry barely withheld a wince. "My office, the both of you."
Harry and Malfoy followed, McGonagall giving him a hard, yet sympathetic look. He was attacked first, afterall. Maybe Harry could tell her what Malfoy said, get some points removed from the prat.
Umbridge's office is adorned with pink frills and kitten plates. She sits behind her desk, an amused smirk on her lips.
"Duels are strictly forbidden within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. I trust you two were not causing any harm? We have a duelling club, after all. Could you not have waited until next week to, ah, settle your differences?"
"No, Professor. We were just... discussing some things." Harry said, resigned. "It just got a little heated."
"Yeah, just a friendly chat." Malfoy snarled. Harry's hand itched for his wand. Professor Umbridge's smile became more patronising.
"Well, let this be a lesson to you both. I shall keep a watchful eye on your behaviour from now on. Detentions will be assigned for any further transgressions. Potter, stay behind for a moment." With one last glare at the blonde, Malfoy locked out, leaving Harry alone with this defence professor. Maybe this was the part where she tried to kill him?
"Harry, may I call you that?" Harry nodded dumbly. "I must say how proud I am of you for not ending his life right then and there. The cover up of an heir's death is always such a horrid affair."
"Pardon?" He asked, his brain coming to a stop.
"I saw how you were looking at him, Harry." She purred. "I could sense the magic thrumming from within your wand, ready to escape out of it. I come from a long line of wand makers, you know. Very easy to tell." She stirred her tea.
"Professor.." Harry was ready to scream that it wasn't true, that he wasn't going to actually harm Malfoy, but a thought flashed in his mind. A shame that one of them didn't embed itself in one of Malfoy's pretentious eyes.
Harry had wanted to hurt Malfoy. He wanted to harm him. A dark mass in his chest swirled with giddiness. The same feeling as when he would go flying. Maybe he should do that.
"You don't have to lie, Harry." She said with a small giggle. It made his stomach turn. "You'll be a proper dueller one day, oh yes. Maybe even come and serve the Ministry." She let out a small sigh. "Best be on your way, Harry. Don't want you to be caught out after curfew." She patted his cheek, the way he once pictured his mother would.
He vomited the moment he had left the classroom and knew he was alone.
It had been a week since he had last talked to Ron and Neville. They weren't talking to each other. Harry found himself paired up with Hermione in class now. He loved his friend, but she wasn't Ron, she wasn't Neville.
Instead of studying with the pair, which he had tried, he found himself at the quidditch pitch. It was too awkward in the library, and Daphne had told him not to come until they all figured out their problems. So, he hadn't come back.
On this particular day, as he trudged across the grounds of Hogwarts with his broom in hand, anger and disappointment gripped his heart like a vice. The weight of recent events pressed down on him, and he longed for a way to break free from the turmoil that threatened to consume him.
He reached the Quidditch pitch, its emerald grass glinting under the golden rays of the sun. The stadium stood quiet, devoid of the usual cheers and laughter that accompanied the thrilling matches. With a determined expression, Harry swung his leg over his Firebolt, his fingers gripping the smooth handle with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.
With a powerful kick, he shot into the sky, leaving the ground behind in a rush of wind and exhilaration. The cool breeze tousled his hair and stung his cheeks as he soared higher, leaving the worries of the world below. The feeling of the broomstick between his legs was both familiar and comforting, a connection to a simpler time when Quidditch was the centre of his universe.
As he circled above the pitch, the familiar layout of the Quidditch goals came into view. The three towering hoops stood like sentinels against the backdrop of the castle and the surrounding Forbidden Forest. Harry's grip on the broomstick tightened, and he leaned into a sharp turn, his body responding instinctively to his movements.
He picked up speed, the rush of air drowning out the chaotic noise in his mind. With each twist and turn, he felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. The adrenaline coursed through his veins, pushing aside the anger and disappointment that had plagued him. For those moments, it was just him, the broom, and the open sky.
He flew with a renewed sense of purpose, darting between the goalposts and imagining each hoop as a hurdle to overcome, each twist and dive as a metaphorical escape from his troubles. The rhythmic beating of his heart matched the cadence of his flight, and his thoughts began to clear as the physical exertion demanded his focus. He noticed someone standing below, but he couldn't make out who it was. He touched his head to bring down his glasses, but they weren't sitting on top of his hair.
Up in the sky, Harry found a fleeting sense of freedom. The world below seemed distant and insignificant, and the burden of his emotions lightened. The anger that had been gnawing at him began to dissipate, replaced by a newfound clarity. He couldn't force Neville and Ron to talk to him, but he could force himself to be around them, in their presence. All three of them knew that they were stronger around one another, but right now they just couldn't be around each other. So, if Harry just let them get used to his presence-
No! Bad Harry! That wasn't how you got your friends to be near you again. That was manipulation, something Voldemort would do!
Revulsion filled him.
As his head immersed itself in more horrid thoughts, Harry gradually lowered his altitude. The feeling of the broomstick beneath him was no longer an escape, but one of realisation and dawning. He couldn't go the same way he had been going before.
"Harry." He heard. He turned around. It was Hermione, waiting for him to finish his flight. He grinned at her, happy to see her but not in the highest of spirits.
"What's up?" He asked as he dismounted his broom. She gasped. Hermione had started noticing of course but-
Harry looked so much like Professor Snape.
He was getting taller, that much was obvious. He was well fed and constantly active now that he was out of the Dursley's residency. Mrs. Weasley and Sirius had made sure to stuff him full of food. His hair too! It was long, but unlike Professor Snape's straight hair, it had a wild bit of curl to it. Hermione figured that, if she had ever known Lily Potter, it would have looked the exact same as hers. His jaw line echoed Snape's completely, and though his eyes and nose screamed another parent, every other feature was entirely his fathers.
How had she not noticed before?
"Hermione? Yoohoo?" He waved a hand in front of her face. She batted it away with a cheeky grin.
"Sorry, I was thinking of our charms assignment, which is due this evening by the way." Harry grinned at her.
"I know, I got it done. Scouts Honor."
"You aren't a scout, Harry." Hermione said with a playful eye roll. The pair linked arms, walking back to the castle as Harry banished his broom back to his trunk.
"So, what's up Hermione?" Harry asked. The girl sighed.
"I really didn't want to be the one to come and get you, but Ron isn't talking to Neville and- well Neville wants to talk to you."
"Oh." Harry said nothing for a moment, keeping his head down as they continued walking. "I suppose I should go see him."
"Only if you want to, Harry." Hermione chimed in softly.
"I do. I'm just incredibly angry." He admitted. Before his friend could ask why, he continued talking. "I told them something personal about me, about my life and whatever the hell is happening to me, and Neville suggested we just don't talk. And Ron went with it! Didn't even ask him why, just agreed! I couldn't even go and see them after what happened with Umbridge."
"It hurts your feelings." Hermione said.
"Yeah, it bloody fucking does." Harry said, venom evident in his tone but not directed at her. His magic was spiking, rearing its ugly head out like it had done all week.
"Do you think it will help? Talking to Neville, I mean." She asked. Harry shrugged, wiping his runny nose. It was so cold in Scotland. He casted two quick warming charms on them.
"I don't know. I guess we'll know after we talk. Is Gryffindor tower blown up? Then probably not." Hermione let out a derisive snort.
"I'll see you after my Prefect duties, yeah?" Hermione asked quietly. Harry nodded at her, and the girl made her way back down the moving staircases. Harry took a deep breath and entered the common room.
"We need to talk." Was the first thing Neville said when he saw Harry. Harry let out an angry bark of laughter.
"Of course we do, after almost two weeks of not speaking to me?"
"I needed to see-"
"See what?" Interrupted Harry. "See how volatile I am without you? How much of a wreck I am when you and Ron aren't near? I can't keep living in a constant state of anger, Neville!"
"That's exactly what we needed to check." He heard Ron pipe up from a few feet away. He was leaning against one of the bed frames. Harry hadn't even seen him.
"Well yay you guys! Had your fun, did you?"
"Harry- will you just sit the fuck down and listen for once!?" Neville exploded in anger. It shocked Harry, but he tried his hardest to not let it show on his face.
"Fine." Harry didn't sit down. None of them commented on it.
"Your magic is acting as a renewable source for us. It's why we've all been so miserable without you. Something in your magic is connected to ours, or in your person is connected to us. That's why we needed to see how we'd all react. I told Ron but-"
"So you can tell Ron but not me?" Harry verbally shot at him. Neville at least had the courtesy to wince.
"We figured it would be better if you didn't know, so we could get an accurate reading on your emotions." God, he was starting to sound like Hermione. Or like he was treating Harry like one of his plants.
"So you hurt my feelings for some bloody data? How thoughtful."
"Mate, it was just a couple days." Ron said dejectedly.
"Yeah, the worst days ever! My magic is constantly stuck between exploding and just not being there! I almost couldn't cast in charms today!"
"We didn't wanna hurt you, Harry." Neville said.
"Well, you did. So, congrats." Harry sat on his bed, now disconnected from the others.
Gryffindor tower didn't blow up. Hermione was thankful. It was awkward, but, by the end of their talk, their beds were pushed together once again
"Come on Harry! You gotta give it a try!" Ron encouraged. They were sitting in their practice classroom, and Harry was working on his illusion magic. So far, he could make his illusion last 3 hours.
His illusion was also able to grab and hold things if he flexed his magic just right. It was incredibly taxing, but it would be useful. Especially when Neville-
"Petrifiatis Intimior." Neville casted. The spell was a blinding white. It moved incredibly fast, but the moment it came in contact with Harry's illusion, it encased it softly. As the spell slowly covered his illusion, he started to feel a soft pull in his naval. Nothing strong, like apparition or portkey, but it was there. It connected him to his duplicate, his twin in a way. He wondered if Gred and Forge felt the same way around each other. Flex your fingers, he thought. The illusions finger twitched. More, he kept thinking. Give it more.
Neville, too, was pushing his magic into the illusion. Give it life, he thought, make it see.
Ron, never one to be left out, was carving tiny runes into a piece of cloth. Life, Breathe, See, Hear. He placed it into the solidifying shoulder of the illusion.
Just a little more…
The hand on the illusion raised up.
"Way to go, Harry!" Ron high fived him and Neville. Harry just brought the two into a hug. It was still a bit tense between them, especially with Harry being considered an anchor. Hermione and Neville were going to go look in the library this coming weekend. Harry had the big quidditch match against Hufflepuff.
Harry missed Cedric. He knew they would have had a new seeker anyways, as Cedric was graduating, but it still didn't fit right in Harry's heart.
"Come on! See if you can get it to walk!"
And walk it did. All the way to potions. Which was their next class. Which was starting in a few minutes. And Snape had already seen Harry and sneered. They were fucked. Hopefully Snape wouldn't notice.
"Potter! Your chopping is atrocious, five points from Gryffindor!"
And in pure Harry fashion, the illusion chopped off its own finger.
There was a lot of screaming, especially when Harry began to dissolve into particles of magic. The grin on his face was manic, and Neville thought it looked a lot like Sirius' own smile.
Totally worth the two months of detention.
The Quidditch pitch was buzzing with anticipation as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams prepared for their much-awaited match. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the stands and the emerald field below. Excitement crackled in the air, and the crowd's cheers echoed against the towering castle walls.
The teams lined up on the field, their vibrant robes billowing in the breeze. Harry Potter, adorned in his scarlet Gryffindor robes, mounted his beautiful Firebolt with a focused determination. His heart raced with a mix of nerves and exhilaration, the same feelings he'd experienced during countless Quidditch matches before. The snitch fluttered in its golden glory at the centre of the pitch, awaiting release.
Madam Hooch's whistle pierced the air, and the Quaffle was released into play. The game had begun.
Harry soared into the sky, his broomstick responding to his every command. The wind whipped through his hair as he gained altitude, scanning the field for the telltale glint of the snitch's wings. Below, the chasers and beaters from both teams engaged in a fierce battle for Quaffle possession, darting between each other with lightning speed.
Gryffindor's chasers weaved a pattern of coordination and strategy, moving in perfect harmony. The red and gold streaks of their robes cut through the air as they executed passes and feints, aiming to score against Hufflepuff's skilled keeper. The audience erupted into cheers as Gryffindor's chaser, Katie Bell, scored the first goal of the match with a precision shot.
Meanwhile, the bludgers whizzed around the field, controlled by the beaters who expertly swung their bats to keep them away from their own teammates. The thuds of the bludgers colliding with wood resonated through the air, a constant reminder of the danger and intensity of the sport.
Harry's attention remained split between the chasers' dynamic plays and his hunt for the elusive snitch. He banked to the left, narrowly avoiding a bludger that was hurtling towards him. In the distance, he spotted a flash of gold as the snitch darted between the players. Determination burned in his eyes as he descended, speeding toward the tiny, fluttering target.
Back on the ground, the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff supporters cheered and jeered, their excitement creating a symphony of noise. The tension in the stadium was palpable, the outcome of the match hanging in the balance. The score was tied, each team having successfully scored multiple goals, but the match could tip in either direction depending on the snitch's capture.
Harry's fingers tightened around his broomstick handle as he closed in on the snitch. The wind rushed past him, and the world seemed to blur as his focus narrowed to the minuscule, darting form before him. With a burst of speed, he stretched out his arm, fingers brushing against the snitch's golden wings. It danced just out of reach, teasing him as it changed direction.
A collective gasp rose from the stands as the snitch spiralled upwards, prompting Harry to ascend even higher in pursuit. The sun's rays glinted off the snitch's wings, creating a dazzling display of light that contrasted against the azure sky. Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he willed his broom to go faster, his determination unwavering.
As the match entered its final moments, Harry's perseverance paid off. With a perfectly timed dive, he closed the distance between himself and the snitch. His fingers closed around the tiny, fluttering ball, and a surge of triumph surged through him. The crowd erupted into cheers, the stadium filling with a thunderous roar of celebration for Gryffindor's victory.
Harry flew back to the ground, the snitch clasped tightly in his hand. The taste of victory mingled with the sweat on his brow as he landed, his heart still racing from the exhilaration of the match. The hufflepuff seeker was no match for his broom, or his skill, and it made him think of Cedric. He always thought of Cedric when he played a game.
Harry missed the boy more than he could comprehend. They weren't close, they weren't even dating! He dated Cho (who, as Neville pointed out, was making goo goo eyes at Harry)! Yet Harry missed him. He found himself thinking of him at the worst moments.
"Bloody hell Harry!" Twin one said. Probably Fred. "That was one hell of a dive."
"You say that every game." Harry said with a grin.
"Doesn't make it any less true." George said. Probably.
It didn't matter, Harry needed a shower, and then he needed to curl up in bed and die for a few hours. He wasn't sad or anything, besides missing Cedric. He just wanted too.
It was sunny outside, and Harry stretched like a cat beneath the sun. He didn't feel like talking much today, too overwhelmed with classes and what not, trying to decipher Umbridge's sugary-sweet words. She was evil, that much was true, but she also thought she knew Harry, and that could work in his advantage. Maybe.
The lovely Black Lake shoreline was the ideal location for a peaceful lunch on a hot, sunny Hogwarts day. On the grassy bank, a big chequered blanket was stretched out and ornamented with a variety of delectable snacks and beverages. The atmosphere was filled with laughing and conversation as Harry, Ron, Neville, Hermione, Daphne, and Blaise congregated nearby.
Harry leaned back up onto his hands, enjoying the gentle breeze that ruffled his hair as he looked out over the sparkling waters of the lake. Ron was digging into a plate of sandwiches with his usual gusto, while Neville examined a potted plant he had brought along, discussing its magical properties with enthusiasm.
Hermione sat cross-legged, a book propped open on her lap as she alternated between taking bites of a freshly picked apple and joining in the conversation. Blaise reclined comfortably, his signature nonchalant demeanour contrasting with the serene scenery around him.
Daphne, her long, silver-blonde hair catching the sunlight, poured cups of chilled lemonade for everyone, her smile bright as she engaged in the chatter. Her presence added an air of elegance to the gathering, her refined manners contrasting with the casual atmosphere of the picnic. She had come out of her shell a lot since the start of their fifth year, and seeing her smile amidst a bunch of Gryffindors was amazing. Harry thought she was beautiful, smiling like that. Same with Hermione, her hair pulled up out of her face for once. She had finally let Daphne get a hold of it, and the so-called Ice Queen took it as the sign of their friendship. Hermione, Daphne, and Neville were never far from the library, just as Blaise, Ron, and Harry were never far from their classroom.
It took a long discussion, but Harry had finally allowed them to introduce Hermione, Daphne, and Blaise into their (now warded, thanks Ron!) classroom. Daphne had called it disdainful, Blaise had just scoffed, and Hermione brought along enough books to last a year. Still, when one of the boys was casting magic, they all couldn't help but look up. Especially when Ron worked on his warding. Powerful explosions happened all the time. Whether they be from light, fire, air, water, and even lightning once! But when Ron managed to succeed, the wards intune with his magic, everyone was enthralled.
Harry was so happy to have all of his friends, happy and in one place together. If the year continued like this, everything would be perfect.
"Is it time, brother?" Death asked Time.
"No not yet, another lullaby."
And Death slinked away, hiding his glee,
Because you can out run Karma, but not those who See.