Chapter 100 of The Laughing Slytherin. Can you believe that we've made it this far? It's pretty wild, all things considered. More so in knowing that this story is still going strong. Going to start writing 147 soon. Geez. Can you imagine this story reaching 200 chapters? (Then again, with the way GOF is being written, it might actually happen by the end of that year. Holy shit!)

Here's to this hundred, and a hundred more!


Being in Naples, it was only natural that Harry and Sirius were interested in seeing Pompeii and Mount Vesuvius. It was a sentiment that wasn't shared with the Salvatore family, so Chiara ended up being the only person to join them. "You will understand when you see it," she explained vaguely. Indeed, it was mainly the offer to hop on Sirius' broom that convinced her to join on the excursion

Under the safety of notice-me-not charms, the pair of brooms arrived at Pompeii with little trouble. Sirius hid the brooms close to the entrance, and the wizards walked inconspicuously towards the ticket booth. The same could not be said for their muggle companion.

"Beh, guarda chi è!" The aged ticket seller called out with a grin. "Piccola Chiara Fermi!"

"Ciao, Lorenzo. Come va?"

A flurry of Italian passed between the two muggles. The wizards stood dumbly, waiting to be called upon… for a very long time. Eventually Chiara got the tickets and handed Harry a map.

"Friend of yours?" Sirius asked.

"We used to work together," she answered. "I worked here as a tour guide when I was young. It helped me practise my languages."

"Languages, plural?"

"German and English, back then. I have more now," she said casually. "My company operates across Europe, so I need to speak many languages to work with our clients."

"Impressive!"

It was more impressive as they walked through the ruins. Even without being here in ten years, Chiara knew her way around Pompeii as if she were still a tour guide. The map wasn't even necessary, Harry realized, she had only given it to him as a souvenir. Meanwhile, she weaved them through growing crowds and guided them to all of the best spots (and water fountains, as the temperature climbed during the day).

When they reached The Garden of the Fugitives, it finally dawned on Harry why no one else had wanted to join them. Laying on the ground before him was a line of bodies. "Plaster casts of bodies," Chiara had explained, as the real bodies of children and adults had long since rotted after being buried alive. His eyes drifted to the other tourists in the room.

Something must have given away his emotions, as Sirius asked, "You okay, Harry?"

"It's like Potter Cottage," he said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't just 'some place'. This was a tragedy. People died here. Yet," he gestured to the living, "we're all here just gawking at it. Like it's just here for our entertainment. Like people didn't suffer and die and leave nothing behind except statues."

An odd, knowing smile quirked on Chiara's face. "Not many tourists understand that." After a pause she asked, "Want to leave? I know other fun places."

"That would be nice," he said in relief.

As they walked down the old roads Chiara asked, "What is Potter Cottage? It's not a place I've heard of in England."

An awkwardness fell over the wizards. "It's… my old home. Where I lived with my parents before they were killed."

"Killed?!"

Harry and Sirius gave a quick summation of the war that ended ten years ago, and how it ultimately led to the events at Potter Cottage. "And ever since then the Ministry took control of the deed and they have the cottage on display like these ruins. We've been trying for over a year to take it back, and we're close, but it's taking forever."

"That's ridiculous!" Chiara shouted something else in Italian. "These people of yours have no class. Honestly, you should just shake your stick and them and make them give it back to you."

Sirius barked a laugh. "Trust me, I've been tempted to! Maybe I should stop by the Minister's home to give our case a personal touch."

Harry looked down, shaking his head at his godfather's ridiculous threat. He went to make a retort, only to stop in his tracks as his eyes caught onto an odd shape in the road.

It took a few steps for the others to notice. When they did, Sirius called out to him in a lightly apologetic tone. "Pup? I was just joking, you know. You don't have to worry about me storming Fudge's house."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I know that." Harry hopped in his step, glancing behind himself as he did.

The odd movement caught Sirius' attention, encouraging him to walk back. "What is it?" Then looking down, he, too, paused in his step. "Is that…?"

Harry let out a light raspberry of air. "Pfft! So it's not just me."

Both looked down at the road. Particularly at one of the stones with a slightly elevated carving on it. A smooth feature that was clearly intentional; that absolutely, most definitely… looks like a shaft and balls.

"Oh, that," Chiara snickered once she saw what they had found. "You'll find more if you follow where it's pointing."

"Pointing?" Sirius asked. Beside him, Harry's cheek burned at the concept.

"To the brothels of Pompeii. There are a lot of these throughout the city."

Sirius joined in with the snickering. "This was normal back then?"

"The Romans were very different people," she waved dismissively. "Brothels were legal, then."

"What a shame," Sirius muttered. Catching Chiara's judging expression, he quickly amended, "Not that I would ever go, of course. I just mean- you know-"

"Mhmm-"

"I'd never need to go to one. What with my dashing good looks-"

"-all of the women fall for you?" She said with a tease.

"Of course!"

"Hmm. Of course, I hear there are not many wizards. Witches have few options."

Sirius looked incredulous, giving an open, disbelieving smile. "Oh-ho! Is that what you've heard? Maybe you just haven't met many wizards."

"My sister has a whole family of wizards shaking their wands at each other all day."

"Well I think you'd find I am very talented with my wand work," he said smugly.

Chiara gave a snort of laughter. "What makes you think I'm interested in your little stick, wizard man?"

"Little stick," he parroted before grinning. "Maybe that isn't your cup of tea, but how about you hop on my broom and I'll show you a real magical time?"

"Ha! So it's a broom, now, is it?"

"I mean if we're comparing sizes. If you don't believe me you can always check for yourself-"

At that point Harry crossed the street, his face bright-red as he tried to tune out the adults' embarrassing conversation.


After dinner, Marcello invited Harry and Sirius to his private sitting room. It was something their host insisted on when Sirius tried to make an excuse. Consequently, Sirius was quite tense as they entered the room. More so as they heard a swish of spells placed against the door.

"Did you seriously just lock us in here?"

"Privacy spells and one to keep others from entering. You can leave whenever you wish."

"In that case-"

"If you can wait until after we're finished." The man looked back at them with that stern addition. With the last spell placed, he turned to face them. His eyes narrowed slightly, thinking over something which Harry couldn't discern. "I lost my arm to save Dumbledore's life."

"WHAT?!"

It might be his imagination, but Harry thought the man gave a slight smirk at Sirius' reaction.

"He and I discovered the location of another horcrux," he said. The statement had Harry's blood run cold. "Together, with one Alastor Moody, we retrieved and destroyed it." Marcello walked further into the room, towards an armoire, as Sirius took in the news.

"There was another- but how? And how many are there?"

Obscured by the armoire doors, Marcello answered. "As far as we can guess, he's completed the ritual five times."

Five times. Harry shivered. He's killed and destroyed people's souls five times! Intrinsically, he knows that Voldemort is a murderer. He murdered Harry's parents and countless others. That said, seeing the horcrux ritual in person, hearing the scream of a dying soul, it's given him a sense of horror for something far worse than death.

"Most have been destroyed," Marcello continued, "and the last will soon follow." He closed the door and walked over to them. "But that is not why I brought you here. I need to give you this." He held a closed fist towards Harry. Almost on reflex, Harry held a cupped palm underneath the fist. When it opened, a small, black stone fell into his hand. "It's the stone that was attached to the ring horcrux."

"This is a horcrux?" Harry asked in alarm.

"Was a horcrux. Fortunately the ritual was imbued into the ring's band. The stone, however, remained safe."

Harry inspected the stone. He looked over each of the eight sides, finding it mostly uniform, aside from a strange symbol seemingly drawn inside it.

Beside him, Sirius asked "What's so special about the stone? Is it a family jewel?"

"Yes and no. The ring was an heirloom of the Gaunt family." The reveal brought a comment of disgust from Sirius as Marcello continued. "Though the stone itself originally comes from another family. The Peverells."

"...I think I've heard of them," Sirius mused quietly. "Not sure why, though."

"As I understand it, the main family no longer exists. However, aside from a few distant descendants, there are three members of that family whose memory lives on through a British children's story. It's called The Tale of the Three Brothers."

Sirius' body snapped in shock. "Wait, what?!"

Even Harry was confused by that. He's read that story before. "That's the one where the brothers are tricked by Death, right?"

"Correct. Though, as I recall, the youngest brother outsmarted Death and passed on his cloak of invisibility to his child before accepting death." Marcello gave a knowing smile.

Sirius, however, paled significantly. "But- that's just a story," he laughed nervously. "I mean, we all joked with James about-" His mouth snapped closed. He then nervously tapped a pointing finger over the stone. "You're trying to say that this is the Resurrection Stone?"

"I am," he replied. Taking an audible breath, he added, "and I know for a fact that it works."

"Really?!" Harry asked. "How do you know?"

The smile he gave them was a pained one. "There is… a lot of tragedy in my old line of work. A lot of death, and a lot of loss. I confess I was… tempted. A chance to prove its abilities, and a chance to say goodbye." He looked away from them, ashamed.

Harry looked back to the stone in his hand. A wave of emotions flooded into him. A chance to say goodbye. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Because this stone is not meant for me," he answered. "Its power, its temptation, is a terrible thing. It's not meant to be in the hands of just anyone. Better that it be used by a descendant of the third brother. The one wise enough to both outsmart Death and greet them as a friend."

That comment confused Harry. "What do you mean by a descendant-?"

"-Your cloak, Harry," Sirius answered. "Your father's cloak, and his father's before him."

"You mean I'm-?" Harry didn't finish the question. Instead he paused, allowing the information to seep in. Perhaps it's not too strange. Being related to one of these Brothers is like Slytherin and the Penny Riddle, right? That thought, and others, occupied his mind. So much so that he didn't notice the way his godfather glared at Marcello. Nor the way both mouthed a quiet, accusatory exchange. As the thoughts settled, the original wash of emotion returned. "How does it work?"

"You have to turn the stone three times while thinking of the people you wish to speak to." Harry started to do just that when Marcello stopped him. "It may be best if I leave first. I'm sure you both wish for some privacy."

Biting his lip, Harry nodded at the point. "I'd appreciate that, thanks."

"You are welcome, Harry. Though, a word of caution, those you bring back will not, cannot, stay. Your time with them is precious. Treat it as such."

Agonizing as the warning was, Harry fought the urge to reject it. "I will. Thank you."

The man stepped out of the room. The external locking charm renewed as he did so.

"Harry…" Sirius spoke nervously. "Are you sure?" The boy nodded. "Should I… should I wait outside?"

Harry shook his head. "Time is precious, he said." He grasped onto Sirius's hand with his own. "We both deserve a chance to talk to them."

Hearing those words, Sirius tried -and failed- to blink back tears. The words "Thank you" whispered between them.

Letting go of Sirius, Harry twisted the stone in his other hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. A shimmer of magic took hold within Harry. Two shimmers of light coalesced before them. The figures were not quite solid, yet far more tangible and colourful than ghosts. One was like looking into a lightly fogged reflection. The other had red hair and green eyes whose misty appearance kept them just at the edge of vibrancy.

An echo of a sigh came from her smiling lips. "Harry! My Harry!"

"Mum!" He ran forward, eyes half-blurred with tears, arms wrapping around nothing but cold air. The chill barely fazed him. Only the lack of contact made it to his awareness. Arms still around himself, he looked up at his mother's pained face. "I'm sorry. I should have realized-"

"It's alright, sweetheart," she assured him. The chill wrapped around him. Her own arms lingering around him as if they could touch. A third chill formed over his head.

"Mum…" He looked over to the man beside her, "Dad…" His father smiled, one hand overtop Harry's head affectionately. "I miss you both so much!"

"We miss you, too, son," his father said. "Look at you! You're so grown up." He looked over at Sirius. "You did good, Pads. You're the best dogfather we could ask for."

"James…" There was pain in Sirius' voice. "I screwed up, James. If I hadn't gone after Peter that night-"

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Sirius. I know why you did it. Believe me, brother, if our places were switched I'd have done the same. …Of course, then any baby you'd have had would have ended up with your brother or, worse, your mother."

"Now that's a terrifying thought." An awkward chuckle came out of Sirius.

The commentary caught up with Harry. "Have you… have you been watching us this whole time?"

"It's… complicated," his mum answered. "We see as much as we can. I'm sorry, it's not something we can explain."

"That's alright." He doesn't want to waste his time talking about death, anyways. Life, their lives, that's what matters. "Can you tell me about what it was like when we lived in Godric's Hollow?"


With no way of knowing when their time would end, Harry asked question after question about his parents' lives. First the questions were broad, overarching things or life lessons they wanted to impart on him. Then, with their assurances that things were fine, he moved on to greater detail. He asked all about his mother's life (which gave Sirius the chance to speak one-on-one with his bond-brother). He heard her dreams and aspirations, funny stories of her childhood. They even exchanged moments about Professor Snape (including a few that would likely get him in detention should he repeat them in Snape's hearing).

Afterwards they switched partners. For Harry, he already felt closer to his dad from various "conversations" with the Marauder's Map. But this, speaking to him in person, Harry finally got to learn more of his father as a man. How he changed from rapscallion to Head Boy, and later as a brave fighter of the Order (and, yes, his dad did jokingly lament that Harry wasn't a fellow Gryffindor. Though he got plenty of praise for the various pranks he's done over the years.) With time permitting, Harry also got to learn about his Potter grandparents. What life was like at Potter Manor when he was a boy. Better yet, when Harry explained the project he had in mind, his dad informed him of blueprints to the old ruin locked in the Family Vault.

With thanks, and teary words, the four were finally able to do something denied to them for twelve years. A chance to say goodbye.

When it came, Lily and James Potter faded from view. Their smiles etched into Harry's mind. In the finality of their departure, Harry leaned his body against Sirius. A pressure on his shoulder confirmed Sirius doing the same.

"Thank you for that, Harry," he said quietly. "You have no- wait, no, you're one of the only people who understands how much that meant."

Harry couldn't answer that. The lingering presence of his parents weighing on his heart. "I won't be able to do that again, will I?"

"You probably can," his godfather answered. "That said, you saw how they were by the end of it. It almost seemed like they were in pain."

Harry hummed. He noticed that, too. Their discomfort was the only reason he was willing to say goodbye when he did. "Maybe I'll try again in a few years. I'll wait for a special occasion."

"Good idea." A moment of silence passed between them. Then, making an uncomfortable sound, Sirius spoke again. "Can I… give that stone a go?"

The question made Harry feel awkward for reasons he couldn't describe. That said, he still answered, "You can borrow it. Can I ask who…?"

Tilted up to look at Sirius, he found the man's lips thinned into a hard line. "I should- I want to speak with my brother. There's a lot of things I wish I could have told him. I don't know if he'll even want to talk with me, but I should still give it a try."

Harry nodded, a sad frown on his face. "I understand." He handed the stone to Sirius. "I'll see you outside. I doubt you'll want me hearing how it goes."

"There might be some language you shouldn't hear," he replied with a teasing smile. "But thanks, Harry. If all goes well, we'll talk about it afterwards."

"For sure."


Harry waited outside of the room with Marcello while Sirius had his conversation. After five minutes, he was sure that the meeting was going well. For the following five he imagined the things they must be talking about. Fond childhood memories and stuff, like he had with his parents. Around the fifteen minute mark, Sirius came out of the room. His expression betrayed nothing. With a quick "Thanks, Harry" he dropped the stone in Harry's hand, then started walking off. Both he and Marcello were confused by the act, so he made sure to call out to him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sirius stopped walking. His head tilted up as he thought over the question. "...No. I'm good."

Walking closer, he tried again. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Sirius shook his head. "What will help?"

A few paces went on. "A drink and a woman. Maybe more of each."

I wish I didn't hear that. Harry thought behind closed eyes. "Well… I'm sure Ezio and the others can help you with that."

"Good idea. I'll do that."

Sirius continued on, while Harry slowed his pace. Hearing footsteps behind him, he glanced back to find Marcello watching Sirius, arms crossed and looking on with concern. "Was it like that when you tried it?"

"Not so badly. Though, from conversations I've had with Sirius about his brother, I imagine their exchange was far more painful."

"Any ideas of what can help him?"

"I'd recommend not loaning the stone to him again. At least for the time being. As I said, its power is a temptation. No matter how much one suffers from it."

"I can do that. And, for how he's feeling now?"

He gave a dismissive flick. "Leave him be. He needs to grieve in his own way. So long as he does nothing too foolish, he'll be fine."

"I hope so," he replied. "I'm going to hide this for now. Best if no one else finds out about it." With both in agreement, Harry left to do just that. Allowing the meeting with his parents to consume the rest of his thoughts, filling him with grateful memories.