Note: Hello! I'm sorry this update took so long, I've had some personal problems and couldn't find the time to write.
Next update goes to my other story, Our Lives (I hope so).
August 1st, 1987
D'Angelo Villa/Manor
He runs like the fastest magical creature ever to exist as he crosses the gigantic yard of the Villa. His mother read a book to him yesterday about these creatures and Harry can't stop thinking about them, thinking about how big and fast and amazing they are.
He remembers one name, Zouwu.
Harry keeps running and imitating the giant cat/dragon he saw moving on the book.
"Harry!" He looks back to the house. "Come here!"
His grandfather is calling him, his mother by his side with her arms crossed. Harry frowns and runs back to the house as fast as he can. Opening his arms to his side, he yells and laughs. His grandfather laughs with him, but his mother doesn't. Something must have happened for her to look so serious. Still running he crashes into his grandfather and the older man lets out some air while he hugs Harry.
"Look at you, all sweaty and dirty, Harry." His mother chastises him. Not minding, Harry opens a big smile and hugs her too. Bianca snorts but hugs him back.
His excitement from running around dies a little, he can feel something changing in the air. He looks up at his grandfather. Matteo's face is serious, something practically new for Harry.
"We have to talk." Matteo says and puts a hand on Harry's shoulder. He steers the boy to a comfy couch outside and they sit together, his grandfather and his mother in front of him. Harry's eyes are big, his heart pounding. He can't quite grasp what's happening, but is not good.
"Tesoro," His mother begins but stops, shaking her head. Matteo takes her hand and squeezes it.
"It's okay, figlia. And in English, please."
"What's wrong, mamma?"
"My love, there's something you need to know." Her eyes are big and teary. "I love you with all my heart, I've always loved you since the day we met." She stops. Harry looks at his nonnino, searching for a clue as to why his mother is acting so strange. But Matteo has his eyes casted down to the floor.
"I love you too, mommy." He says sincerely and she gasps, weeping. "Don't cry." Harry moves on his seat, he wants to comfort his mother but she stops him.
"Listen, son, nothing I say now will change this, do you understand?" He frowns and tries nodding. But in reality he's scared. What's happening? They never talked to him that way, never looked at him with worry, he's known only love and affection from them. "I- I'm not your real mother." She says fast and Harry feels his heart beating extremely fast, even faster than it was when he was running a few minutes ago.
"Is this a game, mother?"
She shakes her head. They're used to playing games of pretend and charades of many kinds. "No, Harry, it isn't. I'm- I didn't give birth to you. Do you understand?"
Harry opens his mouth. He's heard about this. He knows of a colleague at school who has been adopted - that's the word the adults use. The boy said that his real parents didn't want him so he went to live with a family that did. Other kids don't like him, they say he's a bastard, a freak. But Harry never thought so. Am I a freak?
"I- didn't my parents want me?" He tilts his head, his mother covers her face.
It's Matteo who answers. "It's not like that, Harry." His voice is deep and firm. "We saved you."
"Saved me? From who? From my real parents?"
"No. We saved you from people who wanted to harm you. Who had already harmed your parents." Matteo finally shows some emotion and makes a pained face. "Your real parents are dead, Harry."
Harry stops at that. He doesn't know what he's supposed to feel. He's old and smart enough to understand that the people who were considered his real parents don't exist anymore, but was he supposed to feel bad about it? It's pretty hard because he's looking at the woman he considers his mother, looking at his grandfather. And even if his father is not around as much, Harry has a great relationship with him.
He has no idea what he's feeling. But the adults are clearly sad and he gathers there's something he's not understanding.
"Okay." He says slowly. "Can I go back to playing at the yard?" Not that he doesn't care at all, but he doesn't know what to do with everything going through his mind.
Bianca sobs and Matteo answers, "Of course. We'll talk more about this later, okay?"
Harry nods. Hesitantly, he stands.
"And Harry," His grandfather calls, "You can't, under any circumstance, tell this to anyone. Do you understand? This is important."
He never dared disobeying his grandfather. And he's kind of relieved that his colleagues won't know. So, he nods and Matteo sighs, satisfied. Harry goes back to the yard. As he runs now, his mind is not thinking about the magical creature. The only thing dominating his thoughts are the words he just heard.
Who were my real parents then? Who wanted to harm them?
November 10th, 2005
Harry's flat
Harry emerges from the memory gasping for air.
Cursing, he crumbles down on the floor in front of the pensive. Pressing both hands over his eyes, he tries to calm his breathing. There's a reason why he avoids these memories. They affect him way too much. Each time he revisits this one in particular, he thinks his mother sadder and his grandfather…
Getting up and brushing away a few tears he begins getting ready for his day at the Ministry. And just thinking about it makes his stomach churn. What he shared with Hermione at her house was bizarre. It was like they were trying to read each other's souls. Trying to figure out what the other was thinking or why they felt that… pull. Not just that, but he's obsessed with the tingle he felt every time their left hands touched. The sensation was good and warm and strangely strong.
But of course that since then they've been avoiding each other.
Yesterday they were supposed to continue their investigation, but when Harry arrived at the Ministry two hours earlier, Ron said to him that Hermione had suspended their investigation for the day. She gave no explanations and Harry didn't see her for most part of the day, but the moment she set foot at the Auror's floor, he immediately escaped to the washroom, stalling there for more than ten minutes, being sure that she would be at her office when he returned to his desk. And indeed she was. Later she sent him a memo canceling on their dance lesson at her house. Again, she gave no explanations. Harry didn't answer. He just went home.
So, he used his time to practice the wandless Patronus while he talked to Sally through the fireplace. He was impressed when she said not many wizards and witches are capable of doing that. She herself will be using her wand at the Ball. Knowing that his enemy's daughter is clearly more powerful than him in a way made him angry. And suddenly he was thinking about Hermione again.
But Sally steered his thoughts away when she asked if they would be dancing the traditional together. Before Harry could answer, she went on and said that the pair you choose at the traditional is very important. Harry asked why. She told him that this dance happens only once the entire night and it's a big moment because most couples are tested. When he made a face at her statement, she laughed and explained this happened because of the Patronus, of course. Harry nodded, finally catching up. As a projection of the soul, the Patronus can be very telling when showing how compatible you can be with another wizard or witch.
Feeling a bit under pressure by her questions, he answered that of course they would dance together and Sally smiled widely, but Harry was sure it didn't quite reach her eyes. Sally proceeded to ask him if he would like to have dinner at her house. He said yes.
After that they said their goodbyes.
And in a fucking second his mind was taunting him with the certainty that Hermione and Pettigrew are going to dance together.
He grunts when he finishes buttoning up his Auror vest. Harry looks up at his wall, all his informations there. Taking a moment before leaving, he decides a little trip to the Archives is necessary and overdue. It's a fact that since he arrived things have been intense, but if Hermione cancels the investigation today, he's definitely heading there.
December 8th, 1988
D'Angelo Villa/Manor
"Harry, my boy, have you read the book I gave you last week?" Matteo asks him while they walk to the living room. It's time for Harry's piano lessons.
He makes a face to his nonnino. "Not yet."
"You have to!" Harry flinches at his grandfather's tone.
Since the day Harry found out about his real parents, everything has changed. Now his hours are filled with lessons and studies. He barely sees his mother and whenever he actually talks and sees his grandfather he's expected to be excelling at every possible task his tutors might give him. And when he lacks at something, Matteo gives him the longest speech ever. Harry is sure these speeches are getting longer and longer.
"I'm sorry. I will." He says in a low voice. There's only silence from the man who used to shower Harry with hugs and kisses.
Now there's nothing. And he never felt so lonely.
November 10th, 2005
Ministry of Magic
"D'Angelo, hey." Harry looks up from his desk. He was lost in thought and hadn't noticed Malfoy standing by his side.
"What?"
"Hermione wants us in her office in five minutes."
He slowly nods, a bit numb from the memory. Maybe that was the first time he realized - after more than an year - that things would never be the same again with his mother and grandfather.
Malfoy narrows his eyes at him but doesn't prod and walks away.
Harry sighs and closes his eyes, his hands supporting his face while he leans forward. Nothing was the same once he knew the D'Angelos weren't his real family.
"Harry? Are you okay?" It's Ginny's voice.
Looking up at her he opens a side smile. "Sure. I'm just a bit tired." He yawns. "You know, you were right, Sally asked me to have dinner with her family tonight."
Ginny claps her hands, excited and Harry chuckles. "That's amazing! You'll love Sirius and Eleonora!"
"I've heard great things about them." He says with a smile on his face. He's eager to meet them, eager to look at the man who betrayed his parents.
"All true, I assure you." Ginny keeps saying while she motions for him to follow her to Hermione's office. They walk side by side. "I mean, if you truly want to make a good impression, I suggest you take one bottle of Firewhisky to Sirius, an apple pie to Eleonora and flowers to Sally."
"What kind of flowers?"
"She loves roses."
"Does she?" He raises an eyebrow. Ginny knocks on Hermione's door and they step inside, all the others are already there.
"Yes. I mean, she loves them so much you might get a kiss." Ginny winks and Harry chuckles again.
He realizes he likes the Weasleys.
"Who's getting a kiss from whom now?" Ron asks with his mouth full of bread.
"Harry! From Sally, of course!"
Malfoy whistles and teases him. Harry looks down, a bit embarrassed. He's sure he's blushing a little.
"No way, mate! Really?"
"Ginny is exaggerating, Ron. I'm just having dinner with them tonight."
"And giving her some roses!" Ginny completes and playfully smacks his shoulder.
"Enough. I didn't realize my office was the most appropriate place to always have a discussion about D'Angelo's love life." Hermione says in a cold tone while she looks at some papers, her hands moving and reorganizing them. "So, yesterday I had a lot to solve and we weren't able to talk about the investigation, but as I've discussed with D'Angelo, we'll investigate the park and its surroundings, not just that but all interrogations will be repeated by us. When interrogating the witnesses be very attentive to the way they behave, move their hands and their eyes. If you consider anything a probable lie, write it down. Since no one is a suspect, we can't use the truth bubble." She clears her throat. Harry narrows his eyes at Pettigrew, the man is definitely not happy with something. "Draco and Asmo, you'll investigate the site. Ron and Ginny you'll interrogate the witnesses. D'Angelo," She looks at him, their eyes meeting. "You'll come with me to interrogate the cursed women. We leave in ten."
And Hermione doesn't wait for them to agree or anything, she simply goes back to her papers. Pettigrew is the first who moves with a grunt, passing by her desk with a sour expression. When he walks by Harry, he bumps his shoulder into his on purpose. Harry sets his jaw and glares at Pettigrew, but the other man exits the office and bangs the door behind him.
Hermione sighs. "Anyone else wants to leave dramatically?" She asks in an amused tone.
Harry smiles despite himself. Malfoy and Ron laugh out loud. Ginny is the only one serious. Her eyes on Hermione. Harry follows the two men out, but Ginny stays behind with Hermione and he wonders if they're good friends. He knows Ron is Hermione's best friend, but what about Ginny?
Hermione haven't said a word to him since they met at the Atrium to apparate to the house of the first cursed woman. And Harry hates being ignored. But if that's how she wants to deal with things, so be it.
She knocks on the door of an eccentric house. Harry is not used to seeing this type of wizard accommodation. In Italy, most wizards and witches live among Muggles and even in wizarding communities the houses are just fine and normal as anyone would expect. But he knows that in a few secluded places in England wizards like to expose their magic in the way they build their houses. And this one has all kinds of impossible angles and heights.
A teenager opens the door. The girl is probably around fourteen. "Yes?" She asks with a frown, her eyes on Hermione, roaming over the Auror uniform. "Are you Hermione Riddle?" She's awed. "Oh, I can't believe this! I admire you so much!"
"Actually, yes. And this is Auror Harry D'Angelo, can we come in and talk to your mother?"
She nods avidly and steps aside for them to enter. The girl leads both to a cramped living room and tells them to be comfortable while she'll get her mother. Harry and Hermione stiffly sit side by side with a considerable gap between them. His eyes roam the place, there are no pictures in the living room, no fireplace and no indication of who she might actually be.
"What's her name?" Harry asks Hermione without turning to face her, his eyes fixed on the corridor the girl vanished into.
"Lucinda Summers."
Before he can say anything the girl storms back into the room, smiling. "She'll be here in a minute." She sits in front of them on a very uncomfortable chair.
"What's your name?" Hermione asks.
"I'm Hannah! It's a pleasure!" Harry narrows his eyes at her effusive way. Does she have any idea why they're there? "I mean, Miss Riddle, knowing you is a dream com-"
"Hannah," Hermione's voice is gentle when she interrupts the girl, "why aren't you at Hogwarts?"
Hannah's face falls. She opens and closes her mouth without any sound coming out of it. She seems to be at the brink of tears. Something is definitely wrong. Harry can feel Hermione's posture changing.
"It's okay, you can tell me, Hannah." Hermione encourages her.
The girl starts crying and Harry frowns.
"I wanted to, I really did-"
"Hannah!" A woman is standing at the entrance of the living room with a furious expression. "Go to your room while I talk with the Aurors!" Harry takes a moment to realize it's the same woman he saw yelling those words at the Fair. Black hair, small mouth, thick eyebrows and a permanent wrinkle between her brows.
Hermione moves an inch on the couch, ready to protest, but, in an impulse, Harry's hand touches hers and holds her back. She accepts his action, stilling.
"Please, sit, Mrs Summers." He says with a deep voice, his eyes following the girl leaving the room.
With a very unfriendly face Lucinda sits in front of them. "What do you want?" She asks bluntly. "I don't remember a thing. You know that."
Hermione moves and pulls her hands back from his. Harry looks down and intertwines his own fingers. "Mrs Summers, we know, but even so we want to hear from you what happened that day. Do you remember seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary while you were at the Fair?" She asks.
Lucinda shakes her head. "No. Things were as normal and dull as ever. I got there around 7pm and had some fun with a few games, then I ate with two friends and we proceeded to pay our homages." She stops talking and stares at them. Her eyes on Harry. "I remember seeing you at the altar." She says to him. He sets his jaw.
"I was there, yes." But he doesn't remember her at all. "Was it after you paid your homages that you felt the curse's influence?"
"I guess so because I don't remember much after leaving the altar. I took a few steps and then it was all a blank. I woke up one day later at St. Mungo's."
Both Aurors nod, thinking. "Did you touch anything? Have someone bumped into you?" Harry asks.
The woman narrows her eyes and looks down. "I- I remember holding the necklace of my deceased husband while paying my homage and then…" She shakes her head, "Well I didn't actually see anyone, but I felt a different gush of air passing behind me… it was a chilly night, though." She shrugs.
Harry finally dares looking at Hermione. Her expression gives away nothing and he understands she's a brutal interrogator. She's the one who can get any informations she wants. He gulps. Lucinda clears her throat and fidgets on the chair. She's feeling the pressure of Hermione's steely gaze.
"There was no strange object with you when you woke at St. Mungo's?" Harry asks.
The woman just denies. Hermione is still silent and Harry himself is getting a bit restless. What more she expects to learn from this? The something he was talking about, Lucinda already gave them, the gush of air, even maybe her own necklace…
"Why isn't your daughter at Hogwarts?" Hermione finally says and Harry opens his mouth. "It's mid November. She shouldn't be home. She said she wanted-"
Lucinda stands abruptly. "You should go. Leave my house."
Harry widens his eyes. This woman shouldn't be talking to the Head Auror like this. Hermione seems just as stunned as him for a few seconds, but then…
"I beg your pardon?" Head Riddle stands too, closing the gap between her and the woman. "You're surely not-"
"I surely am, Miss Riddle."
Harry waits for an aggressive response from Hermione, but she holds her ground and asks again, "Why isn't she at Hogwarts? Answer me."
The woman opens a nasty sneer and the atmosphere of the house seems strange and menacing in a blink. Harry stands fast and inevitably puts himself between the two, his instincts yelling that Hermione might be in danger. Surprisingly, she accepts his unexplainable protection and lets out a heavy breath, relaxing a bit with his presence.
"Mrs Summers," His voice sounds off, he had no idea he was so nervous. Is there real danger for them in this house? Two trained Aurors against one civil witch? "It's a logical question. She should be studying, it's the law."
The woman's eyes go to him and he sees a clear threat, a sharpness that's always dangerous in his experience. A look from someone who is protecting a loved one. His hand seeks for Hermione behind him and meets her middle, he takes a step back, forcing her to do the same.
"You're a traitor." Mrs Summers says to Harry and he freezes. "A traitor of your blood."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
She only laughs. Hermione tenses behind him, one of her hands closing around his wrist.
And then it happens pretty fast.
A sudden darkness invades the house and he's completely blind, Hermione tightens her grip on his arm and he comes closer to her, immediately fetching his wand. There's a numbing silence filling their ears. The hair on his nape rise. They're totally exposed and vulnerable like this. Hermione moves and intertwines their fingers with their left hands, that same tingle and rush invade Harry. It's a warm sensation wired directly to his heart. But he understands what she's doing and they give their backs to each other.
They should apparate. Leave and deal with this another time. But from the little he knows Hermione, he's sure she's not considering this idea. She'll stay, fight and take whatever evidence she can. In that sense they seem to be on the same page.
Patiently, they wait. Hands clasped together, wands ready, backs touching. Having her with him makes it a lot less stressful. Harry considers their options. A Lumos now would be reckless. They have no idea how many others are there and it's impossible to tell from where the attacks might come. Even raising their wands without this knowledge could be fatal.
However, soon they hear it. A spell coming from their right. They turn, and, amazingly, without communicating, Hermione raises a shield around them while Harry utters a counter spell at the same direction. The faint light from the spells gives them a scarce notion of what's happening. Harry is sure Lucinda and her daughter are close together at a corner. It's only them.
Hermione starts uttering a nocturnal vision charm but another spell comes her way, stopping her action. Harry grits his teeth.
Another spell comes and this time is actually a curse. The Cruciatus. It angers him. He raises a shield and Hermione utters the counter spell. She squeezes his hand more tightly and he reciprocates the action.
He's sure he knows where their attackers are. Harry takes a tiny step, gently pulling Hermione with him. She follows without resistance. And if it wasn't for Hermione's quick reflexes, a Stupefy would have certainly hit them. It's clear that only Lucinda can perform spells. What about her daughter? He doesn't dwell on it when another spell comes their way.
Losing a bit of her patience, Hermione takes a few wider steps in the direction they were already going. The action must surprise Lucinda since there's a brief pause from her spells and Harry uses the moment to finally utter a Lumos. The room brightens up and he releases Hermione's hand. They move fast and in unison.
Mother and daughter are indeed at the corner. Harry stops. In a blink Hermione takes Lucinda's wand and binds both with spells. Harry notices she's ready to send out a Patronus to warn other Aurors, but he closes a hand around her wrist.
"Wait." He says and she turns to look at him, frowning.
"What is it?"
He purses his lips, his eyes on the women at the corner. "Something feels off."
"Exactly. I need to warn the Aurors-"
"No." His voice comes out firm.
She lets out a heavy breath. "What do you think you're doing, D'Angelo?"
He stares at her, their faces close, only the light from his wand allowing him to see the chocolate color from her warm eyes. Hermione is clearly angry with him, but he recognizes a curiosity there, intense and… indulgent.
"You really think they're a threat, Hermione? Look at them." His voice is low and he watches her eyes falling to his mouth while he talks.
Then she looks at their attackers. Hermione sighs. "They were attacking us." She states. "We need to take them into custody, Harry."
He knows she's right, but his gut tells him they shouldn't. From the messy house to Hannah not being at Hogwarts and the incredible aggressiveness Lucinda showed from the first moment, Harry is sure they're hiding something and he thinks he knows what it is. If they are taken under custody…
Sighing, he lowers his voice in a way that only Hermione can hear, "The girl is a squib, Hermione. You know." She closes her eyes. "Squibs and their parents aren't welcome here in England."
Hermione sets her jaw, her eyes narrow and her voice comes out sharp, "It's the law, D'Angelo. My father's law. And I live by it."
"Are you seriously considering murdering two innocent women-"
"Innocent?" She finally takes a step away from him, her voice a tone higher. "She was probably never cursed. They surely worked with those terrorists who assassinated ninety-eight wizards and witches at the Fair! Or have you forgotten about them?"
"You know they did not pull the trigger on those guns!" He loses it for a moment, "And you know as well as I do that this mother is only trying to protect her child-"
"ENOUGH!" Her voice echoes between them. Harry bites his lower lip, obeying. Hermione's eyes are wild. She moves her wrist and Harry fists his hands when her Patronus goes out into the void.
It hurts. And he wonders why he keeps expecting something else from Hermione than the obvious nastiness and evilness these wizards and witches live by. She is a Riddle. She was only two when his parents were murdered and she surely doesn't have their blood on her hands. But what about since she took over the Auror Department? What about all the decisions she's been making for years? How many more Muggleborns or sympathizers has she allowed or commanded to die?
Because that's what a Dementor's kiss is: death. Or maybe not, maybe it's worse.
They don't break eye contact until the Aurors start arriving. Harry at last lowers his head when Hermione explains both women should be taken to the Ministry for interrogation and to Azkaban right after.
Not caring, he exits the house. The sun is already setting and the wind is blowing wildly. In a mild run he distances himself from the place. He feels nauseous. Harry supports himself with both hands on his knees. Squeezing his eyes shut he thinks about his parents, about the reason why he's putting up with such atrocities.
A memory invades him instantly.
August 1st, 1990
D'Angelo Villa/Manor
"How was the lesson?"
Are the first words his grandfather says after a whole week without properly talking to him. But Harry is now used to it, and he finds himself not caring anymore.
"Good." He says firmly.
Matteo stops walking and Harry stops by his side at the wide corridor of one of the many aisles of the Villa. His grandfather taps his golden cane on the marble floor, two thuds. He's not happy.
"You have to understand, Harry… these lessons, everything I'm doing here… it's all for you, for your education," Matteo surprisingly crouches in front of Harry, "for your revenge."
Lately Matteo has been using this word a lot: Revenge. Harry knows what it means, but the reality of it seems far away from what he's doing. Reading, fighting, memorizing spells, excelling at anything remotely difficult and exhausting himself at English lessons are things which fill his days and mind. And he has a hard time associating it all with… revenge.
He chews the insides of his cheeks.
"Don't do that." Matteo says sharply as he stands. "It's easy to tell that you're nervous when you do that and I hope you learn how to conceal all your emotions."
Harry looks down and sighs. His grandfather resumes his walk but Harry stays there…
"What if I don't want revenge?" He says, finally. This burning question has been bothering him for more than a year now. Gathering his courage he looks up at Matteo. The older man has both hands resting on the top of his cane while his lips are pressed together and his jaw is set. Recently, his hair and beard had gone white and Harry still thinks the new look doesn't quite suit the blackness of his eyes and eyebrows.
"Believe me, Harry. You do." His tone is final and Harry nods timidly. "But maybe it's time for you to see something. Come."
In total silence he follows his grandfather to a study where he's being trained in one of his most hated subjects. Every Tuesday and Thursday, a professor comes and magically invades his mind. Harry's only objective is to shield his thoughts, each and every one of them. But he's been failing miserably. And he really hopes the strange professor keeps it all to himself. He has no idea what he would do if his grandfather found out how sad and lonely he's been feeling…
"I have a memory to show you." Matteo fetches a vial amongst hundreds magically protected and stored inside big drawers. He holds up the vial. "I found this with you, Harry." His grandfather sits down on a couch and pats his side for Harry to join him. "You see, I was actually searching for your parents. They were being hunted down by the British Ministry and I was eager to show them that their union wasn't wrong." Matteo presses his lips together, his eyes lost, "I'd just discovered where they were hiding but when I got there… it was a bit too late." Harry tilts his head, there are tears on his grandfather's eyes. "Your mother and father were dead… the Aurors long gone and I don't know what made me search the house, a gut feeling, maybe," He shrugs, "But I searched every inch and when I was about to give up, I heard… your cry." Matteo opens a sad smile. "Your parents were freakishly smart, Harry. They casted a few spells around you, one of them being a guarantee that no person without good intentions would be able to find you. There was a little door under a rug at your parent's bedroom. You were inside, behind that door, Harry. Such a little and chubby baby, crying, fat tears rolling from your eyes." Matteo stops for a moment. "No one knew James and Lily had had a child. They hid you pretty well. And then, I took you in my arms, Harry. And I've loved you since that day." Harry feels his heart beating faster, he wants to hug his nonnino. He doesn't, though. "I found a bag with you and this memory was one of the many inside." Matteo stands, walking to the pensive. "Wanna see it?"
Harry just nods and goes to the pensive. The pull takes him to years ago, through his parents' eyes.
August 14th, 1981
Potter Household
"Lil! Fast! He's about to walk!" James yells. He's up with both arms open, a bright smile on his face. There's a baby in front of him, hesitantly trying to stand on his own little feet.
"That's impossible!" Lily cries from the kitchen, "He just turned one!"
"I'm not joking this time, honey! You'll miss it! Don't blame me later!" James laughs sincerely. "Come on, Harry, you can do it, son." He says in a low voice.
Lily grunts loudly and the sound of her footsteps take over the place while the baby giggles when he finally stands, his two short arms stretched out seeking balance. James nods his head encouragingly to his son. That's when Lily finally arrives and lets out a timid squeal at the sight of her baby standing on his own. She joins James with a smile and reassuring words.
"Look at you, baby boy, you can do this, come to mama, come." She moves her hands and the baby giggles again.
They hold their breathes when little Harry tries taking the first step. He crumbles down, the balance gone. He hits the floor with his butt and lets out a pure laugh. James and Lily smile so widely their faces might tear apart.
"He'll try again." James says.
Lily raises an eyebrow. "And you're so sure because?"
"Because he's a Potter." He looks at her and they share an intense gaze. "And an Evans. Stubborn as they come, love." She can't help laughing at her husband.
And indeed, obeying his father's prediction, Harry stands again, this time faster than the first, as if he already learned how to simply handle his weight. Again, Lily calls to him, his eyes going from his mother to his father.
Letting out a little yell - like a warrior - Harry steps forward. This time he's able to keep still, and then he tries taking fast steps, one after the other, which obviously leads him to another fall, this time closer to his parents.
They all burst out in laughter and James fetches his son from the floor, kissing his cheek. "Don't worry big guy, there'll be a day you'll walk and run and even fly."
Lily hugs James' middle and also kisses Harry, the boy trying to hold her face with his hands. "And I can't wait to see it." She smiles and her eyes go to James. "I love you."
He gently kisses the tip of her nose and then her lips. "I love you way more."
He's breathing hard. He remembers clearly how he felt after seeing the memory of his real parents for the first time. He went to his room and looked at himself on the mirror for hours. He sought out all the similarities he inherited from them. The shape of his face - so much like his father's - not to mention the black hair and probably the poor eyesight - something which Matteo corrected as soon as possible saying it was out of question for him to wear glasses - but what really struck him was his mother's smile. Pure and loving and warm. And her eyes. Emerald eyes. Just like his own.
Everything changed after that memory. It did because the tragedy of what happened to them felt more real. They had plans of teaching Harry how to walk and run and fly, they had love and they had themselves.
Until they didn't.
Until Tom Riddle came with his Aurors and obsession of Blood Supremacy and murdered them. A couple that just wanted to live their life raising their son in peace, harming no one. Harry is sure that if Tom Riddle had had the chance, he would also be dead by now.
A hand touches his shoulder and he jumps in place, startled and lost. He'd almost forgotten where he was or what had just happened.
It's Hermione.
He feels acid in his stomach, a burning and terrible sensation taking over him. He wants to yell at her. He wants to shake her into reality and ask if she knows how she's destroying these women's lives, ask if she has any idea what it feels like to be discriminated like this, yell at her face how privileged she is, how fucking lucky she is to be the daughter of the man who decides who lives and who dies just because he feels like it.
It's the first time since they met that he feels real hate towards her. Maybe what she just did was what he needed to put himself back on track, to make him see that all of them are cut from the same cloth. And this cloth is a nest of vipers. Of assassins. Of supremacists. Of monsters.
Something must be showing on his expression because her eyes widen, the only indication of some bewilderment. But Harry clears his throat and straightens his back. It was easy forgetting his revenge around Hermione, but that won't happen again.
Instantly, all his training, all the lessons his grandfather put him through come back to him and he steels his posture and face. Nothing can touch or affect him anymore. Not even Hermione. How it should have been from the start.
She opens her mouth and he raises a hand. "Look, I'm sorry," He says, the words coming out easily. It's impossible to get his revenge if Hermione sends him away. "It was the heat of the moment. You're right in sending them to Azkaban. They deserve what they're getting. They hid information from the Ministry and this can't be allowed." He stops for a moment. Hermione crosses her arms. "Not just that but they surely had some participation in what happened at the Fair. They knew for sure and they should have warned the authorities."
His voice dies in the wind. She frowns. "Apology taken." He nods, pocketing his hands. "I sent out someone to the house of the other cursed woman. They just reported the place is abandoned. I guess she was in it too."
"Probably."
Hermione puts some strand hairs behind her ear, biting her lower lip and looking down. She seems… shy. "Look," She sighs, "I won't take another outburst like that from you." She states firmly, her eyes finally meeting his. Harry holds her gaze.
"I won't happen again, boss." There's no mockery in his tone. He's being totally serious.
"Good." She doesn't sound confident. "But you can come tonight if you want to practice the waltz." She abruptly changes the subject and Harry blinks.
"That's nice of you. Thanks." She's already nodding, "But I'll have dinner at the Blacks'." He sees her eyes narrowing, her whole body stiffening a bit. "And I think Sally wants to teach me, I mean, we're dancing together at the Ball, so…" He shrugs.
Hermione blinks a few times. "Sure. Of course." She waves a hand. Harry bites his tongue. He wants to ask if she's dancing with Pettigrew. She can dance with whomever she wants. It's none of my business and I don't care.
He opens a tight smile and glances at his watch. "I guess I'll be going then."
And never waiting for an answer, he apparates.
Sally gave him the address and now he's standing in front of a nice and charming building. It's in the middle of a muggle street and this surprised Harry so much he chocked on his own saliva. Holding Sally's bouquet, he searches for number 12.
"Eleven… thirteen?" He frowns.
Then he turns when a laugh reaches him from behind. It's Sally. And she looks gorgeous.
"Harry. I'm glad you at least found the street." She comes closer to him, still smiling. He smiles with her. "Are those for me?" Her eyes widen at the sight of the bouquet. "I love roses." Locking his eyes on hers, Harry gives her the bouquet and leans closer to kiss her cheek.
"Just as beautiful as you." He says close to her ear.
Sally turns her head. "You're good, D'Angelo."
He recognizes the look she's giving him. "You haven't seen anything yet." He lowers his voice and she lets out a heavy breath before raising a hand to his nape and pulling him even closer.
"Show me."
She kisses him. Harry corresponds immediately, surprised by the softness of her lips, his tongue exploring her mouth slowly.
A car's alarm sounds at the end of the street and they separate.
"Good enough?" He asks smugly.
"Sì."
He wants to kiss her again because of the adoring Italian and with the alarm still sounding, they share a quick kiss. Then Sally grunts and moves her wand to stop the alarm. Harry opens his mouth at the way she's openly using magic at a muggle street.
"Don't worry. Muggles are used to us here, we've already magically blinded practically everyone on the street. They can't see us doing magic." She moves her wand again and this time he takes a step back. The buildings start moving and number twelve reveals itself to him.
He snorts a laugh. "Why live in the middle of Muggles?" He takes her hand in his while they head to the front door. She smiles at him.
"This place has been in the family for too long to just leave it. My dad has a hate/love relationship with it."
Without ceremony she opens the door and pulls him in. The inside is warm and bright. Harry can immediately smell something good and, in a snap, a house-elf appears in front of them. "Can I take your coat, Sir?" The elf is old. Harry has no idea how long they live, but this one is surely one of the oldest he's ever seen.
"This is Kreacher. He's been in the family forever." Sally waves a hand.
Harry gives the elf his coat and his mind betrays him as he thinks about Hermione not having a house-elf. He at least didn't see one when he was there. Forget her.
Turning his attention back to Sally, he hears a voice coming from the kitchen, "Sal? Is that you? Is he here?" It's a woman, probably Eleonora.
Harry follows Sally to the kitchen. Eleonora is indeed there, cooking. With black hair, blue eyes and a round face, she smiles at Harry and opens her arms for a hug, he chuckles and hugs her, introducing himself. If he's not mistaken, this kind woman had nothing to do with his parents' assassination. She met Sirius a while after. So, in a way, he feels more comfortable around her. And before he forgets, he magically conjures up the apple pie he brought. In that particular moment he's sure he earns Eleonora's eternal love. And he can't help smiling because of it.
"So, I wanna know everything about you, dear." She moves her wand and two stools move from the isle. Harry and Sally sit side by side. "Sirius will be a while longer, so we can talk until he arrives."
Eleonora pours them some wine and Harry accepts it promptly. The fact that Sirius is running late stirs something inside him. He's eager to meet this man. From what he gathered from his parents' memories and superficial informations about the Persecution, Sirius Black was James' best friend. And Harry can't believe how a best friend was able to do what he did. Did he, along with Pettigrew, gave away their location, henceforth, killed them?
"Well," He opens a dashing smile, "I'm from Italy and-"
"Oh, I know your family! I mean, I've heard about them. Matteo D'Angelo is a well known man." Her eyes glint, "I've actually met your mother once." Harry widens his eyes and Sally clears her throat.
"Mum, come on. Be nice." She drinks some wine, "Harry's here to enjoy a calm evening, isn't that right?" She nudges him and he drinks from his glass, not really knowing what to say. "We'll practice the waltz later." Sally states.
"Are you dancing together at the Ball?" They nod. "That's nice." Her voice sounds off. "The traditional is indeed beautiful." Then, Eleonora scrunches her nose, "But not very modern, the whole thing with the Patronus is ancient. And despite what many may say, I don't think it's a demonstration of power... maybe more of compatibility than anything else, but still." She shrugs.
"Mother. Let's not forget Harry here is an Auror. I don't think telling him how you disagree with our Pureblood's customs is a good idea." Sally's tone is playful and he raises his hands in the air when Eleonora puts a hand on her waist, staring at him.
"Are you arresting me, D'Angelo?"
"Please, call me Harry, and of course I'm not arresting you." He fetches his glass again and before sipping on the wine, he murmurs, "After all, I'm not Hermione." He knows he sounds bitter, and he probably shouldn't have said that, but the only reaction he gets are loud laughs from mother and daughter.
Eleonora resumes her cooking and Sally gives him a side glance. It flashes into his mind the dissatisfaction with which Sally greeted Hermione at the pub the other night. She doesn't like her. He can't help being curious about it… Sally could be a great help in revealing Hermione's weak spots. If she has any. He narrows his eyes. I'm thinking about her again.
He shakes his head and opens his mouth to compliment the food's smell when a strong voice comes from the entrance. Harry freezes. Sirius Black is finally there and he's about to meet him.
Sally takes his hand and guides him to the corridor, but it all seems a blur to Harry. He tries steeling himself but Sirius looks nothing like what Harry imagined. He has dark and warm eyes and a welcoming smile.
They don't last much, though. His whole expression changes at the sight of Harry and he's suddenly very pale. Sally even asks if he's okay, but his eyes are fixed on Harry.
Sirius finally opens his mouth, letting out a heavy breath. Harry sees his hands fisting. And Sirius' next words almost stop his heart:
"James?"
Note: Next chapter we get to see Harry with the Blacks and... will he find something at the Archives?