Harry whistled to himself as he made his way back to the Dursley's house the last day of June. His summer had been great so far: He'd been getting all his mail, Sirius was due to be released the last week of July, and Harry had just sucked down the souls of four mundanes that would have seen him dead if they'd had the chance. He'd taken the souls of something like twenty mundanes already this summer and intended to make a trip to Knockturn tomorrow to hunt some vampires.

The Dursleys themselves had been pretty well behaved. Vernon hadn't yet had his expected blow-up, but Harry hadn't been around much while he was home, so there hadn't been many chances. (Harry half expected it to happen over dinner again, really, since that was the only time he and Vernon were in the same room.)

Harry was just outside the blood wards when he heard a whispered "Stupefy" and ducked into the shadow under a nearby tree while the spell splashed harmlessly into a bin. His eyes darted around the area, trying to spot his attacker, but whoever they were, they were staying out of sight. "Bugger," Harry muttered, turning his eyes to the space inside the blood wards. If this person had waited outside the wards to catch him, they probably couldn't get inside.

An overhanging roof threw enough of a shadow for Harry to use it so he shadowed over to it, grimacing as he fell a foot to the ground. He fell into a crouch as soon as he was fully on the ground and again scanned the area past the wards. No one.

This is seriously going to put a damper on my plans tomorrow. If this is Voldemort using one of his people to get around his oath, I'm going to rip him a new one. Harry huffed a bit, then readied himself to jump back into the shadow thrown against the siding above him. He always kept a shadow under his bed in case of emergencies, and if this wasn't an emergency, he didn't know what was.

A quick jump later and Harry was lying uncomfortably under his bed, one hand crushed against the wall. "Sometimes," he grumbled as he pulled himself out, "that's more trouble than it's worth." Once back on his feet, he shuffled through his trunk and pulled out one of the few books he'd yet to read, then fell across his bed, book held to his chest. Perhaps I'll shadow walk to Knockturn tomorrow. The place is always full of dark corners, and there's that one spot in the vampire pub that's always in shadow. It'll be troublesome, but I can go in my Cloak and that should throw them off. He'd taken great care over the years to keep the pub staff from finding out anything about him, lest they find some way to block him from their establishment. The vampires never survived long enough to cause him any trouble, since once their souls were eaten their physical body crumbled to dust, but the pub owners were werewolves, so he left them alone.

For all that Harry sucked souls of vampires and mundanes pretty much indiscriminately, he tended to avoid any other magical being – wizards, witches, werewolves, etc – unless they'd ticked him off in some way. The few times he'd been in the pub, the werewolves had treated him fairly, despite his apparent age, so he had no grievance with them. (Anyway, the longer they stayed alive, the longer the pub would be open.)

If nothing else, Harry could keep his eyes open for wizards hanging out around the neighbourhood. And, if he was lucky, he might catch a Death Eater in Knockturn to question. An evil little smile curled Harry's lips at the thought. I'd quite enjoy a Death Eater snack. Yum.

Harry didn't manage to catch the stalker for almost another week and, honestly, by that point he was wholly sick of the whole thing. The bastard was very well hidden, and without magic Harry was having quite the time of spotting him from only the readily accessible shadows.

When Harry finally spotted the hunched form, he shadowed to behind him, grabbed the back of his cloak and shoved him bodily against the tree he'd been hiding under. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't rip out your fucking heart," he hissed, the air chilling with his power in his anger.

Slightly crazed eyes looked back at him from a face that Harry had only seen once, but had never forgotten.

"Barty Crouch Jr," Harry murmured, his grip loosening in his surprise.

Barty ducked out of the way and brought his wand around to bear, but Harry had disappeared before the man could form a spell. "Where are you, little Potter?" the man hissed, eyes darting around the area.

"How did you get out of your father's grasp?" Harry wondered from the branches above Barty's head. When the Death Eater pointed his wand up at him, Harry shadowed to a different branch on the other side of the tree. "Oh, wait, let me guess. Voldemort regains his real body and your Mark darkens, giving you the extra jolt needed to shake off your father's Imperius." He shadowed again as Barty spotted him.

"You're well informed for a brat," Barty hissed, eyes narrowed against the gloom.

"And you're looking pretty good for a dead man," Harry retorted from behind the Death Eater. As Barty turned towards him, Harry snatched his wand away and held it between two hands like he was about to break it.

Barty smiled and held up his hands. "I like you, Potter," he decided.

Harry's lips twitched with a smirk, but he didn't change his hold on the wand. "Why are you trying to stupefy me?"

Barty cocked his head to one side. "My Lord wants to talk to you."

"You don't stupefy people you want to talk to," Harry retorted. "He wants you to grab me, why?"

"You're not a normal twelve year old, are you?"

"Eleven. Answer the question."

"That jumping from shadow to shadow, that's a vampiric gift–"

SNAP!

Barty froze as Harry calmly slid the broken wand pieces into his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. "You're getting boring, Barty."

The Death Eater cleared his throat. "I don't know all the details, but he wants you to go missing. Something about assumed dead?"

Harry frowned a bit, considering that. "Assumed dead? What good would that– Oh." Harry's lips curved with a little smile. "That's such an angry Dark Lord thing to do." He chuckled and shook his head, then focussed on Barty again. "Is he currently based in Malfoy Manor, or the muggle house outside Little Hangleton?"

Barty blinked. "Malfoy... Manor..." he admitted, a little disturbed.

Harry nodded, grabbed Barty's arm, then shadowed them to the basement he remembered in the manor. "Lead the way," he requested.

"You sort of scare me," Barty admitted, turning to lead the way upstairs.

"Scaring Death Eaters is my job," Harry retorted. "You're lucky you're not dead, honestly. I dislike being stalked."

"You don't say," Barty muttered, remembering the all-encompassing cold and the murderous intent in the eerie green eyes when the boy had first grabbed him. He wasn't sure who was scarier, his Lord in a temper or the boy behind him.

Barty led the way up to the third floor, portraits looking down on them disapprovingly the whole way. At the door of the room the Dark Lord was residing in, Barty knocked.

"Come," Voldemort ordered.

Barty cringed a bit, then pushed the door open. "My Lord," he said, stepping into the room and bowing.

"Barty," Voldemort hissed. "I do hope you have the boy."

"More like I have him," Harry retorted, stepping into the room behind Barty. A quick look around the room showed him a room painted all black with drapes covering the windows. "You are so tacky."

Voldemort stared at the boy in shock for a moment, then snapped out his wand and hissed, "Crucio!"

The spell hit thin air as Harry darted out of the way, having fully expected that reaction. "I'm beginning to think you're incapable of having a normal discussion," he commented, leaning back against the wall.

"Crucio!"

Harry ducked that curse too, then said, "If you don't bloody-well put that wand away–"

"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted again, starting to sound a little desperate.

Harry avoided the spell, narrowing his eyes. It took only moments for the room to completely freeze over. Over by the door, Barty darted outside, a whimper escaping his throat. In his regal chair, Voldemort gasped in surprise and his wand dropped from shaking fingers. Harry walked calmly forward and picked up the wand, then used it to conjure himself a chair across from the Dark Lord to sit in. Once he was comfortable, he drew back his power.

It took Voldemort some time to come back from his nightmares, but once he was fully in the present again, Harry said, "Are you ready to talk like a civilized person now? Or should I just leave and come back in few years?"

Voldemort drew a shuddering breath and visibly shook himself. "I'm listening, Potter."

Harry smiled coldly. "Excellent. Here's how it stands: I want the muggles gone, same as you. I have no intention of stopping you in whatever you want to do, unless you start attacking any Hogwarts students. I don't care about most of them, but a few are my friends and I'll be most upset if you harm them, so just plan to leave all of them alone.

"Yes, I'm aware of the prophecy. Better yet, I know the whole thing. It goes on about us killing each other, blah, blah, blah." Harry waved his hand negligently. "If we both ignore the bloody thing, it shouldn't be an issue. Just because a prophecy exists doesn't mean it has to come to pass."

Voldemort took a moment to assimilate all that, then shook his head. "Let me get this straight: You're on my side?"

"It would be more correct to say that we're on the same side," Harry corrected.

Voldemort snorted. "Semantics. We both want the muggles dead. You're pretty much useless for another five years–"

Harry scowled. "Useless? Excuse me, but who got the Stone? Who soundly defeated your Death Eater? Who disarmed you without a wand?" He held up Voldemort's wand, which he'd been twirling between his fingers as they spoke. "Just because I'm under age doesn't mean I'm useless."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Yes, your mysterious ability to freeze the room and recall people's worst memories. It's very dementor-like."

Harry offered the Dark Lord a cold smile. "You don't honestly believe I'm going to sit here and spill all my secrets to you."

"You'd make a poor hero," Voldemort decided. "Very well, Potter, keep your secrets; I'll figure them out eventually."

"I sincerely doubt that."

The Dark Lord looked for a moment like he would have liked to have his wand, but since Harry was still twirling it between his fingers, he relaxed back into his chair. "What exactly do you intend to offer me for my leaving your friends alone?" he asked.

Harry considered that, looking off into the distance over Voldemort's shoulder. After a moment, he focussed back on the man and asked, "What do you want? You have my alliance. Any information I could pass you about Dumbledore you can just as easily get from Snape or your contacts in the Ministry."

Voldemort inclined his head. "Your alliance, you say?"

Harry shrugged. "The only part of that prophecy I have any interest in is where it calls me your equal. I refuse to be ruled by anyone, not even you. I am not one of your servants, for all you've already marked me." He used the wand in his hands to flick his fringe out of the way, then returned to twirling it.

Voldemort sneered. "Equals?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Why do I bother?" he asked the dark ceiling.

"I don't have any equals."

"And I don't have any betters," Harry retorted. "Unless you're going to start calling me 'Master' and bowing at my feet, you'd best get used to thinking of me as your equal."

Voldemort looked like he might pop a vein.

Harry rolled his eyes, then remembered something he'd almost forgotten. "Oh, yeah! I know something I can do as payment for my friends!"

"What?" the Dark Lord ground out.

Harry smirked a bit. "You had a Death Eater named Regulus Black during your last rise, yes? Well, he somehow found out about your Horcruxes – and, yeah, I know all about those – and went with his house-elf to where your locket was hidden and stole it. I know where the Horcrux is currently being kept."

Voldemort considered him suspiciously. "How did you find out about my Horcruxes?"

"Mmmm... Secret, sorry."

"Potter..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "No one else knows about them, unless you've gone and told someone, so don't get your knickers in a twist. Do you want me to retrieve your locket, or not?"

Voldemort took a moment to glare furiously at Harry, as if it would cow him into submission. Harry just watched him back, getting steadily more amused. Finally, the Dark Lord ground out, "Yes."

Harry nodded. "Three Ravenclaws: Terry Boot, Li Su, and Luna Lovegood; and six Gryffindors: Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and the four youngest Weasleys. So, nine students. Well..." Harry tapped his chin with Voldemort's wand. "And Lillian Moon from Slytherin, but she's practically one of yours already." He smiled. "That's all."

"Ten students for one Horcrux?" Voldemort snorted. "Don't make me laugh, boy."

Harry scowled. "Let me make it more clear, then: Ten students for the locket or I'll destroy both it and the diadem hidden at Hogwarts."

There was a long silence, during which Voldemort's lip curled with utter contempt and if he'd had his wand, he probably would have cast the Killing Curse, oath or no oath. Harry just continued scowling, but his eyes practically glowed with fury.

Finally – finally – the Dark Lord relented. "Very well," he hissed, slouching back into his chair a bit. "But I want the diadem, too."

Harry rolled his eyes, but stood. "Agreed. Two Horcruxes for my friends' lives."

"So mote it be," Voldemort grumbled and their magic snapped with the oath.

Harry tossed the Dark Lord back his wand, which the man caught with some surprise. "I'll be back directly," the boy said as he moved into a corner that was cloaked heavily in shadows.

Harry shadowed first to Grimmauld Place. After using his dementor ability to render the doxies who came to attack him for disturbing their curtains unconscious, he slipped over to the cabinet the locket was held in. The door was locked, but alohomora was one of the few spells he'd been able to master wandlessly, so that wasn't a problem. (And that far away from the wards around Privet Drive, any magic he did wouldn't get picked up.)

Once he had the locket, he stepped back into a shadow and travelled to a usually shadowed hallway in Hogwarts that wasn't far from the Room of Requirement. Just before he stepped into the hallway, he remembered something and groaned; I don't have any way to hide myself. No Cloak, no disillusionment.

Shaking his head at himself, he shadowed to his bedroom, climbed out from under his bed and went over to his trunk. In the most secure section, next to the Cloak and the Map, was his collection of stolen wands from obnoxious wizards and witches. He'd managed to catch another witch – this time one working for a shop on Knockturn – so now had five wands in his collection. He grabbed the one that worked the best for him – the one from the Wizengamot member – and ducked back under his bed to shadow back to Hogwarts.

Once he had the diadem, he shadowed from inside the Room back to Malfoy Manor. He arrived to find Lucius Malfoy kneeling in front of Voldemort. Cocking an amused eyebrow, he leaned back against the wall, wondering both what they were discussing and how long it would take the Dark Lord to notice him.

"–too easy, my Lord," Lucius was saying. "A little gold in his pockets and the man would hand over his own wife for slaughter. The only real problem at this point is Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act."

Voldemort glanced towards the corner Harry was standing in and smirked when he saw him. "And what are your thoughts on this, boy? You really want to protect the children of a muggle-lover?"

From the tensing in Lucius' shoulders and neck, Harry knew the man was trying not to turn around and see who was there. "Just because you are incapable of making friends doesn't mean we all are," he replied, lips curling with a smile. "Anyway, the children are not the father, for all that they share similar genes. Actually, now that I think of it, that's something Snape never quite learned, either." He pushed off against the wall, absently conjuring a bag and dropping the Horcruxes into it. "I brought your goodies."

Voldemort held out a hand for the bag, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. As Harry reached him, the Dark Lord took the bag in one hand, then drew Harry forward by his sleeve, eyes on his wand. "That is not your wand," he commented.

"Hm?" Harry held the wand up and looked it over. It was rather worn around the edges. "No," he agreed, "it's not."

Behind Harry, Lucius let out a faint sound of surprise. "That's Kaus Gumboil's wand. He's been missing for almost two years now."

"Oh, was that his name?" Harry wondered, gently slipping his arm from Voldemort's grip and turning to look at Lucius, whose eyes widened further. "I never knew."

"And what did you do to Mr Gumboil?" Voldemort wondered, amused.

"Mmm..." Harry considered the wand for a moment, then slipped it in his pocket. "I don't think I'll tell you. He was quite naughty, though, selling children in Knockturn Alley." Harry offered the Dark Lord a bright smile. "He tried selling me, but I convinced him it was a bad idea."

Voldemort let out a cackle while Lucius looked at Harry like he couldn't decide if the boy was insane or not. Harry winked at him, just to watch the pureblood choke. "You keep your secrets, Potter. I shall enjoy discovering them," Voldemort decided.

"I'll enjoy watching you try," Harry agreed. Then he turned to Lucius and cocked his head to one side. "You'll have to forgive my ignorance, but how would Mr Weasley go about getting his bill passed? Does it go through the Wizengamot? Or through Fudge?"

"The Wizengamot," Lucius replied, brow furrowed.

Harry nodded to himself, then turned back to the Dark Lord. "No more sending Death Eaters to stalk me or you'll get the next one back in pieces," he warned, getting a cackle out of Voldemort, then he walked back to his dark corner and shadowed to Diagon Alley. A quick glamour spell ensured no one would look at him twice.

It was nothing against Mr Weasley, really, but Harry didn't intend to see his bill passed. He'd always been fond of his eccentric father-in-law, but the man's fondness for mundanes would get them all killed. Harry couldn't let that bill pass.

A floo trip to the Ministry later and Harry was off across the foyer. The Ministry cards in his pocket – he always kept them on him, just in case he ever felt the urge to travel to the Ministry – allowed him to pass the wand registration desk without incident, only recording who had been by. (Harry wished he could be a fly on the wall when they realised that four missing persons had visited the Ministry all at once. It really was a pity they didn't have any sort of visual surveillance system.)

Having worked in the Ministry – even a much changed Ministry – for forty-some years, Harry knew exactly where he needed to go to find information on the members of the Wizengamot. Once in the office, he turned on his vampire charm with the witch behind the desk, flirting with her and subtly slipping in questions about the Wizengamot while utilising Legilimency to learn even more.

An hour and a half later, Harry left the Ministry with a satisfied smile. Now all he needed to do was take out a few of the mundane-friendly members and Arthur's bill would be shot down in no time. The only thing he had to worry about was if they replaced members to make up for those he did away with, but few people were really interested in serving on that body in Harry's time and he doubted the wizarding world had changed that much after the war.

At any rate, he'd keep an eye on matters when he could.

Harry smirked to himself a bit when Dudley stumbled into the living room on the twenty-seventh of July, as he did every morning. His fat cousin walked over to the telly, turned it on, then made to walk to the couch. He froze the moment he recognised Harry, who was sprawled out quite comfortably on the couch, book on magical Chinese history resting on his stomach in a prime reading position.

"Good morning, Diddy-dums," Harry cooed. "I thought I'd see for myself how comfortable this seat was, since you spend so much time on it. I admit, it's probably better suited to you, what with your rolls of fat and all, but it's relatively nice to stretch out over."

Dudley blinked, then called, "Mum! He's in my seat!"

Petunia came to the doorway, nervously wringing her hands in her apron. "Leave him be, sweetums. He'll be gone soon enough."

"We should have thrown a party," Harry commented, idly pulling the remote out from under the edge of the couch and flipping off the telly. "Sort of a, 'Thank Merlin we're done with each other!' gig. I might have even been talked into baking the cake. Oh well. Too late now."

Petunia had tensed when Harry mentioned 'Merlin' and had paled when he'd commented he would have baked the cake. "Come along, Diddy, luv," she said, focusing on her son. "I've made your favourite for breakfast."

Dudley shot a disgusted look at Harry, but a lifetime of avoidance had taught him that walking away from his cousin was always in his best interest, so he followed his mother into the kitchen without complaint.

Harry chuckled to himself and scooted down a little farther on the couch before returning to his book. He'd miss living at Privet Drive, if only for the amusement factor.

About an hour later, the door bell rang and Harry glanced up from his book to watch his aunt hurry out into the hallway and open the door. "Oh," she sighed, then looked around the corner into the living room. "Your... person is here."

Harry smiled a chilled smile. "My godfather, Aunt Petunia."

She swallowed. "Yes, your god...father..." She grimaced. Vernon had spent the past several days wondering if it was legal for 'freaks' to have god-anythings when he thought Harry wasn't in hearing range. Harry had considered correcting his stupidity, but eventually decided he'd have to kill the man to correct that and he wasn't sure his digestion could handle the man's soul.

Perhaps he'd come back next summer with a carving knife. He had planned to do something terrible to the man on his thirteenth birthday.

But, for now, he had a godfather to meet, so Harry got up and walked over to the doorway. When he saw Sirius, he couldn't help but laugh, as the man had come wearing a mini dress and heels. "I can't believe they had shoes in your size," Harry commented once he'd got his laughter under control.

"I had to transfigure them," Sirius admitted, smiling like a loon. "I considered shaving my legs, too, but decided it would be too much of a hassle."

Harry snorted. "I think you look brilliant. Are we apparating, or going by motorbike?"

"Like you even had to ask," Sirius replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at where his motorcycle sat at the kerb. "Have you got everything, then?"

Harry nodded. "Trunk's in my pocket."

"Excellent. Let's get the hell out of suburbia, then. Place gives me the creeps." He turned and started down the pavement.

Harry turned to Petunia, smile razor sharp. "It's been lots of fun; here's hoping we'll never see each other again."

Petunia managed a jerky nod and slammed the door shut as soon as Harry was out of the way.

Harry slipped his book into one of his expanded pockets, then hopped onto the bike behind his godfather, absently slipping on the helmet Sirius handed him. "So, I probably don't want to know the answer to this, but... Are you wearing anything under that?"

"Of course not. I'm wearing muggle clothing in true wizarding style!" Sirius declared before revving the motor.

Harry groaned – he really hadn't wanted to know – but wrapped his arms around Sirius' stomach anyway. He'd never ridden with his godfather on the motorcycle before, but knowing how insane the man was...

Sirius hit the gas and they were off like a shot, breezing past stop signs and turning corners at dangerous speeds.

Yup. Harry knew the man was insane. At least he was in good company.

Neville's birthday party had been rather tame, with only Hermione and Harry there from school. The rest of the guests had been older members of Neville's extended family and there had been very little in the way of 'partying' going on.

Harry's party, on the other hand, had been absolutely insane. He'd basically let Sirius have free reign over the planning, which probably hadn't been his brightest moment, but Harry had never claimed to be completely sane. The dog animagus had invited pretty much the entirety of Harry's year, minus the Slytherins, as well as most of his old school and Order friends and their families. Remus, sadly, had been unable to make it due to the nearby full moon, and he'd been the only person beyond Harry's school friends that he'd cared to see at the party.

"Sirius, I don't even know half these people," Harry pointed out over the music and laughing.

"But it's a lot of fun, isn't it?" Sirius shouted back.

Harry rolled his eyes and slipped back into the fray to find his friends. Next year, he was making the guest list.

Harry had tried everything to avoid visiting Diagon Alley on the same day as Lockhart's book signing, but to no avail. All of his friends – except Lillian, who was, perhaps, the brightest of the lot – had decided to go on that particular day.

"Can we do Flourish and Blotts first?" Harry pleaded as he and Sirius made their way out into the alley. They were supposed to meet with the Grangers, Longbottoms and Sus – Terry was still staying with Li – at the bank.

"Nope, sorry. No can do," Sirius replied, practically whistling. "Gotta be there for the book signing. Those books could be worth a lot of money one day."

"You are so full of crap," Harry grumbled. "Those books'll be worth more defaced than signed."

Sirius grinned at him. "I really don't know what you have against this bloke. He's got a fantastic smile!"

"Your over-the-top gayness scares me sometimes. Between you and Dumbledore, I'll be scarred for life."

"He does seem a little gay, doesn't he?" Sirius pondered.

"I wonder if Lockhart is gay," Harry mused, tapping his chin. "You two would make a nice couple, him being so pretty and you being... well... you."

Sirius shot Harry an amused look. "Aren't you a little young to be trying to set me up with other blokes?"

"You're never too young for revenge!" Harry declared, an evil idea forming. "You and Snape compliment–"

"OH DEAR MERLIN, MY BRAIN!" Sirius howled, grabbing his head and hunching into a ball in the middle of the street.

Harry whistled to himself and finished walking the last few feet to where his friends and their families were waiting. "Hi!"

"What did you do to him?" Terry wondered, looking over Harry's shoulder with a disturbed look.

"Broke him a little, but don't worry, he's got a self-repairing spell built in," Harry quipped. "Give it another ten minutes or so. For now, perhaps we can gather our money?" He nodded to the bank behind them.

"I can't decide whether or not I'm upset by this," Hermione murmured as the adults traded looks and silently agreed to head inside. "I mean, he's your guardian, but he's also a little..." She trailed off and bit her lower lip uncertainly.

"Completely and utterly mad, is the phrase you're looking for," Terry offered. "Bonkers, even. Off his rocker. Gone round the bend–"

"Yes, thank you, Terry," Li cut in, rolling her eyes. "We get it."

"Do you need Sirius here to go down to your vault?" Neville asked Harry as Terry and the Grangers all peeled off to exchange their money.

Harry shook his head. "Nah. Honestly, I probably don't need to go down at all, but it's always nice to top off my pouch." He pulled his money pouch out of his pocket and jingled it a bit.

"Fùqīn would never let me carry around that much money," Li whispered, eyeing the adults with concern. "He barely allows me a galleon for the sweets trolley."

"Well, I've never had an adult around to tell me how much money I can or can't carry with me," Harry replied with a shrug, stuffing his pouch away as a goblin came to collect them for the trip down. "Anyway, my parents left me a fortune, so I can afford to splurge a little on things like extra books or a pile of chocolate frogs."

"And your godfather will not complain?"

"Sirius?" Harry snorted. "Merlin, no. He's got a fortune all his own, just in case I ever overspend. That cottage we're living in? He bought it when he got released and it barely dented his fortune."

Li stared at him with wide eyes and almost tripped trying to get into the cart. Harry and Neville both reached out to help her, chuckling. Li wasn't anywhere near as poor as the Weasleys, but she wasn't in the same league as Harry or Neville, either, since both of them were from old pureblood families.

When they got back up to the foyer, pockets full of jingling coins, Sirius was standing with the Grangers and Terry, looking a little grumpy. He'd also changed his robes – which had been a fine shade of dark maroon – to a bright, Gryffindor red, with little flashing gold lions.

"My eyes," Harry complained, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. "Good Merlin, man! Are you trying to blind me?"

"You're already well on your way," Sirius replied with humour, "I figured I'd just speed up the process."

Harry moaned. "I'm not sure I'm talking to you anymore."

They all set out then, generating quite a few stares thanks to Sirius' eye-catching robes. Harry took care to walk directly in front of his godfather so he wouldn't chance being blinded. Sirius made this particularly hard by weaving back and forth a bit so he could get in Harry's peripheral vision, which always got a whimper from the boy.

The few things they needed other than their books were collected quickly enough and then only Flourish and Blotts was left. As they approached it, they could clearly see it was overfull and Harry said, "Hey, it looks pretty packed. Maybe we should come back tomorrow?"

"But I want to meet Lockhart!" Hermione complained, looking hopefully at the shop.

"He is very handsome," Li agreed, smiling a bit.

"I have lost all respect for the both of you," Harry decided.

"You've been out-voted," Sirius commented as Li grabbed Terry's arm and Hermione shoved Neville towards the shop. "You can either keep soldiering on like a good godson, or I'll drag you and you'll have to look at my robes."

"You cheat," Harry complained, but followed his friends and their guardians towards the shop.

Inside was a madhouse, as Harry remembered. Witches were crowded together, jostling for the best view as Lockhart came out and flashed his smile.

"I will be upstairs," Harry informed his godfather before escaping the madness up on the second level, which a number of other wizards were wandering around on. Harry let out a relieved breath; the last thing he needed was to be accosted by Lockhart again. It was bad enough the man would be teaching them this year.

Harry had actually considered hunting the bastard down and sucking out his soul before he could take the post of Defence professor, but Lockhart's popularity made it difficult to catch him alone long enough for Harry to finish him. He'd just have to wait until school started.

Lockhart's voice filtered up from the mass on the ground floor and Harry sighed as he heard the man beginning his usual, 'I'm so awesome, look at my pretty smile,' bit. He felt a tick developing in his left eye and hurried further into the shelves, trying to escape the man's voice.

"Mr Potter," a stiff voice said.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and smirked a bit as he caught sight of platinum blond hair. "Mr Malfoy, what a pleasure. How is your... house guest?"

Lucius cleared his throat a bit. "As well as can be expected. I've heard you've a new living arrangement. How is that working out for you?"

"Idle chit-chat?" Harry wondered, leaning against a bookcase. "How unexpected. Sirius and I get along fine, for all our different views of the world. How did your attempts against Mr Weasley's bill go?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Rather well, actually. A number of Wizengamot members who would have voted for it went missing rather mysteriously a few weeks ago. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that?"

Harry's eyes took on a faintly demonic gleam. "Perhaps they crossed paths with an angry vampire," he suggested. "I'm sure they'll never be seen again, at any rate."

"I'm sure they won't," Lucius agreed, eyes flicking up to look at something behind Harry. "Ah, Draco."

"Father," Draco replied, stepping forward and looking at Harry with some curiosity. "Potter."

Harry smiled faintly. "Draco. I'm surprised you're not downstairs, mocking Ron."

"I'm surprised you even know the weasel's name," Draco retorted.

"Mmm... He came to my birthday party," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Along with everyone else not in the House of snakes, I've heard," the younger blond commented, looking rather like a pouting child.

Harry reached up and gently patted Draco's cheek. "Don't worry, next time I'll be the one making the guest list." Draco flushed a bit in anger as Harry turned back to Lucius. "Give my regards to your house guest."

"Of course," Lucius agreed neutrally.

"See you in a couple weeks, Draco," Harry offered to his yearmate, who still looked a bit upset. Then Harry turned and started back towards the stairs, hoping Sirius was bloody-well done listening to the puffed-up peacock downstairs so they could go home; Harry was afraid his ears were about to start bleeding.

The sweets trolley had already gone by and Harry was utterly sick of hearing about Lockhart from Hermione and Li. Even Terry seemed a bit interested in the bastard and Neville had retreated to the plant he'd brought with him for his bedside table and was having a one-sided conversation with it. Harry felt a bit like he was the only sane one in the compartment – which was wrong on so many levels.

"I'm going to visit Lillian!" he shouted over the extolling of Lockhart's virtues before he pretty much ran out of the compartment and slammed the door behind him. "Oh, dear Merlin, save me," he muttered, starting down the hall to the Slytherin girl's usual compartment. "I don't know if I can take another minute of this, let alone a year. Ugh."

"Hello, Harry," Lillian said as he opened their compartment door.

"Go. Away," Morag ordered.

Harry grunted and dropped himself into the tiny space between Lillian and the wall, making the girl snort. "I don't want to hear a single word about Lockhart," he muttered.

"Why not?" Millicent asked, leaning around Lillian. "I think it's wonderful that we'll have–"

Harry jumped up and dashed out the door, leaving the girls all staring after him as the door slid closed.

"Sanity, sweet sanity, why have you abandoned me? Surely there's someone on this train who's not gone nutty?"

Harry walked the halls for a while, shying away from any compartments with girls in them and stopping occasionally to say hello to some of his male friends and commiserate about the Lockhart Madness going around.

Finally, after walking almost the entire length of the train, he found a compartment with the one occupant he hadn't yet spoken to in this life. He slid the door open and stuck his head in. "Hello, there."

Wide silvery grey eyes looked up at him from an issue of the Quibbler. "Oh, hello. Were you just going to stand there and stare at me?" Luna Lovegood asked.

"Erm, maybe. You're not nutters about Lockhart, are you?"

"Should I be?" Luna wondered.

"I'd rather you weren't, honestly."

"Then I'm not," Luna decided before returning to her magazine.

Harry smiled a bit and stepped over to the seat across from her. He stretched out over it, pulled out one of his mundane psychology books – a recent interest of his – and settled in to read.

They were both silent for a few hours, content to read in each other's company. Eventually, however, Luna finished her magazine and set it to one side before considering Harry.

After a few minutes of being stared at, Harry glanced over at her. "Yes?"

"You're quite different from what I expected," Luna offered, "but I suppose anyone who'd died once would be a bit strange."

Harry jerked up in his seat and turned to face Luna, book forgotten next to him. "What did you just say?"

Luna smiled a bit dreamily. "You have Death's Mark," she offered. "He changes the people he's chosen."

"One of these days," Harry griped, "I'm going to figure out how you and Ollivander can figure out this stuff."

Luna blinked slowly. "Perhaps you're just looking at the wrong thing."

"Hn." Harry lay back down on his bench. "I don't suppose you've met Death too, have you?"

Luna gave a high laugh. "Met him? Oh, no. I've only heard stories."

"The Tale of the Three Brothers."

"And others. Death isn't all that popular a character, but he always seems to find his way into stories." She cocked her head to one side. "If you met Death, why didn't you die?"

Harry considered Luna seriously for a long moment, then slowly sat back up. "There were things I had to do; people I had to save."

"Everyone dies eventually," Luna pointed out, but she didn't sound disapproving, just curious.

Harry inclined his head. "Very true, and I have no intention of keeping my friends alive indefinitely; but I do want the end of their lives to be easier than they were. Will be. Whatever."

Luna nodded and picked her Quibbler back up to start reading it again.

Harry watched the strange girl for a few more minutes before picking his book back up and returning to reading it. Out of all of his friends, it seemed right that Luna would be the one to understand first.

"I'm not sure I can last until the winter hols," Harry muttered, dropping into the chair next to Luna. Terry and Li were both still mad about Lockhart, so Harry often spent his time with the blonde first year. Luna had yet to tell him to bugger off, so he kept coming back.

"If he vanishes the day everyone's leaving for holiday, they'll assume he's just gone home," Luna offered neutrally, not looking up from her essay.

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't solve my problem now," Harry replied.

"What will you do with the body?" Luna wondered.

"Feed it to a basilisk," Harry said without pause, having already worked that out. In fact, he'd already worked out pretty much everything. It was the waiting that was killing him. "Luna, amuse me," he ordered.

Luna groped at her side for a moment for her bag. Once she'd found it, she felt around inside for the latest Quibbler, then slid it over to Harry, all without looking up.

Harry rolled his eyes, but leaned back in the chair and opened it up to a page that had been marked. His first reaction, upon seeing Lockhart's giant face, was to rip the thing to shreds. But then he actually read the article title: 'Long-Time Lover of Lockhart Bares All - Gilderoy Gay?'

Harry sat forward in his chair and read the article all about this guy who claimed to be Lockhart's gay lover for the past ten years. Some of the details were practically pornographic, but the whole thing lifted Harry's spirits sufficiently and he enjoyed the laugh. "This is fantastic, Luna. Do you mind if I keep it?"

"I have another copy," Luna replied absently.

"You're the best." Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek before jumping up and bounding upstairs to put the article on his wall next to Stephen's art of Ministry workers being killed. Stephen was already working on a new series of pictures depicting Lockhart's various deaths that he promised to give Harry this Christmas. Harry would have to suggest a picture of Lockhart being eaten by a fifty-foot basilisk.

Harry kicked his feet absently against the teacher's desk as he waited for his prey to show up. Lockhart always seemed to take forever at meals, but things should be pretty much winding down, what with all the students leaving in an hour. Harry had already gone back into the office and vanished all the man's things – he hadn't even wanted to touch the things for fear of germs – so now he was just waiting for the man himself.

Finally, the door to the classroom popped open and Lockhart stepped in, whistling a bit and smiling a lot. He paused and blinked a few times when he finally saw Harry. Then he smiled his most blinding smile and hurried forward. "Harry, Harry! I see you've finally come to me for help in managing your fame!"

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the man. "Managing my fame?" he asked. "Why would I come to you for that? I'd be more likely to ask the Headmaster for help. No, I'm afraid I'm here for a much different reason." Harry's lips turned up with a cold smile. "A much more... pleasing one."

He hopped off the desk and took two steps forward to where Lockhart was frozen in surprise, then opened his mouth and sucked down the man's soul.

"Oh. Ew. That was... Ugh. I think I'm going to hurl," Harry complained, gagging a bit. "Oh dear Merlin, that was, quite possibly, the worst thing I've ever eaten. That tops Sirius' casserole surprise." He shook his head and turned back to the soulless body in front of him. "Please don't be contagious," he muttered, grabbing Lockhart's arm. A wave of his wand drew the curtains over the windows, throwing the room into darkness.

Once Harry had shadowed Lockhart down to the Chamber and left him there as snake food, he shadowed to a cupboard off the entrance hall, then stepped out to join everyone as they made for the carriages to the train. Sirius had talked him into coming to visit for Christmas and Harry had agreed with the stipulation that his godfather let Harry cook Christmas dinner.

"How does it feel to be going home for Christmas?" Lillian asked as she appeared at Harry's elbow.

Harry glanced suspiciously around her, half expecting Millicent or Morag to pop up and start waxing poetic about Lockhart. "Kind of nice. Where are your groupies?"

Lillian blinked in confusion, then snorted when she realised who he meant. "Tracey and Morag went ahead so they didn't have to see you, and Millicent left last night by floo so she wouldn't miss her portkey; her family's travelling to Canada for the holidays."

"Hn." Harry shrugged and they climbed into a carriage together. Since very few people would get into a carriage with a Slytherin, they started out after a few minutes without any additions.

"I know you're a half-blood and all, but did you receive an invite to the Christmas Ball?" Lillian wondered.

Harry, who had been watching the passing forest out the window, glanced towards her and shrugged. "Yes, but I very much doubt I'll be allowed to go. Sirius doesn't care for pureblood gatherings." His lips curled with a smile. "Although, it may be for the best. Knowing my dear godfather, if he came, he'd dress for the occasion, and no one wants to see that."

Lillian grimaced, having heard about how the last of the Blacks had dressed to pick up his godson. "Fair point. Still, we'll miss having you there."

"You might, but I know plenty of people who will be all the happier if I miss," Harry retorted, amused.

"Not as many as you might think. You did get an invite, after all."

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry pointed out as the train came into view. "I would be the talk of the year if I attended a pureblood gathering, especially one that attracts the sort of crowd this one does."

Lillian sighed, silently conceding the point. The Malfoys' Christmas Balls were known for their exclusive guest list. Families like the Longbottoms or Weasleys would never be invited, simply for their Lighter leanings. Even Minister Fudge had never gotten an invite, for all that he sucked up to Lucius practically year-round.

The two stepped together onto the train and wandered down the hallways, glancing into crowded compartments for a place to sit. Harry's friends were mostly staying in the castle over the holidays, only Neville going home. The Gryffindor boy, Harry knew, would be more comfortable sitting with his Housemates than Harry, especially without Hermione there to run interference. For all that Neville was okay with Harry, the half-blood was just the right amount of crazy that Neville was never sure if he was taking the mickey or not.

They finally came across a mostly-empty compartment and Harry slid the door open, not so much to take it over, but because of its occupant. "I thought you were staying at the castle?"

Luna looked up at him from her Charms book. "Oh, yes. Daddy's travel plans fell through when the man he was supposed to meet with about the Blibbering Humdinger mysteriously died."

"Mysteriously?" Harry repeated, amused.

Luna nodded. "That's what the report in the Daily Prophet said, but Daddy and I agree it must have been the Blibbering Humdinger. They very much dislike being in captivity."

"Vicious little blighters," Harry agreed, moving into the compartment to sit across from Luna.

Lillian looked troubled for a moment before sighing and joining the two Ravenclaws in the compartment. "Lillian Moon," she said to the first year in introduction.

"Luna Lovegood," Luna replied absently, eyes on Harry. "How did your meeting with the peacock go?"

Harry's lips turned up at the corners and satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. "Fantastically. I introduced him to a snake I know of and left them to get acquainted."

Luna smiled ever so faintly. "I wonder who we'll have for Defence after Christmas?"

"Hopefully someone who isn't a great fraud."

Lillian blinked at them. "You think Lockhart's going to leave because of some snake? What did you do, lock him in Professor Snape's office?"

Harry chuckled. "No, though that would have been fun. More the pity."

"Then what did you do to the man? And don't try playing innocent with me!"

Harry's eyes darkened with amusement. "I left him in Salazar Slytherin's famed Chamber of Secrets," he replied. "The basilisk is always hungry."

Lillian's eyes went wide. "You–!"

"Or I would have, if I were a Parselmouth," Harry added as he pulled out a book to read. "Maybe we'll all luck out and the ponce will have eloped with his gay lover."

Lillian spent a good hour simply watching as the two Ravenclaws read as if nothing had happened. Eventually, she got bored and stood. "Well, Harry, I'll see you in two weeks, assuming you don't make it to the Christmas Ball."

"Have a good Christmas, Lillian," Harry replied, looking up from his book and shooting her a smile.

As soon as the compartment door had closed, Luna dreamily wondered, "What does peacock taste like?"

"Wild berries that have been shat out. And, for the love of all that's magical, don't ask me how I know how that tastes."

Luna glanced up at him, mischief in her wide eyes. "Whose faeces–?"

"Luna!"

The girl burst out laughing while Harry moaned and covered his eyes.

Harry didn't need to have experienced Christmas with his godfather to know that if he wasn't up in time, Sirius would wake him up in the most obnoxious manner he could. So when Sirius came in at the crack of dawn to wake Harry, he found the boy already dressed in a house robe, book resting on his stomach as he read.

"Do you ever put those books down?" Sirius demanded.

"I could hunt down the authors and suck the knowledge out of them like some sort of dementor-human hybrid, if you'd prefer," Harry retorted as he marked his spot.

Sirius made a face. "Okay, new rule. We don't mention dementors or soul sucking on holidays. Ever."

Harry rolled his eyes and levered himself out of bed. "You have no sense of humour."

"...you are completely inexplicable," Sirius decided, shaking his head. "Did those muggles break you?"

"I got hit in the head with a Killing Curse and he blames my oddities on the mundanes," Harry muttered to himself as he preceded his godfather downstairs to the tree.

"Muggles have mysterious ways!" Sirius defended.

"I think Azkaban rotted your brain!"

"No debate there," Sirius replied before dropping to the floor next to the tree and grinning hopefully up at Harry as the boy looked around for a chair to sit in. "Come on, it's Christmas! Sit on the floor!"

Harry sighed and dropped lightly to the floor. "I don't understand what it being a mundane religious holiday has to do with sitting on the floor."

Sirius shot him an odd look, then waved his wand and sent the packages from under the tree zooming to their respective giftee. "Presents!" Sirius declared with a disturbing amount of glee before pouncing on a random gift and ripping the paper to shreds.

Harry sighed and looked over his disturbingly large pile before picking out one from one of his friends and opening it carefully. He continued in that vein while Sirius demolished his pile, then turned greedy eyes on Harry's. Harry rolled his eyes at his godfather and shoved a section of his pile from people he didn't know towards his godfather, much to Sirius' glee.

Terry had given Harry the second book of a set on Chinese ritual magic; he'd given Harry the first one for his birthday. Li gifted him with a magical charm from China that was supposed to help him retain information better, which worked best, Li had noted, when worn between one's eyes, but could also be worn as an earring, necklace or hair decoration. Hermione had given him a lovely eagle-feather quill. Neville had given him a couple singing lilies to plant in the summer and Harry made a note to put them in the garden out front as soon as he got home in June.

From Stephen was the expected art of Lockhart dying in different ways. He'd added in the piece of Lockhart being torn apart by a giant snake, then gone with the theme and also drawn pictures of the other House animals taking their turns. Sirius, predictably enough, had bought Harry a Nimbus 2001. Harry wasn't on the Quidditch team this time around, but he still loved flying, and the school brooms sucked. The Nimbus would get plenty of exercise.

Lillian, continuing the trend from last Christmas, sent him a glass stag figurine. He'd mentioned in passing one afternoon in the library that his father had been a stag animagus, partially hoping she'd send him one to go with his glass lily. Luna had also sent him a glass figurine, but hers was meant more as a joke and it got a surprised laugh from him.

"What?" Sirius looked up from yet another box of sweets. As soon as he saw the glass peacock, he frowned a bit and asked, "Why is it decapitated?"

Harry snorted and covered his mouth. "Erm, Luna and I refer to Lockhart as a peacock," he explained, gently setting the statue next to the stag and out of harm's way.

Sirius sighed and shook his head. For all that Luna sounded a little odd to him – Harry had mentioned her a few times in his letters – she was certainly better than that Slytherin friend of Harry's. Sirius honestly wasn't sure how those two had become friends and managed to remain such for a year and a half. Surely Harry had discovered the evils of snakes by now?

But, no, Harry liked snakes, even the animal kind. Sirius had caught him scaring a hawk away from a wounded snake in the backyard over the summer. Sirius honestly didn't know what had happened to the snake, but Harry had never tried bringing it in, seemingly understanding that his godfather wouldn't be okay with it. (Honestly, Sirius was absolutely terrified of snakes, so he was glad Harry hadn't tried bringing the thing inside.)

The rest of Harry's gifts were from people who'd attended his birthday party and felt obligated to send a gift. About half of them sent books – most Harry had read and owned, some he hadn't – or sweets, such as the box Sirius had open in his lap. Harry wasn't looking forward to writing thank you notes, but at least he had a few Trace-free wands he could use to speed up the process.

After sorting his extra gifts into piles either for him – the books he didn't have and any chocolate – or for Sirius – the books he already owned and any other sweets – he started the long, tedious process of moving his things up to his room while Sirius dithered over which books to add to his own library and which ones to toss.

Once both of them were done, they shuffled into the kitchen and Harry tossed together a quick breakfast. After that was cleaned up, Harry set about preparing dinner while Sirius left the kitchen under penalty of dog kibble.

Harry turned on the wireless and quietly sang along to the songs he knew while he went through the familiar motions of making a Christmas dinner. While Molly had still been alive, she had often been the one in charge of making the large family meals, only allowing her children to help with the small things. When she died – of old age, about twelve years before Ginny – Harry had taken over the making of family meals, having long moved past his lingering resentment from the Dursleys making him cook for them as a kid.

Now, in a different world, it seemed strange to be making a Christmas dinner for only two people. He'd considered inviting all his friends stuck at the school to enjoy the holidays with Sirius and him, but hadn't been sure how they'd react to him cooking food. It was nowhere near normal for a twelve-year-old to be so proficient in the kitchen. Honestly, Harry was lucky Sirius had been willing to accept his excuse of helping Petunia with large meals, or he'd probably be stuck with Sirius' cooking. Or Chinese food.

As Harry started on the pie, he forcibly turned his thoughts to a new track: the Malfoy Christmas Ball. He'd received his invite shortly after Hallowe'en and immediately replied that he most likely wouldn't be making it, due to his guardian's views of his cousin and her family. Narcissa had personally sent back her understanding and added that they would keep him on the guest list in case he was able to make it, but they wouldn't expect him.

The real question was, did Harry want to go to the Ball?

Harry had spent most of the last month mulling over the pros and cons. On one hand, the Ball would be a great place to be seen and make connections among like-minded individuals. However, on the flip side of that, if the wrong person saw him there, it would completely ruin him. He was under no delusions about what the wizarding public would do if they found out their saviour and champion hated mundanes as much as Voldemort, and Harry had no interest in testing his Occlumency barriers against real dementors. (Though it might be interesting to see what happened if he tried sucking out the soul of a dementor.)

At any rate, going to Azkaban was out of the question, and as much as Sirius irritated him, Harry didn't want his godfather to find out that his godson was a murderer. Not like that.

So, going to the Ball wasn't an option, but it was also too good an opportunity to pass up.

What to do... What to do...

"I'm surprised you dared show your face, even such a poorly known one," he commented to Tom Riddle as he came to stand next to him.

The Dark Lord glanced down at the pale-eyed apparent vampire at his side. "And you are?"

Pale eyes glittered up at Riddle as a smile curled his lips. "The one you Marked as your equal."

Riddle jerked at that, then narrowed his eyes. "Potter?"

The smile widened. "Yes. However, I'm currently using the name Xerosis."

"A skin condition?"

Xerosis coughed. "Skin or eyes, thanks. What did you do, memorise a dictionary?"

Riddle grunted and turned sharp blue eyes towards the dance floor again. "I'm surprised to see you here. I was under the impression your 'guardian' wouldn't let you come."

"Sirius doesn't know I'm here. We're currently playing Monopoly in the living room."

Riddle glanced back at him. "You have a time-turner."

"Would you believe me if I said a fan sent it to me?"

"No."

"Mm. Pity." Xerosis sipped at his wine and glanced over the guests, making note of who was there and who they were talking to. "I snuck into the Department of Mysteries and stole one. Or I will, in about... five hours, I believe."

"You make a very bad poster boy for the Light."

"I've decided that my sole purpose in life is to serve as a bad example," Xerosis retorted. "Or, at the very least, completely break the people who would stand against me." He glanced back up at the Dark Lord. "How long are you planning to hide out and plot, anyway? I get that you need to re-gather your forces, but how long before you start decimating leeches?"

"Leeches?" Riddle replied, lips curling unintentionally with amusement.

"Mundanes, muggles... Whatever."

Riddle glanced back down at the boy. "Mundanes?"

Xerosis shrugged. "My aunt's word for non-magicals."

"Only one person I know calls muggles 'mundanes'," Lillian's voice declared from behind the two wizards. When Xerosis turned to her with one eyebrow raised, she smiled. "I'm glad you could make it. Even if you did have to come in costume."

Xerosis rolled his eyes. "Do you have a radar or something?" Lillian smirked a bit and Xerosis snorted. "Whatever. Thank you for my gift, by the way."

"Of course. And thank you for mine." She struck a pose and her new necklace glittered in the candlelight.

"It looks good on you," Xerosis complimented.

Riddle cleared his throat. "I assume this is one of your friends?" he asked.

"Lillian Moon," the girl offered with a brief curtsy.

Riddle's lips curled with a dark smile. "You have your mother's eyes, Miss Moon."

Lillian's eyes narrowed. "Few dare to mention my mother, sir. Might I inquire as to your name?"

"I am Lord Voldemort," Riddle informed the girl, enjoying the way her face paled.

"Merlin save me from megalomaniacs," Xerosis muttered, rubbing at his eyes. "Lillian, calm down. He's under oath to not harm you."

"Potter–"

"Xerosis," Harry reminded him, seeing Lillian's father approaching.

"Is something wrong, Lily?" Mr Moon asked, touching his daughter's shoulder and eyeing the two males sternly.

Lillian cleared her throat and nodded. "Everything's fine, Father. We were just discussing... um–"

"The Ministry's cruelty," Xerosis smoothly inserted. "A friend of mine was recently hunted down for preying on a mudblood. We were... unaware... of Miss Moon's own grudge against the Ministry and I fear we might have upset her. My apologies." He sketched a perfect bow.

Mr Moon blinked a few times in surprise while Lillian's mouth dropped at her friend's smooth cover. "I– Please, no apologies needed. Lily seems fine, right, darling?"

Lillian snapped her mouth shut and managed a smile for her father. "Yes, just fine. Don't worry about me, Father."

Mr Moon nodded. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

Once he'd left, Lillian turned on her friend. "That was practically Slytherin."

Xerosis smirked. "I did tell you there was a chance I'd end up in the House of snakes."

"Well, yes. But usually you're too busy being a mad Ravenclaw with his nose stuck in a book, that I forgot about that."

"That was sort of the point."

Riddle snorted. "You? A mad Ravenclaw? I can't see it."

"I also do a disturbingly realistic Gryffindor," Xerosis quipped, shooting the Dark Lord a wild smile. "If we ever face each other in public, I promise I'll put on a good show."

"Strangely, I think I'm looking forward to it," Riddle decided. "Well, Potter – Xerosis – I'll take my leave. Enjoy the rest of your year."

"I'll give Alissia your love!" Xerosis called after him, naming the basilisk in the Chamber.

Riddle shot him a sharp look, then snorted. "Don't forget to feed her while you're forcing yourself on her, lest she eat you."

Xerosis chuckled and turned back to Lillian, who was looking at him like he was mad. Well, madder than usual. "Yes?"

"I'm still trying to wrap my brain around you being on speaking terms – pleasant speaking terms, at that – with the Dark Lord."

"We hashed things out over the summer," Xerosis replied, waving the discussion away. "Now, why don't you show me around? And perhaps we could do a circuit around the dance floor?"

Lillian smiled. "You know how to dance?"

"I know how to do many things, my dear," Xerosis teased, taking her arm. "I am, after all, a vampire." He flashed his fangs at her.

Lillian snorted. "Of course, how could I have missed that. And how old are you?"

Xerosis chuckled. "Not quite a century, yet. Ninety-six."

Lillian shook her head. "Sure you are. Alright, Xerosis, wasn't it?"

"That's correct."

"What does that even mean?"

"Evil, mundane-killing, child vampire," he retorted.

"You're so full of it."

"But you love me anyway."

Lillian laughed, glancing over at him with a fond smile. "I suppose I must, to put up with you all the time. Come on, I'll introduce you to my friends. Properly, this time."

"Without the spitting of the ground I walk on and the thumbing of their noses?"

"With any luck, they'll actually like you once they give you a chance."

"One can only hope."

"What did you do for your break?" Luna asked as Harry took the seat across from her.

"Ate a couple of souls, stole a time-turner, joked with a Dark Lord, and crashed a ball. You?"

Luna smiled dreamily. "I painted my ceiling."

Harry smiled back. "I'll have to come see it this summer."

"Okay," Luna agreed before burying her nose in the most recent Quibbler.

Harry pulled his own copy out. "Thanks, by the way, for the subscription. And the peacock."

"Of course, Harry."

They both settled in to read for the trip, at peace with each other.

The Ministry had lent Hogwarts the use of an auror who'd been wounded in action during Christmas and wasn't allowed back on active duty until late June. Auror Sian certainly knew what he was talking about – in fact, he'd banned all of Lockhart's books from his classroom the first day – but he disliked children on principle. He seemed to get on well enough with the seventh years and he tolerated the sixth years, but everyone else was gum on the bottom of his shoe.

Harry loved him. During his third class, he started up an argument on the use of Veritaserum during criminal trials. During his sixth class, they spent almost forty-five minutes debating the moral repercussions of using the Unforgivables during the first war against the Death Eaters. For the ninth class, Harry asked about what sort of Dark spells aurors used in their line of work and how they justified that while chasing men and women who used the exact same spells.

"Potter," Auror Sian replied, "either shut up and let me teach, or start coming to my classes with the seventh years. You're confusing your classmates."

Harry grinned a bit madly. "I'll do that, sir," he agreed and Sian had snorted before returning to their lesson on the disarming charm.

After that, Harry started attending the seventh year classes when he didn't have a class of his own. At the start, the seventh years seemed quite displeased with the interloper, but then Harry started a debate with one of them about which of three shield charms would hold up best under a blasting curse and they slowly accepted him as being on the same level knowledge-wise, even if no one would let him try casting any of the spells they discussed.

By the end of the year, Harry decided it had been the best year of his entire Hogwarts career. When he mentioned that to his friends during the train ride back, Hermione drily pointed out, "Harry, it's only our second year."

But Luna, who had curled up on the floor between Harry's feet, had glanced up at him with a knowing smile and he knew she understood.

"So, what is everyone doing this summer?" Li asked.

"Pranking my brother," Terry decided, glancing up at where his trunk was stashed overhead. Harry had spent a pretty knut on pranks for his friend for both Christmas and his birthday, if only to make his summer that much more bearable. All of the pranks, Harry had assured him, were mundane-safe.

"I'm going on holiday in France," Hermione replied, smiling a bit. "I owl-ordered a tourist book about magical France and Mum and Dad said we can stop by a few places."

Everyone agreed that sounded pretty amazing.

"I'll probably spend the whole summer in the greenhouse," Neville admitted, pinking a bit. "Gran said she's got a few new plants in since Christmas."

"Sirius and I will be driving each other completely bonkers," Harry reported. "You're all invited to come and save... Well, to come join in on the fun, I suppose. Sirius has already expanded the guest rooms just in case." He rolled his eyes.

"You'll come visit me like you promised, though, won't you?" Luna asked hopefully.

"How about in two weeks? That should give me sufficient time to be considering decapitating Sirius," Harry replied cheerfully.

"I'll have Daddy pull the cot out of storage," Luna agreed.

"Are you going back to China, Li?" Hermione asked, leaning forward. She'd spent a portion of the past year asking the Chinese witch about her home country and was absolutely fascinated. She'd been a little jealous that both Harry and Terry had learned Mandarin, but Li had lent her a couple of books for over the summer so she could teach herself.

Li shook her head. "No, but my family is coming here for a couple weeks." She smiled a bit sheepishly. "They speak very poor English, so I do not know if inviting people over while they are here would be polite."

"I'd like to meet your family," Harry decided. "And I could use the practise."

"Yeah, and your cousin is really nice," Terry added.

Li giggled. "That is because she has a crush on you."

Terry grimaced. "What? Ew!"

They all shared a laugh over that, then settled in to talk about next year. Bets were placed about what sort of person they might have for Defence next year and Hermione, rolling her eyes, promised to keep hold of the money until they knew for sure. Eventually, they all settled in to play Exploding Snap or read a book and the rest of the trip passed in a blur.

When they arrived in London, Harry waved his goodbyes, then hurried over to where a big black dog was waiting for him, tongue lolling out to one side. "Hey, Padfoot. You ready to go?"

Padfoot gave a loud bark, then transformed into Sirius, who wrapped Harry in a hug before apparating them away. "Welcome home," Sirius said, stepping back from his godson.

Harry looked around the cottage Sirius had bought and smiled. Somehow, without him realising, the cottage had become his home.

And he wouldn't change it for the world.