CHAPTER 108: Requiem For A Dream (Part 1)

He was trapped, falling inside a never-ending swirl of flames. He didn't have arms, or at least he couldn't see them. Couldn't feel them. It was as if he had been ripped out of his body entirely, helpless, unable to move as the red and orange inferno consumed him. It went through him, almost penetrating, except how could it be when he didn't even have a solid form? But he could feel it, what started as an uncomfortable warmth around him had become more intense. More present. It was burning him up, like a fire inside his very soul.

There was no voice as he tried to scream out. Or if there was, it was drowned by the hell storm he was trapped in. It wasn't painful, not in the way he expected burning alive to be. It was… cleansing? Invasive? He couldn't think of the right word for it. He imagined it was akin to shoving a long thick skin up your nose until it hit the top of your skull. An unbearable yet almost harmless feeling. It was the helplessness that was truly disconcerting, the inability to do anything. To move. To scream. To even feel like you actually have a body and are still a living, breathing human being.

The flames started getting hotter, hotter until the red fully turned into orange. Until the orange began disappearing, slowly overtaken by a whiteness that was not bright, but almost ethereal. "Harry," a voice called out to him, and he almost felt as if someone shook his very being. He recognised the voice, but couldn't put a face to it. Instantly knew who that person was but at the same time, he didn't. "Harry!" He was shaken once again, the voice turning more urgent. And then he saw it. Saw her: a young woman - maybe nineteen - with long and wildly curly red hair, ice-blue eyes, and a mischievous smile that almost felt familiar. His entire being stilled, unable to process her appearance, before he felt something twirl around himself before yanking him backward.

Harry's eyes suddenly open, and he immediately sucks in a deep breath, feeling as if he'd just been pulled out of a lake only a second before he was about to drown. He looked around wildly, hints of scarlet and gold littered around him, and the only reason why he wasn't panicking was that it was all blurry. His hands immediately went to his body, touching his chest and torso and then his head, his heart nearly trembling with relief as he managed to feel every piece of himself. He almost let out a little laugh before a flash of something caught his eyes and his reflexes took over, catching the pillow right as it was about to crash against his face.

"Finally you're awake," the voice grumbled. "Come on, we've got to get going!"

There was a tall figure standing on the foot of his bed, the only recognizable feature through the blurriness being the patch of red hair. "What?" Harry groaned, instinctively reaching out to his nightstand, he had a bit of trouble before his fingers finally curled around his glasses. And as soon as he put them on, he knew something was wrong.

The sun was shining through the windows, lighting up the red curtains and golden sheets that were spread all over the dormitory. The floor was covered by a red rug with a golden lion in the centre of the room, nearly covered by the dirty shirts and discarded red and yellow ties littered all over the ground. Harry's blood drained from his face, he was confused and disgusted, and alarmed all at the same time. And when he finally looked at the tall figure in front of him, he saw Ronald fucking Weasley smirking down at him.

What the actual fu-

"Finally remembered, have you? You were sleeping a bit too comfortably for someone who's about to walk to his death."

Harry blinked. He would have rubbed his eyes if he didn't know how stupid he would have looked. For the first time in all the many encounters he'd had with Weasley, he was completely and utterly speechless, which somehow made the bastard smile even more. Harry couldn't bring himself to be angry. That paranoid voice inside him was yelling at him to grab his wand and blast himself out of whatever this was, but he couldn't find the strength to move his arms. He gaped and spluttered and felt utterly ridiculous as his voice started getting louder and almost squeakier.

"You- I- What- Where- WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?"

"Whoa," Weasley laughed. "Don't let Hermione hear you say that. Especially not today when-"

"When what, Ronald?" Harry's eyes snapped past Weasley and landed on Granger. Standing primly without a wrinkle in her uniform, that resentful glare wasn't unlike the one she had given him when she had confronted him in the Great Hall and branded him a monster all those months ago.

Weasley turned between him and Granger, a spark of a fight wanting to light itself behind his eyes before it was quickly extinguished as her glare darkened. "Umm… err… nothing, Hermione."

Granger rolled her eyes, strutting into the dormitory as if she owned it, nose high with a look of utter contempt, before she came to stand at the other end of Harry's bed. She looked him up and down, her face completely unreadable as she studied him. "You haven't showered yet," it was phrased like a question, but it really wasn't. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to remind you there will be no excuses for being late. He didn't specify against showing up in your pyjamas, but I'd say that comes implicitly."

"Oi, I'm dressed," Weasley complained.

She looked him over, her nose scrunching as she scanned through the yellow and red stains on his dirty shirt and the haphazard way he had tied his tie. "Yes, because that's what's going to make a difference."

Before Harry could even splutter a reply, she gave him one last hateful look before swiftly turning around and leaving the dormitory, muttering about morons who never listen to her or something along those lines. Weasley turned towards him and laughed awkwardly, and Harry finally felt himself back into action because his mouth was suddenly speaking, and he could barely keep up with what he was saying.

"What the fuck is going on, Weasley? Why am I in your dormitory? What does Dumbledore want with me now? What's Granger's fucking problem? What the fucking fuck is going on?"

Weasley's mouth clicked shut, his eyes widened, and he even seemed to take a step back from him. There was a weird look in his eyes that Harry couldn't explain and the next thing he knew Weasley had burst out laughing. "Weasley?" He said in between laughs, barely keeping himself upright. "Granger? Oh, mate, you've nailed that Malfoy impression. That was perfect!"

"I'm not fucking about," Harry cried out.

Weasley only laughed harder at that, dropping to his knees, wheezing, mumbling incoherence. Harry could have growled. After the fucking night he'd had, the last thing he was in the mood for was for some Gryffindors to fuck him over with their pranks. He snatched his wand from the nightstand and jumped out of his bed, desperate to get away before his anger truly boiled over. Weasley tried to stop him, but couldn't bring himself to say anything understandable before Harry slammed the door to the dormitory shut.

Gryffindor Tower was red and vibrant and loud, and Harry hated it immediately. Everywhere he looked he was met with the paraphernalia of lions or red and gold everything everywhere. The decoration was physically assaulting his eyes, he wouldn't have been surprised if he went blind because of it. Gryffindor Tower was also structured inversely to the Slytherin dungeons, something he learned about the hard way when he climbed up to the top only to find out that the common room was at the bottom of the staircase.

Once he finally reached the common room, the sound that had felt loud when upstairs was now blaring at his ears. Screams and laughs and wails and cards exploded mid-air while others took turns jinxing each other. It was a booming and vibrant hell, unlike anything he had experienced before. He couldn't begin to understand how people tolerated this, living with it every single day would have been torture for him. And it only got worse once people noticed him. He must have looked ridiculous, wearing a white tank top with long, fluffy pyjama pants that were covered with snitches and brooms and cauldrons and wands. His hair was a complete mess, pointed every which way and just a tad greasy, and he was sure his glasses were skewed - there was even a small crack that ran through the right lens.

The mass swarmed him with big smiles, pats on the back, and even a light stinging hex that hit his left buttock. Their voices all drowned by each other as they congratulated him and asked him questions about his summer and just straight up laughed at him. He pushed through them, mindlessly responding with non-committal answers and grunts as he focused on finding the exit to this godforsaken place. It was a mighty effort not to pull out his wand and start cursing back the bastard who hit him with that stinging hex, but after everything the Prophet had been printing about him, that didn't seem like the smart move. They all wolf-whistled and jeered as he exited through the portrait, and he thought he maybe even saw Granger looking at him in disapproval for a moment there as he escaped. But the moment he was free, he stopped dwelling on it. He'd been on active battlefields that had been less active than whatever that was, and he wasn't planning on going back.

The events of the previous night started coming back to him, all that fighting and apparating around and non-stop dread as more things kept popping out of nowhere. The fact that it all took place in just a few hours was insane to him, as it had felt like months while he had been in it. He remembered Voldemort invading his head and Harry pushing him out. Everyone was there, then Umbridge came out of the blue and swooped him back to Hogwarts, and then he fell asleep in the infirmary. Why the hell had they moved him from there? Why not to his own dormitory? And how the fuck was Weasley all jolly and go-lucky after that fucking hell of a night?

He needed answers. He needed Theo or Pansy or even fucking Malfoy, of all people. Anyone who wasn't wearing scarlet and gold was fine in his eyes. He just needed to figure out what the fuck was happening.

Gryffindor Tower was secluded from the rest of the castle, far from his stomping grounds, and it took Harry a while before he managed to find himself in the castle. People continued waving at him as he made his way down to the dungeons. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws alike smiled at him, cheering, even stopping him and trying to start conversations with him. They thanked him for his help with the OWLs, the younger students even asking about what he was going to do when he was out of Hogwarts and asking for help figuring out what subjects they should focus on. It made him want to spew. He had always known how wavering the Hogwarts population was, always switching up as soon as the Prophet changed their mind on something. Had the news spread so quickly? He would have thought Umbridge would have wanted to keep it all under wraps, especially because of the heavy anti-Voldemort posture the Ministry had adopted for the past year.

Whatever it was, Harry didn't care. He didn't think he could take one more fake smile aimed at him.

At least the Slytherins were their usual selves, glaring at him or just generally being wary. That weird behaviour from the students began to lessen the deeper he went into the castle, and when he finally came across the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room he sighed in relief. "Pendragon," he said, but as expected his words had no effect. It had been months since he'd entered the common room, but that didn't stop him from spouting every password he could remember - even trying to come up with his own. It wasn't until he said "Pociones," that the snake lifted itself from the ground and revealed a door, but before Harry could even take a step forward, the door was pushed open and four boys stepped out of it.

Graham Montague was suddenly grinning only a few feet in front of him, walking and talking and looking anything but the rotting corpse he was meant to be. Harry's entire body stiffened at the sight. Warrington followed behind him, laughing about something with Rowle and Pucey, and before they all knew it, Harry was on top of them. He tackled Montague, pulling out his wand and easily disarming the other three boys before he and Graham even hit the ground.

"You're dead!" Harry jammed the wand deep into Montague's neck. "You're dead. You're fucking dead!"

"What the fuck's your problem, Potter?"

Arms seized his own, dragging him away from Montague. Harry tried fighting back, but his wand was knocked out of his hand and he was thrown to the floor by the three larger boys. Montague rose to his feet, high and proud and with fire blazing behind his eyes. No one was pinning him down, his wand was only a few feet away, but he felt like that eleven-year-old boy again. He wouldn't be able to do anything. They'd kick his wand, chain him to the ground, and Montague would once again pull out his knife and brand him again. Or worse. Maybe he'd take his eye. Cut off his fingers. Montague's demented mind and murderous hatred held an infinite possibility of torture that Harry couldn't even-

"You're a freak, Potter," Montague scoffed, rolling his eyes, and Harry barely had time to blink in confusion before he walked past him. "You're lucky Snape wasn't here to take any points from you." The other three Slytherins glared at him but followed Montague without even kicking him for good measure.

"Oi!" He shouted, snatching his wand as he picked himself off the ground. Harry could beat them, easily, he knew that, but he still felt like he was trying his luck. "What's the fucking password?"

Montague didn't stop, he didn't even look back as he kept on walking ahead.

"Password?" Warrington spat, following along.

"Why the fuck would we give you the password?" Rowle asked. "You're a bloody Gryffindor."

"Wanker!" Pucey added for good measure.

The four boys continued ahead, acting as if Harry wasn't even there, as they resumed joking around and disappeared up the staircase. Harry felt his heart racing. Suddenly this castle that he had been sure he knew to the very portrait felt so foreign and dangerous. He could almost feel someone behind the walls, hear them laughing as they watched his every move. It was all too much, he couldn't even begin to process everything that felt wrong.

This had to be a trick. A trap. Something. Was this hell? Had he died last night at the infirmary, and now he was being forced to live this… whatever the fuck this was? Was he lost in his mindscape again? Had he finally broken his mind to the point of all of this? Maybe Junior kidnapped him and this was Voldemort playing with him. Or Dumbledore. Or Snape. Or Umbridge. Or anyone else in the fucking Wizarding World.

Harry suddenly stilled as the hall dropped to an eerie silence. There was no sound, not even the barest hint of the massive student body that should be all over the castle. And yet, he felt something crawling on the back of his shoulder. Slowly. Like a dozen miniature spiders with their legs softly inching their way toward his neck. He turned with a swift move, wand trained straight ahead, red sparks burning from its tip, aimed directly at the red-headed woman in front of him.

She smiled at him, not a cocky nor superior smile. She wasn't amused or surprised or scared or anything. She just sort of smiled at him with a weird cheerful upbeatness to her. He recognised her immediately, that wild hair, those blue eyes, those lips. "You!" Harry snarled, advancing on the woman. "You were in my dream. You- Where- What is this?"

His wand was inches away from her eye, still bursting with power, and nothing but murder in his eyes, but the woman simply tilted her head and smiled a little larger. "Well, aren't you a handsome young man," she cupped his cheek before he could even react, stroking it slowly before letting it go and walking past him. "Your hair wild like that suits you, you know?"

Harry tried not to blush, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to control it before he swirled back at her. "Who are you?"

"Come on, Harry," she said sweetly, and there was something in her voice that completely entranced him. It made him feel weak. Vulnerable. And he hated it. "You know who I am."

"If I did, I wouldn't be asking."

"Use that big brain of yours. Search deep inside, you know who I am."

Harry scoffed, but nothing he did affected her smile, her positive attitude that almost seemed to suffocate him. He lowered his wand, shoving it into his pants. He couldn't explain it, but he felt… safe. Or at least not threatened. He knew, innately, that whoever she was, she would never do anything to hurt him. Her smile almost brightened at that, and Harry had a weird sudden gut feeling - one that he very much disliked.

"Aurora," his mouth spoke for him, and suddenly, the torches all around him began faltering, dimming, and brightening erratically before they were all extinguished. Aurora's blue eyes lit up, and two small blue flames were overshadowed when a pair of orange, flaming wings appeared, beating majestically behind her. And then they were gone, the torches in the hall lighting up again as she smiled at him.

Aurora got closer. She grabbed his cheek again, and this time Harry leaned into her touch. He almost felt a desire to grab her waist and pull her towards him, but he stopped himself before he did. She smiled kindly at him, as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking and let him take the lead. He let out a shaky breath and breathed her in, instantly relaxed by the smell of a warm, comforting fire in the middle of winter.

"I don't like that you're handsome," she scrunched up her nose. "It makes this all the more difficult."

"Makes what?" Harry asked, but Aurora didn't answer. She leaned closely, giving him a tender kiss on his chin before pulling back and walking away from him. "What is this? Because last time I checked, you had a few more feathers up your arse."

Aurora laughed lightly, the sound almost musical. "I did, didn't I? I have to admit, I'm enjoying this little adventure. It's not often I get a chance to be - well, human. There's something so beautiful about it, I can't really explain it. Maybe in time, I'll be able to."

"Aurora," Harry warned. "What is this? Where am I? Why are you here? How are you… human?"

"You have a lot of questions-"

"Oh, you have no idea."

"And I'm sorry, but I can't give you the answers. Not to most of them, anyway. Not the ones that matter right now, it would beat the point of it all."

"What point? What fucking point could there possibly-"

"Harry," she said softly, but it was enough to make him quiet. "You trust me, I know you do. So trust me when I tell you that this, what I'm doing, it's because I want the best for you."

"The best for me?" Harry laughed bitterly. "What does that even mean? More to the point, why would you even care? Who are you really?"

"You already know who I-"

"No," Harry shook his head. "No, I don't. Because you show up randomly, right before I'm about to die, and then just appear and claim that you care about me? Why did you show up in the first place? Why then? Why not when Montague had been tied up or when Riddle's diary was possessing me or when Dolohov killed Susan or when Black snapped my wand?"

"You weren't ready then-"

"And who decides that?"

"You did, Harry," her words were like a shock wave across the hall, and yet, she didn't even raise her voice. "Do you know what we are? Phoenixes?"

"Ugly, prissy birds."

"We're manifestations of Fate." Aurora took a step forward, but Harry backed off. "We don't just randomly appear or bond with anyone. There's a reason why there's usually only one of us every century. It takes a really special someone - intelligent, courageous, tenacious, resourceful… resilient. Someone who can prove themselves to Fate against all odds, who is willing to give everything he values for what he believes in. Someone like you."

"Bullshit."

"I'm a phoenix, Harry. Your phoenix. Even if I wanted to, I could never lie to you." She took another step forward, and Harry didn't back off this time. Gently, she reached for his temples and immediately felt her presence in his very soul. "I was born from you. Yes, I am a gift from Fate, but everything that makes me me came from you. Your Magic, your Soul. All the beauty you see in me, it all came from you."

Harry laughed and shook his head, but Aurora didn't let go of her grip on him. He wanted to believe her, wanted nothing more than to believe he was as special as she was telling him he was. That everything he'd gone through all his life hadn't just been meaningless suffering. That maybe someday, he'd manage to be half the man she thought he was. "You're… you're wrong. That's not… that's not me. You got the wrong guy."

"Oh, Harry," she whispered, and there was a deep sorrow in her voice, a sorrow he felt so deep in his soul, it was staggering. "You don't think you deserve to be happy, do you?" Harry wanted to scoff or snort or pull away, but he couldn't muster anything as he felt her presence inside him, dancing and weaving through his memories. "Such a lonely little boy. Lonely then and lonelier now." He felt her grief, her overpowering need to make it right. And then she pulled away, and he felt as if a part of himself was leaving him. "This is why you're here. Why I had to bring you here."

"Bring me where?" Harry begged. "Aurora, please… just tell me where I am. Tell me why I'm here."

A silent tear trailed down her cheek as she gazed sadly at him. "This is going to be hard. Borderline cruel, at times. And you may even hate me for it. But I need you to go through this because I need you to understand. I need you to finally… truly… understand."

"Understand what?"

Aurora turned away from him, idly studying the corridor as she avoided his gaze. "We phoenixes… we're conduits of Fate. We can… play around with the universe, but only a bit. It's not something we often do, I don't actually think another phoenix has done this for at least the past twelve centuries. But I couldn't… I needed to do something."

Her endless stalling was starting to get on his nerves. "Do what?"

She finally turned back to him and gave him a bittersweet smile. "Do you remember all those nights you spent dreaming, praying for things to be different? You kept doing it, and even after you stopped believing things would change, you never stopped asking. Even if it was just for a sign. Even when you thought no one was listening. Well… I did."

There was a silver light that flew down the stairs and settled just above Aurora's shoulder as it turned into a phoenix. "Harry," Dumbledore's voice spoke. "We'd all appreciate your presence in my office. I'd rather not have Fawkes bring you here by force."

The Patronus dissolved and Aurora spoke again. "You won't want to keep them waiting." There was a hint of that mischievousness he'd seen before, but it was still overpowered by the clear apprehension behind her eyes. "Trust me when I say that."

And then she was gone, disappeared without a sound, in a way that almost made Harry doubt if she had ever been there, to begin with. But as he put his hand to his heart and searched inside, he could still feel her presence there with him. Wherever he was… whatever she wanted from him… Harry wasn't sure he was going to like it. But at least now he knew this wasn't some sort of prison or mental breakdown. And though he didn't want to, he couldn't bring to mistrust Aurora. Even if her words hovered above him like a dark, looming cloud.

He was almost tempted to take Dumbledore's offer as he climbed all the way up the castle. Gryffindor Tower was surprisingly close to the Headmaster's office - which was either incredible foresight from the Founders to put the house with the most troublemakers so near to the Headmaster's Tower or sheer dumb luck. Regardless, it was still annoying having to make his way back up again. It wasn't as exhausting as he had thought, though. After everything that had happened last night, Harry had expected his legs to be sore or even for his body to shut down for a few days. But the worst part of the trail was the time it took to get to the top, rather than any physical exertion on his part.

Another sign that there was something clearly wrong with the situation. Not that he needed any more of those.

The gargoyle let him pass without even waiting for a password, which was fortunate since he wasn't given one. His mind was still trying to come up with an explanation for all of this. It was clear Aurora was behind this, and it was even clearer that the world wasn't exactly right. Montague was alive, and he was a fucking Gryffindor of all things. But even after all of that, every theory he came up with paled in comparison to what he was met to when he opened the door to the Headmaster's office. There was Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk waiting with a patient smile, wearing, for some reason, neon pink and yellow robes with an overtly large hat. Weasley was there, sitting with the twins to his right and Mr and Mrs Weasley glaring down at their three sons. But it was the other two people in the room who made his heart jump to his throat.

Harry immediately forgot how to breathe. His entire body shook, and he took an involuntary step back. They looked older, different - oh so very different from how he had seen them in their pictures. But they were definitely them. Wrinklier. Grayer. Angrier. James and Lily Potter, alive and well and glaring impatiently at him.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore brightened at his presence. "Thank you for coming, I was beginning to worry I'd have to call Fawkes."

But Harry barely listened to him, his eyes had never left his parents. He was drinking them in. Every line in their faces, every different colour in their hair. His parents. There. In front of him. He didn't care that they looked angry. He didn't care that everyone was staring at him. Even Aurora's words left his mind as he realised that they were there. As real as Graham Montague felt under his grip. As real as his fluffy, ridiculous pyjama pants felt against his skin. He could see them. Hear them. Almost smell them. He could touch them. He needed to touch them.

Harry ran, faster than he'd ever run. And when he crashed against them, he almost knocked the three of them down to the ground with his sheer force. He gripped them tightly, promising to never let go of them. No matter what happened or who tried to tear him apart from them, he would never let them go. Someone cleared his throat behind him, but Harry ignored them, burying his face in between both his parents as he took in and basked in their presence. Anything he could have dreamed of, pictured, imagined, it was nothing compared to the real thing. And now that he had it, he couldn't imagine living without it.

"Harry," a voice so similar to his called out to him, somehow troublesome and worried at the same time. "Don't think a big hug and some compliments are going to save you from what you did yesterday."

Harry didn't know why, but he laughed. He laughed so hard, it was almost maniacal. Dolohov would have been proud.

"Harry," that was his mother's voice. And after all the different ways that he'd imagined it, he never expected it to sound so beautiful. It didn't matter that it was slightly cold or that she wasn't hugging back as tightly as he was, he still loved it. "Harry, son, let go."

Despite his earlier promises to himself, he released them both. He smiled at them, but when neither of them fully smiled back, he wavered slightly. They were his parents. They loved him. He knew they loved him. They had to love him. But they didn't really seem happy to see him, and that was more painful than any curse he'd been hit with the previous night. His father tried to give him a half smile, a bit of reassurance, but he could see it was half-hearted at best. Harry turned around and found all the others looking at him, but they all faded to the background once he saw the dark look Mrs Weasley was giving him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat one more time. "Please, take a seat, Harry. I'm sure the adults here are eager to go back to their work."

Suddenly all those feelings of joy evaporated as he was left feeling numb. "Right," he nodded, shaking his head and sitting beside Weasley. The sooner they got finished with this, the sooner he could figure out what the hell was wrong with his parents. "What do you want? What's this about?"

"Harry James Potter," his mother snapped at him. "You don't speak to others that way. Especially not Headmaster Dumbledore."

"It's quite alright, Lily," Dumbledore appeased her, but there was something in the way Dumbledore was looking at him that felt off. "I'm sure your son meant no disrespect."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Harry shrugged, and he felt the glares from both women. "What can I do for you, Headmaster?"

"Come, Harry, you're smart enough to know that feigning ignorance will not work this time."

"Feigning… what?"

"Harry Potter," his mother warned.

"This is not the time to act coy, son," his father told him. "Just answer Professor Dumbledore's questions."

"What questions? He hasn't even asked anything."

His mother and Mrs Weasley were fuming, his father was getting there. Even Mr Weasley did not seem amused. The other Weasleys though, were trying not to laugh, and Harry hated that they seemed to be the only ones on his side.

Dumbledore sighed. "You're, of course, correct Mister Potter, so let's attempt to start anew. Your friends weren't as forthcoming as we had hoped," Friends. Right. Of fucking course. Wherever he was, whatever Aurora did to him, he was now friends with the Weasleys of all people. Granger too, most likely, given her gall at coming to his dormitory and berating him for not showering. "So it seems it's up to you to answer our questions."

"Of course it is, he's their little ringleader," Mrs Weasley scoffed, and Harry tried to not feel the hurt that spread through him at those words.

"I'm no one's ringleader," Harry said curtly. "And I really have no idea what the fuck is going on here-"

"Harry Potter!" His father finally snapped.

"So how about someone helps me out and tells me what the fuck is happening here?"

"What happened, Mister Potter, is that you and Messrs Weasley here escaped from Hogwarts last night and tried to break into the Department of Mysteries. Of course, you were unsuccessful in the attempt, but it did highlight a breach of our own security here at the castle. Would you mind telling us how you managed to escape from Hogwarts grounds?"

"The front door? I don't know," Harry shrugged.

"Don't be cheeky and answer the question," his mother said firmly.

"I don't know! I genuinely don't fucki-"

"If you swear one more time, Harry, I will take your broom myself. Am I clear?" His father thundered. "I raised you to be a proper young man, not some insolent tosser incapable of going two seconds without swearing like a sailor."

Except you didn't! You were too fucking dea-

Harry let out a shaky breath before turning towards Dumbledore. "Fine," he spat. "I'm… I'm sorry for my language and lack of respect. It will not happen again. But I swear, I don't know a… thing about what you're speaking about."

"Unless you somehow obliviated yourself last night, I don't see how that's possible."

"Molly, please don't speak to my students like that," Dumbledore said calmly before turning back to Harry. "You were found by Ministry officials. I had to escort you back to your dormitory well after midnight myself. Please, do not insult my intelligence trying to pretend it didn't happen."

"I'm not saying it didn't happen, I'm saying I don't know squat about it!"

The office went silent, and even the Weasleys were eying him warily. Harry didn't care what they expected of him or how he was supposed to act. He was being blamed for something he didn't do, something he didn't even know about. If he knew the answers, he would give them this second, but how the fuck was he supposed to know the answers to their questions? He wanted someone to support him, maybe someone to whom he could tell the truth, but looking around he found no allies in the crowd. And even if he did, he knew that would only end in one way. With him locked up in some looney bin somewhere.

"I swear, I don't know anything about last night. I mean, breaking into the Ministry? What fudging moron would be stupid enough to try that? I'm telling the truth here."

"Just as you were telling the truth when you claimed you didn't know how Mister Malfoy found himself hanging from his underwear from the top of the Astronomy Tower a few weeks ago?" Dumbledore asked serenely. "Or how you had nothing to do with breaking into Hagrid's Hippogriff pen and letting them all escape at the beginning of term? Or with charming Professor Snape's exams to scream obscenities at him while he was marking them."

"I didn't do any of those fucking things!"

"Harry James Potter!"

"FUDGING! SORRY!"

All the adults were now glaring down at him, and Harry scowled, staring at his lap as he tried to avoid them. Eventually, he heard Dumbledore sigh. "I'm very disappointed with the four of you, especially you, Mister Potter. Your behaviour today was not only disrespectful, but uncalled-for. Each of you will be losing one hundred points and have two hours of detention every night until the Hogwarts Express takes you home. Messrs Fred and George, since this was your last year here at Hogwarts, there is little I can do to punish you. You are both adults now and will be heading into the real world soon. I hope, for your sake, you avoid causing any further trouble of this magnitude because I won't be there to protect you if you do. As for you two," he spoke to Harry and Weasley. "You'll both lose your positions in Gryffindor's Quidditch Team for next year - and, yes, Mister Potter, that means you'll have to hand back your captain's badge. Unless the two of you deliver a genuine apology for your behaviour and prove to me that you are mature young men who are close to finishing their schooling, I will not be changing my mind on this."

Weasley looked devastated, and even the twins looked contrite. Harry couldn't bring himself to care about some stupid Captain's badge for a Quidditch team he didn't even like. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, something that wasn't missed by either of his parents. Eventually, after a few more speeches of disappointment and other bullshit about responsibility, Dumbledore dismissed everyone. It was hard to ignore Mrs Weasley's glare, at least until his father grabbed his shoulder and looked him square in the eye as he said, "Your mother and I are incredibly disappointed with your behaviour today. We will not be tolerating any of it at home." His words were another knife in his heart, and they left through the floo after a barely courteous goodbye to him. Mr and Mrs Weasley followed soon after them, and when the other three Weasleys stood from their chairs and began to head outside, Harry was too in shock to even move.

"Come on, Harry," Weasley nudged at him.

"Actually, Mister Potter, I was hoping to have a word with you before you left," Dumbledore said calmly.

Harry shook his head, trying to snap himself out of whatever trance he was in. "Go," he said, not really knowing why.

"I'll wait for you downstairs," Weasley moped, and then he was gone.

Dumbledore waved his hand, and two cups of tea appeared in front of them. He motioned for Harry to grab the one in front of him as he took a sip of his own.

"I have to say, Mister Potter, your behaviour today is highly unusual for you. Are you feeling alright? I know the OWL year can be particularly draining for some students."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Am I feeling alright? Yeah. Peachy. Everything's just dandy."

Dumbledore didn't look satisfied with his sardonic answer, but even as Dumbledore studied him, Harry kept quiet.

"You're a very bright young man. Do you know that? Besides your trouble-making, it's the one quality all your teachers agree you possess. And despite all your pranks, there is no student more respected by the rest of the school than you. You have a great future ahead of you… or at least you could have it, if only you stopped getting in your own way."

"With all due respect, sir, you know anything about me."

"Perhaps you're right," Dumbledore conceded. "I'm not presumptuous enough to claim I understand you by simply having watched you grow from afar. But what I do know is that when we're growing up, we're all faced with a choice. We can either resist it and cling to what feels safe as we watch everyone around us change. Or we can let go, accept it and truly enjoy this wonderful journey that is growing up and living our life."

Taking another sip of his cup, Dumbledore set it aside and vanished it with a wave of his hand.

"There are few things more tragic than watching someone so filled with potential throw it all away because they couldn't see it themselves."

That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!

By the time I'm posting this, I'm TWELVE chapters ahead, and I'm in the middle of writing the second chapter of Book 2 of the Pray For The Wicked Saga! If you are interested in learning how to get early access to them, join my discord server using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT

As always, thank you for reading, favouriting, and commenting! I appreciate all of you! :)