A/N: Real life has gotten pretty busy for me lately, so unfortunately I won't be able to commit to one new chapter per week moving forward. I will commit to one chapter every other week instead, and if things slow down in the future I may be able to go back to the original schedule. I have zero intentions of abandoning the fic and I certainly don't want to burn myself out and go on hiatus, so this is the best solution for me right now. Sorry for the inconvenience!

The scene was eerily reminiscent to the attack against Ron and Daphne the previous year. Harry and Cedric, both still muddied and fatigued from their Quidditch match, sat anxiously in the Headmaster's Office awaiting word on Damian's condition. All sense of enmity between them on the pitch was lost: they sat in silence, united in their worry for the first-year boy.

The door opened, and in strode four people: Dumbledore, Snape, Madam Pomfrey, and surprisingly Damian himself, looking slightly dazed. Harry and Cedric stood to check on him at once, but Dumbledore beckoned for all three boys to sit, summoning a third armchair for Damian. Snape stood passively in the corner, as Madam Pomfrey wrung her hands, looking rather cross with Dumbledore.

"The boy really must rest, Albus!" she insisted. "He's been through quite an ordeal tonight—"

"He can rest once we have determined exactly what happened, Poppy," Dumbledore said calmly but firmly. "Time is of the essence. Mr. Dursley, would you kindly explain to us what you remember from this afternoon?"

Damian squirmed slightly in his seat, clearly uncomfortable under the gaze of all the adults. "Went to the Quidditch game," he muttered, still fidgeting. "Got mad when Hufflepuff lost and left early. Thought I'd walk down to Hagrid's cabin and see if he needed help with the animals—"

"Do you visit Hagrid's cabin often?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"I guess," Damian shrugged. "He lets me collect eggs and clean the coops sometimes. Says I'm not old enough to meet some of the more dangerous creatures yet."

"Quite right he is," Dumbledore chuckled, and Harry also marveled at the surprising display of good judgment from the normally reckless half-giant. "Go on."

"Not much more to tell," said Damian. "Walked down the path along the forest by myself, and that's all I can remember. Woke up in the Hospital Wing just a couple minutes ago."

"You can't remember being approached by anybody?" Dumbledore pressed. "You didn't notice anything odd on your way to Hagrid's?"

"I don't think so," Damian frowned. "Maybe some rustling in the forest, but it's always making all kinds of odd noises, innit?"

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, then drew his wand. "Expecto patronum," he muttered, and a silvery phoenix Patronus emerged over their heads. "Send a message to Auror Potter," Dumbledore instructed the bird. "Tell him to secure the treeline. Start with the area around the path to Hagrid's hut." The phoenix took flight, flying through the window and out of sight.

"Your father is leading a team of Aurors to secure the grounds," Dumbledore explained to Harry. "The school is under temporary lockdown until we are certain the castle is safe."

"I didn't know the Patronus Charm could be used to send messages," Cedric muttered with surprise. This was also news to Harry; it seemed a fair amount easier (and faster) than owl post. He would have to keep that in mind for the future.

"Now your turn, Mr. Diggory," said Dumbledore. "Can you enlighten us as to your perspective in today's events?"

"Well, I left the locker room after all my teammates had gone," Cedric explained. "I saw Damian wandering around by himself, in the general direction of the school. I ran to catch up with him, but he refused to stop and listen, or even look at me. Then Harry showed up, and they started fighting. I realized Damian wasn't in his right mind, so I Stunned him."

"And a very good decision that was," Dumbledore appraised him. "Twenty points to Hufflepuff for your timely reaction."

Cedric nodded glumly to himself; he was clearly too humble to show pleasure at the point addition, or perhaps the situation was simply too grim to care.

"What about you, Mr. Potter?" asked Dumbledore, and all eyes turned to Harry. "What can you add?"

"Not much that Cedric didn't already say," said Harry. "I came up behind them and called their names. They both turned, and I noticed that something was wrong. It looked like Damian was placed under an Imperius—"

"How could you possibly know that?" snapped Snape from the corner. "What experience could a third-year have with the Imperius Curse?"

"I'm curious about that myself," Dumbledore frowned. "How did you recognize the symptoms so quickly?"

Whoops, Harry thought. He wasn't meant to know what the Imperius Curse looked like; he'd never been taught about the Unforgivables in this timeline, nor could he exactly explain away his encounter with Krum in the maze using his fake Seer cover story. "Erm...my dad described the symptoms to me once," Harry lied, hoping this was plausible enough. "His eyes were totally gray and blank, and he looked like he wasn't thinking for himself. I dunno, just the impression I got."

Snape clearly looked like he didn't buy this explanation, but Dumbledore simply nodded. "I imagine that impression grew stronger once you saw what young Damian was capable of in a duel."

"Yes," Harry nodded. "It reminded me immediately of my duel with Pettigrew on Halloween. He fought exactly the same way."

Damian looked deeply disturbed by this information. Harry wondered what the boy must be thinking, to learn that his body had been briefly hijacked by a deranged murderer?

Dumbledore turned back to Cedric. "Did Damian indicate to you what he was after?" he asked. "Was he looking for anything or anyone in particular?"

"That's what I was trying to figure out," said Cedric. "He just kept repeating that he 'had to do something'. I dunno what it was."

"And we may never know," Dumbledore muttered. "Very well, then. Poppy, you may reclaim your young ward. Severus, please escort Mr. Diggory back to his common room. I will accompany Mr. Potter back to his."

Everyone stood; Madam Pomfrey escorted a shaky Damian down the stairs, followed by Snape and Cedric, then Dumbledore and Harry. Each pair went in separate directions, and Harry soon found himself alone with the Headmaster. It was a scenario he often feared finding himself in, and as expected, Dumbledore seemed to have more on his mind than escorting Harry to safety.

"How have your meetings with Saul Croaker been progressing?" Dumbledore asked mildly as they strolled towards Ravenclaw Tower.

"Erm...just fine," Harry said. "He's given me some useful exercises to calm my mind and control my visions."

"Splendid news," said Dumbledore. "I admit I was surprised to hear so little of you this term, after such a turbulent first two years here. I take it you haven't had as many visions as before?"

"No, sir," Harry said. "I think the exercises have helped with that a little." In truth, his lack of 'visions' was due to a total lack of knowledge about what was to come. Peter's motives remained an absolute mystery to Harry, and he couldn't make use of his foreknowledge of past events when everything was happening radically different now.

"Glad to hear it," Dumbledore said, though his tone suggested otherwise. Harry once again suspected that Dumbledore was secretly hoping to use Harry's visions to gain the upper hand in the Pettigrew situation. "And I remind you once again that my door is always open if you do have any unwanted glimpses of the future."

"I understand, sir," Harry nodded. "My father and Mr. Croaker have said the same."

This may have not been the correct thing to say; Dumbledore remained silent for a spell after this. Was he perhaps irked that Harry would prefer going to either of them before coming to him for help?

They eventually reached the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. The bronze eagle statue said, "What is man's greatest treasure?"

"Wit beyond measure," Dumbledore intoned clearly, and the door clicked open to allow Harry entry.

"Good night, Professor Dumbledore," said Harry, hustling through the door. But his hasty escape was not to be.

"Harry?" Dumbledore called before he could disappear over the threshold. "I take it that you, like Mr. Longbottom, are aware that Voldemort remains at-large in this world, seeking to regain power?"

"I do," Harry nodded solemnly.

"Do not forget it," Dumbledore said gravely. "And always remember that a unified front will be required to stop the threat of such evil from plaguing our world once more."

Harry's blood chilled slightly at that ominous message. Did Dumbledore suspect more than he let on? Did he know Harry was hiding information from him, and was this his cryptic way of expressing disapproval? "I understand, sir," said Harry. "I'll do whatever it takes to oppose his return."

"I am glad to hear it," Dumbledore nodded. "Good night, Harry." And he gratefully turned to leave, as Harry scrambled up to the common room before the Headmaster decided to try any more tricks to pry information out of him.

The Ravenclaw students immediately mobbed Harry when he entered, but not out of excitement. Despite his heroic efforts to win the match just over an hour ago, there was no jubilation in their expressions, only concern – word had clearly spread about the incident on the grounds. "What's happening, Harry?" Roger Davies asked. "Why are we being kept up here?"

"My cousin Damian was put under an Imperius Curse," Harry explained. "He attacked me and Cedric Diggory. Dumbledore thinks it was Peter Pettigrew."

The room erupted in a wave of gasps and murmurs of fear. "Are we safe here?" "How does he keep getting into the school?" "Why can't they catch him?"

"Blimey, Potter, how d'you always wind up in the middle of these situations?" chuckled Terry Boot. Several other Ravenclaws seemed to agree with this sentiment, actually looking to Harry for an explanation.

"Bad luck, I guess," Harry shrugged. "That or Pettigrew has it in for me. Second time he's attacked me this year, isn't it?"

Harry soon realized that this was probably not a wise thing to point out. He noticed students beginning to shy away from him, perhaps afraid of associating with him. It was like the Chamber of Secrets all over again: the rumor that the Heir of Slytherin was targeting Harry and his friends specifically had made him a virtual leper. And to their credit, that rumor turned out to be entirely true, and it might indeed be the case again with Pettigrew.

Dahlia clearly was receiving similar treatment in Gryffindor, as Harry saw her House mates giving her a wide berth at subsequent meals. Everyone, that is, except for Ginny and Astoria, who clearly had no qualms about associating with her. Harry had initially been surprised by Astoria's addition to the "Terrible Twins" group, expanding them to what was now dubbed the "Terrible Triplets" – she was a grade level below them, after all. But the younger Greengrass daughter was clearly nothing like her sister Daphne, proving just as reckless and unconcerned with appearances as Harry's own sister.

Damian, on the other hand, was rarely seen in the days to come after the incident. At first Harry assumed he had been transferred to St. Mungo's for further evaluation, but he spotted his cousin in fleeting moments, darting from class to class alone, occasionally coming into the Great Hall for meals. He had already been somewhat unpopular in his own House, and the stigma of being cursed by Pettigrew likely aided in pushing him further into outside status.

Harry approached Cedric about this one evening after dinner. "He's not been talking to me much," Cedric sighed, clearly frustrated himself with whatever Damian was going through. "Sticks to his dorm between classes, mainly. I think it really rattled him."

"I can imagine," Harry sighed. "He seemed like he was doing better lately, too."

"I know," Cedric lamented. "It finally seemed like he'd found a purpose to stay at Hogwarts...now I worry that he'll want to leave again."

Harry couldn't blame his cousin. Hell, it might even be wise for him to return to the Muggle world at this stage...being in Harry's orbit was certain to get him into more trouble in the years to come. But what a shame it would be to lose his magical birthright! Harry knew what a safe haven Hogwarts could be, a home away from the mundane regular world – a place for outsiders like Damian to feel like they belong. He had to try to salvage the boy's future...but how?

Harry received a summons one evening to join his father in the Defense classroom after dinner. He arrived to find that he was not alone, Dahlia was also there, accompanied as usual by Ginny and Astoria, as was Damian, accompanied by Cedric. None of them seemed to know why they were there, and judging by the look on James' face when he emerged from his office, he hadn't expected so many of them either.

"Oh," said James, surprised. "I meant to only invite my children and nephew…"

"We didn't want Dahlia to go alone," said Ginny steadfastly. "It seemed safer to travel in a group."

"I thought the same," Cedric nodded. But based on the strained expression on Cedric's face and the look of indifference on Damian's, Harry figured that Cedric had had to coerce Damian out of hiding to attend whatever this meeting was about.

"Very well," James said. "Considering what happened last weekend, I thought it wise to offer some extra dueling training to my family. Just in case...well, just in case." The unspoken implication was clear: in case Pettigrew comes after one of you again.

"I don't want to learn how to fight," said Dahlia. "I'm no good at it, and I'll only get myself more hurt if I try."

"I prefer Muggle fighting myself," Damian muttered stubbornly. "If that tosser comes after me again, I'll just jam my wand into his eye."

"Fine," James sighed. "You don't have to if you don't want to. Harry, how about you?"

"Yes," Harry agreed at once. "I need the practice."

"I'd like to watch if you don't mind, Professor," piped up Cedric. "I wouldn't mind some extra pointers in case I find myself in trouble."

Smart move, Cedric, Harry thought. If he was indeed selected as a Triwizard Champion again next year, anything he could learn to keep himself alive would be beneficial.

"Very well," said James. "I'd like the rest of you to stay as well. Even if you don't wish to participate, you might pick up something that could save your life."

Harry squared off across the room from James as the others backed up to the wall to observe their duel. Harry felt a thrill of excitement: he'd long heard whispers of his father's prowess as an Auror, and had yet to actually see him in action. Now he would finally get a taste for what James Potter was capable of. He lowered himself into a dueling stance and prepared for a fight.

"Just focus on defense for now," James instructed as he raised protective enchantment barriers in front of the onlookers. "You aren't likely to get a shot in against me anyway."

That's what you think, Harry grinned. But seconds later, he found himself desperately Shielding and dancing around in a mad scramble to avoid James' flurry of spells. His father was lightning-fast, casting multiple spells per second and showing little to no signs of fatigue. Harry couldn't even dream of firing any return hexes – his father wasn't giving him a second to breathe.

James relented in his attack a few seconds later, giving Harry a chance to stop and catch his breath. "Bloody hell, Harry, how did you survive all that?" Cedric said in bewilderment. "I've never seen so many spells so close together!"

"He's got a knack for it, that's for sure," James agreed, grinning at his son. "Remus and Filius taught you well. But he'll have to do better than that to keep it up!" And he launched into another series of spells, forcing Harry on the back foot once again.

Harry continued his delicate dance of Shielding and dodging spells, but knew he couldn't keep it up for long. He'd have to do something drastic to alter the course of this fight. He waited until James left him with a small window of opportunity, then jabbed his wand at two desks in the corner of the room. They sprang to life, rushing at James from the side.

But James, clearly undeterred, merely twirled his wand to launch the desks into the air. He transfigured them into paper cranes, which fluttered over his head; then he swiped towards Harry, and they dive-bombed at him. Harry raised a wall of flame to block the cranes, expecting them to be incinerated; however, they passed straight through, having been turned to stone at the last second. Harry dropped his wand in his haste to dive out of the way of the heavy projectiles, and James' Freezing Charm caught him in the leg, ending the duel.

"Good try, Harry," said James, canceling the spell and undoing the mild damage that their transfiguration had done to the room. "Does anyone see what he did wrong there?"

But the five other students were simply staring, slack-jawed, at the two of them. "I would have been killed ten times over in that fight," Dahlia scoffed. "How are we meant to know what went wrong?"

"Harry tried to trick me with transfiguration," James explained, summoning the stone cranes back towards him and turning them back into their original desk form. "But transfiguration is my specialty. You never want to use a branch of magic against someone who has mastered it, because they can just as easily use it against you."

Harry groaned at this reminder; he'd forgotten that his father was so adept at transfiguration. McGonagall had sung his praises for years, after all.

"Why don't you use it more often in battle, if you're so good at it?" Cedric asked.

"In a life or death situation, I would," said James. "But Harry shouldn't be learning how to fight me...he should be learning general survival tips. Most people, Pettigrew included, favor curses and hexes in a fight, so that's what he should be training against."

"What was Voldemort's preferred style?" Harry asked without thinking. "You've fought him, haven't you?"

The room went deathly silent at this reminder. Dahlia, Ginny and Astoria gave small gasps of shock; Cedric paled; and Damian looked from person to person, confused. "What's a Voldymort?" he asked aloud.

"A man we should all be grateful is dead," James said darkly. "I did encounter him on the battlefield, three times, but only once face to face. He favored very Dark, arcane systems of magic that have been lost over the centuries because they were considered too dangerous to learn. There was no easy way to combat it. The only people who ever survived his wrath, like myself, only lived due to his attention being drawn elsewhere."

Harry hadn't known that. He assumed that James had dueled Voldemort and walked away unscathed due to skill, but by the sounds of it, luck played a significant role in his survival. Perhaps Dumbledore truly was the only man alive who could hope to fight Tom Riddle, and he was certainly past his prime…

He continued dueling with his father for the next hour or so, each bout ending in similar fashion. James was simply too quick, too skilled for Harry to get an edge against him. Harry grew increasingly frustrated by the end of it, eventually dropping his shields to fire a desperate flurry of hexes at his father, which only succeeded in getting him Stunned while his father easily side-stepped the incoming spells.

"I don't want to see any moping," James chastised Harry as his son got up and kicked a chair over in frustration. "You're learning how to survive, not to win. If you can last more than thirty seconds against a trained Auror, you should be more than capable of surviving an encounter with Pettigrew until a teacher arrives to help."

I don't want to learn how to fight expecting backup, Harry thought irritably. I want to win. I want to be able to defeat anybody in my path. But he knew he shouldn't expect so much of himself so soon...even if he took his own time-travel into account, he was still a teenager going up against one of the best Aurors in the country. He had a ways to go before he could rise to that level of prowess. It wasn't as though he could expect to defeat Voldemort in a head-to-head duel, anyway! Saul Croaker was right: the goal was to cripple the Dark Lord before he could regain power, not to fight him at full strength.

Still, Harry relished the private lessons with his father and requested that they meet regularly to continue training. He dove into the library in the coming days, determined to look into ways to gain an upper hand in combat against more skilled enemies. He had long been meaning to research illusory magic, which Kneazle core wands supposedly excelled at. Perhaps if he took a shine to the branch of magic, he might be able to catch his father (and Pettigrew) off-guard the next time they met.

But while he did find some interesting spell concepts in his readings, he found little opportunity to practice any of them. The section of the castle containing Room of Requirement remained sealed off to students, and Harry didn't want to risk destroying any empty classrooms with such temperamental magic he'd never tried before. He would have to be patient and do as his elders requested by keeping his head down.

It was easy enough to immerse himself in classwork, as he didn't have to worry much about his social status in the weeks to come. Students continued to avoid Harry, not wanting to be seen with him for fear of retribution from Pettigrew or anyone else. Homework was ramping up again as March turned to April and professors began preparing students for end-of-year exams. Harry spent nearly all of his free time in the library or the common room, working tirelessly on assignments and occasionally taking out a book on illusory combat magic when he found the time.

It was on such a Saturday afternoon that Harry found himself in the library with Luna Lovegood, one of the few students who had no qualms about spending time with him. "Really quite rude of them, don't you think?" she remarked serenely, as a group of fourth-year girls rounded the corner towards them and quickly backed away once they saw Harry seated nearby. "Just because you're infested with wrackspurts doesn't mean they're contagious."

"I don't think that's why," Harry chuckled, flicking absentmindedly through his copy of Unfogging the Future. "They think Peter Pettigrew is targeting people close to me."

"Ah, that makes much more sense," said Luna. "I was attacked for being your friend, though being Petrified was just like taking a long nap. I don't know what all the fuss was about."

"You're right, it's silly," said Harry. He declined to tell her about the gruesome fate she would have met if she'd stared the basilisk directly in the eyes instead of through her goggles, not wishing to scare her away like everyone else.

"Ooh, you're reading about nargles again?" Luna gasped excitedly, pointing at Harry's Divination textbook.

"No, Luna, those are gnomes," Harry sighed, indicating the picture she was referring to.

"I know a nargle when I see one," Luna insisted. "Mother was very good at picking them out of the lot."

"Luna, there's no such thing as a nargle," Harry groaned. "Look." And he pointed to the caption underneath the photo. It read, Some species of gnomes are commonly cited by proclaimed Seers to have divining properties that can be transferred via saliva or blood. This has led them to be dubbed 'gnome oracles' in some Seer circles (gnoracles for short).

Harry frowned and read the passage again. Gnoracles. Nargles. The words suddenly sounded eerily familiar in his brain. "Luna, when did you first learn about nargles?" he asked.

"Mother told me about them when I was five," said Luna.

"Huh," Harry said thoughtfully. It would be rather like a five-year-old to mix up a tricky word like 'gnoracle' and bastardize it into 'nargle'. "Was your mum a Seer, by chance?"

"Oh, I think not," said Luna adamantly. "She often made odd predictions about things, but Daddy said they weren't all to be believed. Like one time, she said tomorrow's weather would be gloomy and full of storms, but the next day was sunny and bright. Of course, that was the day of her accident…" Luna trailed off, clearly stuck in an unpleasant memory of the day her mother died. Harry knew Luna had lost her mum just shortly before starting at Hogwarts.

But what Luna described sounded an awful lot like Professor Trelawney. She too made odd, nonsensical predictions that actually tended to come true more often than not. Harry had never met Luna's father before, though they'd corresponded briefly when he gave an interview to the Quibbler in his original fifth year. He struck Harry as the odd type, not one to easily separate fact from fiction...could he have missed the signs in his own wife?

But Harry wasn't about to dig into Luna's traumatic childhood, nor did he have the time to ponder it for long. In addition to classwork, Roger Davies was ramping up Quidditch practices again, with the final match of the season against Slytherin coming up in early May. "We need to hope Hufflepuff loses to Gryffindor in a couple weeks," he told the team during one strategy meeting. "If they do, and we beat Slytherin, we have a chance at winning the Cup. The tiebreaker is most Snitches caught, so Harry, if you manage to catch two of three Snitches, we should have it."

"I can beat Malfoy, no problem," Harry said confidently. Malfoy was no Cedric Diggory, and while Slytherin had a stronger squad overall, he had no qualms about winning that one-on-one matchup.

To his chagrin, however, Roger insisted on continuing the strategy of involving both Beaters in the Quaffle attack, leaving Harry exposed to Bludger attacks. He knew the Slytherin Beaters were among the best at Hogwarts, and the only way he could foresee losing to Malfoy was if he received no cover from his own batsmen.

But his team seemed just as averse to Harry as his other classmates, avoiding him both on the pitch and in the locker room. He could hear Cho's snide whispering and see her throw sneering looks in his direction on occasion. He remembered Hermione's theory about her and the intimate hug she'd given him after the previous match, and lamented what could have been if the attack hadn't interrupted the Ravenclaw celebrations. Could he have pursued things further, asked her out? That seemed like an impossibility now.

Harry's thoughts had become consumed by Cho recently, as the possibility of a fresh start with the girl tantalized him. When she wasn't talking about him behind his back, she appeared light and carefree, laughing with her friends and enjoying the company of many friends. The specter of Cedric's death no longer hung over her, and she was a bright and radiant presence in the school, one Harry desperately wanted to be a part of.

Harry never thought he could land such a popular partner, not when he'd been marked for death in his previous life. But now, aside from this irritating Pettigrew business, he had a chance at normalcy, a chance at seeing somebody 'above his station' as Dahlia so bluntly put it. After all, why shouldn't he? He was a star Seeker and top of his class...why couldn't he be popular and date whoever he pleased?

His constant daydreams did him no favors, unfortunately, and nearly wound up costing him a finger during one Care of Magical Creatures class. He'd been fantasizing about holding hands with Cho in the halls, laughing with her, kissing her while everyone watched and not giving a care in the world, only to accidentally stick his hand in the mouth of a murtlap, earning himself a nasty bite in the process.

"Yer s'posed ter keep away from its mouth, yeh know," Hagrid chastised Harry as he ran his finger under a running spigot of water.

"I know, sorry, I was distracted," Harry muttered. "It won't happen again."

"I reckon yeh've learned yer lesson the hard way," Hagrid chuckled, helping Harry to wrap the wound in gauze. Then, he lowered his voice and bent his head closer to Harry. "Say, yeh haven' seen yer cousin around lately, have yeh?"

"Damian?" asked Harry. "Erm...no, not really. He sticks to his common room mostly outside of lessons."

"Ah...smart, but tha's a shame to hear," Hagrid lamented. "He used ter like comin' down here on weekends, helpin' around the paddocks. I could use some help with the cats and Kneazles."

"Do they all come here to be fed?" asked Harry. He had noticed an abundance of the felines patrolling the castle grounds – several dozen, in fact, ordered by Dumbledore to keep an eye out for any suspicious rodent activity. Even Calvin and Mrs. Norris seemed to be getting in on the fun, as Harry spotted them on occasion outside frolicking with the other cats and hunting small prey.

"I leave food out for 'em in a few spots, but they don' all need it," said Hagrid. "There's enough natural prey for 'em to feed on around the Forest. Only trouble is keepin' em away from the Nifflers and Puffskeins, cuz they like to sneak into the pens an' kill em."

"If I see Damian, I'll let him know you asked about him," Harry promised. In truth, he'd been meaning to track his cousin down for a while now, wanting to ensure the boy did not recede into his old ways and find reason to leave Hogwarts. He had one last idea to keep the boy engaged and hopefully remove the fear of Pettigrew from him.

His next chance came a few days later in the Great Hall. Damian made a rare appearance for dinner, scarfing down his meal at the end of the Hufflepuff table before hustling back towards the common room. Harry chased after him, calling his name until Damian reluctantly turned to face him.

"What d'you want?" Damian asked, crossing his arms.

"Erm...we haven't had much chance to talk since the accident," said Harry awkwardly. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Damian shrugged indifferently. "What's it to you?"

"Hagrid's asking about you," said Harry. "He wanted some help with the cats out on the grounds. Why haven't you been to see him lately?"

Damian squirmed uncomfortably at this question. Harry suspected he knew the answer already: the path to Hagrid's hut was where he'd been attacked the first time, so naturally Damian would be afraid of taking that route alone again. "Been busy," he said evasively.

"Listen...I have something for you," said Harry, rummaging through his pockets and withdrawing something. He held it out for Damian to see: a rumpled bundle of yellow-stained parchment. "Know what this is?"

"Nope," said Damian, looking uninterested.

Harry set the tip of his wand atop it and intoned, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The Marauder's Map came to life, ink spreading across the surface of the parchment until the live map of Hogwarts became fully visible.

Damian's eyebrows shot up as he realized what he was looking at. "Bloody hell, is this Hogwarts?" he breathed, snatching the map out of Harry's hands.

"Sure is," Harry nodded. "It shows where everybody is in the castle and on the grounds at all times. Look, there's us." He pointed to the Entrance Hall on the map, where the two dots labeled HARRY POTTER and DAMIAN DURSLEY stood side by side.

"Wicked cool!" Damian asked. Then, his excitement receded back to suspicion as he looked up at Harry again. "Why are you showin' me this? You been spying on me or summat?"

"No," said Harry. "Well, yes, a couple of times I've checked to make sure you and Dahlia are safe. It's useful to have a handy way to know where people are in case of an emergency."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess," Damian muttered. The same thought seemed to be dawning on him now, and his eyes rapidly scanned the map, perhaps searching for some sign of Peter Pettigrew nearby…

"You can borrow it for a little while," said Harry. "If you want to travel alone, you can take the Map with you so nobody can sneak up on you. That way, me or Cedric or my dad don't have to follow you around everywhere."

Damian still seemed to expect the other shoe to drop. "What's in it for you, then?" he demanded. "You got some kinda tracking device on this? It gonna tattle on me for sneaking to the kitchens at night?"

"Nope," Harry said, shaking his head. "My dad and his friends invented that map when they were students so they could sneak around without getting caught. If you plan on breaking the rules, at least this lets you do it safely, right?"

Damian seemed bemused by this answer. It was like he couldn't believe someone was encouraging him to break rules, rather than tell him off for it. "Right, I'll consider it," he said with practiced indifference. "But if I find out you tricked me, you'll regret it, Potter."

"Deal," Harry chuckled. "When you're done using the map, just point your wand and say 'Mischief managed', and it'll turn off. That way you won't get in trouble if a teacher finds it...except my dad, of course, because he'll know what it is straight away."

Damian drew his wand and repeated the pass code, smirking as the ink faded away and the Map became just a spare bit of parchment again. "Thanks, Potter," he said. "Guess you'll see me around...if I don't see you first." And with that ominous promise, he turned to march down the hall towards the Hufflepuff common room, looking far more confident and fearless than he had seemed before.

Harry returned to the Great Hall, wondering if he'd made the right decision giving Damian the map. Was it wise to give a troublemaker access to such a powerful tool to subvert the system? And would Harry accidentally expose his Time-Turner secret if Damian ever happened to check the Map when two Harry Potter's were present in the castle at the same time?

But the pros outweighed the cons in Harry's mind. Damian now had an extra measure of protection in case Pettigrew decided to go after him again. Harry wouldn't have to constantly worry about his cousin being caught unawares – the weakest link in the Potter family security at Hogwarts. And perhaps equally important, this would go a long way as an olive branch to his cousin, a gesture of good faith that Harry valued his relationship with the boy enough to give him such a valuable family heirloom.

Damian may continue to put up a cold front against his cousin's attempts to befriend him, but Harry got the sense that the defenses were finally beginning to thaw.