Nothing is mine.

Harry finally returns to Hogwarts!

Man Has Created Death

The familiar, thin figure of a blond-haired boy prostrated itself on the white marble at Harry's feet, pressing his forehead against the cold floor.

'My lord,' Malfoy mumbled.

A little laughter bubbled up inside Harry as Voldemort's cold grin curved his lips. 'Draco.'

'You summoned me, my lord?'

'I did.' Voldemort crooked one long pale finger at him. 'I have a task for you. As repayment for the damage that your father's failures might have done to our cause.'

Draco raised his head. 'I will do whatever you ask, my lord.'

Voldemort's grin spread a little further across Harry's face. 'Your task is simple, Draco. You may accomplish it by any means.'

Malfoy shivered.

'You must kill that old fool, Dumbledore.'

The colour drained from Malfoy's face and his grey eyes widened. 'My lord?'

'Go, Draco.' Harry indicated the door with one long finger. 'You have taken my mark and I do not give it out lightly; do not fail me as your father has.'

Malfoy scrambled to his feet and stumbled out.

Harry admired the statues of Briganti standing in alcoves along the wall. Either side of the door, she cupped a small stone lantern in her hands, casting a soft white light through the room, further down the wall, her statues coaxed serpents from the ground at her feet, comforted newborn lambs and nurtured blossoming blackthorn. Each figure of her stood over small potted clusters of pale yellow daffodils and between their alcoves hung tapestries of green hills and valleys that were full of blooming daffodils like golden stars across a field of green.

'Those are nice,' he said. 'The statues and tapestries, I mean, not the murderous scheme that I will inevitably end up foiling like all the others.'

'Spring has a price, Harry; things cannot be reborn without first having to die,' Voldemort replied.

'Nothing is lost; all is but changed.'

'Just so.'

'Well, I hope you know just how bad Draco is at scheming.'

Voldemort's high, cold laugh escaped Harry's lips. 'Draco will not succeed. He is a decoy. That old fool will underestimate Lord Voldemort, as he always has, and assume I am throwing away the life of Lucius's son in spiteful retaliation for his father's doubt of my return; Dumbledore's bleeding heart will drive him to devote time and energy to trying to save him.' A sly grin curled Harry's lips. 'I have a second task waiting after he has failed the first.'

'What is it?'

A loud crack echoed through the hall and the daffodils trembled.

Harry opened his eyes to find Hermione sitting back down.

'Sorry,' she said. 'I had to shut the window; we're about to get to Hogsmeade station.'

'It's okay,' he said. 'Voldemort wasn't going to tell me anything useful anyway. I think he's realised if he apparates, it breaks the connection between us for a bit and he can escape my questions.'

She blinked. 'What?'

'On a completely related note, remind me to keep an eye on Malfoy this year,' Harry told her. 'Very important. He's going to try and murder Professor Dumbledore.'

'Harry…' Hermione released an exasperated sigh. 'I dislike Malfoy as much as you do, probably more given you're basically dating the female version of him, but he's not going to try and murder the headmaster.'

'Agree to disagree,' he replied. 'Especially about that female Malfoy part, which I refuse to seriously consider because I don't like the implications. At least, agree to disagree until I can say I told you so, then I won't agree to let you disagree; you'll have to say I was wrong, which is always very funny because you hate admitting it.'

She rolled her eyes. 'If someone's going to get murdered, Harry, it will be you.'

'Not this again.' A single butterfly flapped its wings as they froze, flexing them in the pit of Harry's stomach where they sliced through him like tiny cold sharp blades. 'Daph is never going to hurt me.'

'Not that,' Hermione snapped. 'I've given up on getting either of the two of you to stop falling at the feet of any pretty blonde girl who rolls her skirt up at the waist an inch or so.'

'Oh, then who's going to murder me? Snape is teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts this year, which means I'll probably end up killing him — I think I might be the curse, actually. All our professors seem to end up getting fired or killed because of me. Or by me.'

'I'm going to murder you, Harry,' Hermione growled. 'Me. You're just — just… so reckless.'

'You never complained before.'

'You looked like you were scared before!'

'I did not.'

'You were shaking in First Year. And in Third Year.'

'Oh just skip out second year like it doesn't count,' Harry accused. 'I see how it is.'

'I was petrified!'

'Well, I wasn't.' He laughed. 'That was the year Ron and I didn't have to revise for our end of year exams because you were a statue. Not that Lockhart's exam would have meant anything. What is Magical Me's favourite hair product?'

She huffed at him and folded her arms. 'Ron, will you say something?!'

Ron shrugged. 'Harry's Harry.'

'Wow, thanks Ron,' Hermione said, sarcasm pouring from her tongue. 'Really well done.'

He shot her a helpless look. 'I know we don't want him to get hurt, but he's kind of saved my sister, my dad, me, you, and Sirius. Can't exactly stand up and be like, Harry, please stop trying to save people now it's not me, can I?'

She deflated. 'It's not that that worries me, Ron; something is wrong with him!'

'I'm still here,' Harry reminded them. 'Would you like me to go outside so you can carry on your conversation about me?'

'Nah.' Ron laughed. 'It's good, mate. You know me, I'll say it to your face if I'm going to say it.'

'Not like Hermione—' Harry stuck his tongue out at her '—spreading vicious lies that I was to blame for the downfall of her first and greatest love, Gilderoy Lockhart. He obliviated himself, thank you.'

'Oh just shut up!' Hermione grabbed her trunk and stomped out of the cabin.

'Oops.'

'Nah, we're at Hogsmeade,' Ron said, picking up his own. 'She's not that mad at you.'

'Oh, that's okay then.' Harry reached behind himself and pulled his wand out from the sheath on his back. 'We should catch up though, before she curses some helpless first year Muggle-born.' He levitated his trunk, Ron's trunk, and then Ron as an afterthought. 'There we go.'

'Harry…'

'Yes, Ronald?' Harry asked as both trunks and Ron bobbed along in the air after him.

'Why?'

'Not sure,' he admitted, hopping off the train and strolling through the crowd. 'Possibly the anticipation of how exasperated Hermione will be at such a silly use of magic. Partly maybe also revenge for Project Little Sister.'

'I was barely involved,' Ron protested, shielding his head as he floated through a bunch of third years. 'Hermione dragged me in.'

'I what?' Hermione glowered at the pair of them. 'Why is Ron up there?'

'He finally mastered how to say Leviosa properly,' Harry replied. 'Trouble is, he said it too well, and now it's permanent.'

She pinched the bridge of her nose. 'Put him down, and let's get to school before the good seats are taken and I can't hear what Professor Dumbledore is saying.'

Harry flicked his wand.

Ron thudded to the ground, bouncing off the side of his trunk. 'Ow.'

'Sorry.' Harry laughed. 'It's clearly Hermione's fault.'

'Is it, though?' Ron asked.

Harry swept their trunks into the luggage stack and sauntered through the waiting crowd toward the thestrals and their coaches. 'She's a dark witch, Ronald, of course it is. And only a dark witch would be so evil as to deny it.'

Hermione rolled her eyes and clambered into a carriage.

'Wait!' Harry pointed at the thestrals. 'You should be able to see them now; you were there when our beloved former High Inquisitor Umbridge tragically, and through absolutely no fault of mine, leapt to her death.'

Hermione's forehead creased and she shook her head. 'There's still nothing there, Harry.'

'What?' Harry frowned. 'Maybe you had to see the actual moment?' He glanced around. 'Where's Astoria? I require an explanation.'

'Over here!' Someone shouted.

Harry waved his hand at the carriage. 'Astoria I need to steal you away for a carriage journey; this makes no sense.'

Astoria edged out of the front of the crowd, ushered forward by everyone else. 'Hi, Harry,' she whispered, her mismatched eyes darting all around her; the green of her eye was bright as lush spring grass and the blue was cool as a winter sky, but there was no spark in them, not a hint of the smouldering little flame he'd seen in Daphne's gaze, nor the burning hunger of the dying light of the sun.

'Why can't they see thestrals?' Harry asked.

'I can!' A waif-like blonde girl waved at him with both hands. 'I've always been able to see them.'

'Thank you.' Harry pointed at Hermione. 'See, you're the weird one here, Her-My-Ow-Knee.'

'They're not different to nargles, really. Or the heliopaths that control the Ministry of Magic and secretly want to dominate the entire Magical World from their secret city.'

'Don't let that last bit detract from my point about seeing thestrals,' he added. 'Actually, you might as well come with us again, Astoria. There's space. And you're safe, Hermione only hates—'

'No I don't!' Hermione declared.

'Denial is the first step upon the road to tyranny,' Harry assured everyone. 'Astoria?'

She eyed the empty side. 'I suppose I could,' she mumbled, darting up the steps and wriggling into the corner.

He grinned as he sat down next to her. 'Don't worry, I don't bite, I promise.'

She flinched.

'Right.' Harry frowned. 'You're not fond of vampires.'

Astoria's mismatched eyes widened. 'Did my sister tell you that?' she whispered.

'Yes.' He watched the thestrals ruffle their wings and start along the road, towing the carriage up toward the castle. 'Ages ago.'

'Oh.' She relaxed. 'That's okay.'

'So, about thestrals?' Harry prompted.

Hermione perked up. 'Yes, why can't we see them? We saw Umbridge die.'

'You saw her die.' Astoria shivered. 'But you did not see Death.'

'That's the same thing,' Hermione protested. 'They mean the exact same thing. We saw her die. We saw death.'

'No you didn't,' she mumbled. 'You just saw someone die. You did not see Death.'

Hermione huffed. 'What is the difference, then?' She scowled. 'I bet it's something culty.'

Astoria turned her nose up.

Harry broke down into laughter. 'That's exactly what your sister would do.'

She shot him an anxious glance.

He patted her on the head. 'Don't worry, nobody will get angry about anything.'

The carriage trundled up toward the castle as Hermione stared at her hands, deep in thought. The towers and turrets rose over the sparkling blue waters of the Black Lake, stretching up past the green hills that held Briganti's Shrine to the white clouds drifting across the sky beyond.

'Give it a moment,' Harry whispered as loudly as possible to Astoria. 'She hates it when she doesn't understand things; after she's stewed for a bit she'll figure it out.'

'The Killing Curse,' Hermione burst out. 'It must be that. Cedric Diggory was killed by it. It must be something like murder. It can't just be dying; it must be about how the person you see die, dies.' She clapped her hand over her mouth. 'Oh my god, Astoria, you said…'

Astoria shuddered.

'I'm really sorry,' Hermione murmured. 'Let's… let's talk about something else.'

Ron nodded, a deep and thoughtful frown settling over his face; he studied his hands, stared out at the approaching castle and finally glanced up at Astoria. 'Do you like quidditch?'

Hermione released a long sigh and buried her face in her hands.

'No,' Astoria said.

'At least he didn't ask you if you liked short skirts and blondes.' Harry chuckled to himself. 'Or food. Ronald's brain only has three trains of thought: food, quidditch, and Lav.'

'Trains of thought?' Ron squinted at him. 'Are you just making these up as you go, mate?'

'He's not.' Hermione shook her head. 'Forget quidditch. What subjects are you taking? Your OWLs are pretty soon, right?'

'Next year. I'm taking Divination and Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy.' Astoria shifted in her seat, staring up at the castle. 'But they don't really matter. Daddy says the most important thing is for me to have a baby — a boy. And then after that I can go get married and have a family with someone I want to be with.'

Two little patches of scarlet appeared on Hermione's cheeks. 'What?! That's… that's barbaric!'

'The family has to keep going,' she said. 'If the bloodline ends, or maybe if the name itself is lost, that means…'

'Bad things for people who hope to see a great, green Spring,' Harry murmured.

'Or good things,' Astoria whispered; there were tears in her eyes as she turned away and balled her fists. 'But I don't think good things like that will happen to me.'

A little tug of pity wrenched at Harry. 'Well they should.'

Her lip quivered.

'Although I don't think that it's Voldemort,' he added. 'Sorry, but he's really not the bringing good things type. He likes snakes, really creepy sculpture and long barefoot walks in the dark wearing a skull on his face.'

The carriage rattled to a halt before the entrance.

'Sorry.' Astoria sniffed and swiped her sleeve across her face, squeezing past Harry's legs and leaping out. 'Bye, Harry.' She darted away into Hogwarts.

'What was that?' Hermione asked as they jumped down. 'Is her father really forcing her to have a baby?'

'I don't know,' Harry admitted. 'There is a malediction of blood on their family; one that they think only a saviour can stop. And given there's just Daphne and Astoria, there aren't exactly a lot of ways the name can carry on.'

Hermione scoffed, stomping her way along the corridor. 'Really? Their name? Who cares?!'

'I think they've had long enough to try anything and everything else that might stop it,' he murmured. 'But if their bloodline and family name dies out before the saviour comes, then that means…'

'Oh.' Hermione's lips thinned. 'So Astoria has to have a boy without getting married, destroying her life, so her family name can continue for people to believe in some absurd, horrible prophecy. Why doesn't her older sister have to do it? What's Astoria? Just a spare?'

Harry clamped his mouth shut. 'I would tell you, but Daph would be upset, so I won't.'

She growled. 'Fine. I'll figure it out myself.'

He shrugged. 'I don't—'

Professor Dumbledore stepped down off the grand staircase in robes of bright maroon and deep lavender. 'Ah, Harry, I was hoping I might catch you before the festivities begin.'

'I'm caught.' Harry volunteered himself, feeling, given the glint in Hermione's eye, that the intervention was, if not timely, possibly life-saving. 'What do you need, sir?'

'Might I have a brief word?' The headmaster peered down at them through his half-moon spectacles. 'I'm sure Miss Granger and Mr Weasley can save you a seat in the hall.'

'Sure.' Harry followed Professor Dumbledore two flights up the stairs. 'What is it, sir?'

Professor Dumbledore drew his thin wand and murmured something, surrounding them with a faint shimmer and a quiet, high-pitched whining noise. 'There. Better to be safe, Harry; these are not things that should be spoken of carelessly.'

'What things?' Harry asked.

'I had intended, Harry, to show you that memory Professor Slughorn tampered with this evening after the celebrations of the restart of the year,' Professor Dumbledore said. 'But Emyr Pendragon has… requested I meet with one of his retainers to inform him about the situation in Britain and I must depart immediately instead.'

Harry wracked his brain. 'Blaidd?'

Professor Dumbledore's bright blue eyes sharpened. 'Yes…' His forehead creased. 'Blaidd Cyntgur. I cannot say, Harry, I know any more about him than his name, but how do you know of it when I only received the owl an hour ago…?'

'I saw his sister,' Harry replied. 'She's a redhead. Something like Arwen. Oh no, Hermione's going to find another candidate for Project Little Sister; this is a disaster.' He paused. 'Wait, no, she was his older sister; panic over.'

Professor Dumbledore ran his fingers through his long beard. 'A trouble for another time, Harry. Emyr Pendragon likely doesn't entirely trust what the Ministry is telling him—'

'Very wise, really.'

'It is usually wise not to immediately trust a politician,' the headmaster agreed. 'But time is running short, Harry, so I must ask you to listen for a moment to this old wizard on something very serious.'

'Yes sir.' Harry's smile faded.

'Tom has, I'm quite certain, created a number of very dark items; they must be destroyed, Harry, but I will speak no more of them here just in case.' Professor Dumbledore watched the first years flock past in a flood of excited chatter. 'To safeguard innocence is a most solemn task.'

'I think I've misplaced some of mine over the summer.' Harry laughed to himself. 'Not quite all of it, but definitely some. It's Tonks's fault.'

The headmaster's blue eyes were bottomless, sombre pools. 'I fear I must ask you to sacrifice a little more, Harry. Please know that I detest having to ask, but I have no choice but to.'

'I know,' Harry murmured. 'It's okay, sir; it's always me. At this point I'm pretty used to it. Just don't tell me that you're hosting another tournament.' He hummed. 'Actually, no. I take that back. You can, but only if you invite Fleur Delacour back.'

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. 'How quickly children grow up.' His humour dwindled away. 'These dark items, Harry, we must confirm the number of them before we risk alerting Voldemort to our intentions.'

'The memory,' Harry realised. 'Slughorn knows?'

'I believe that Tom, a most charismatic, charming boy when he wished to be, found in Slughorn a pliable source of information and learnt a great deal from him.' The headmaster's frown deepened. 'Not just how to create these dark items, I suspect, but also much of the faith he now espouses and wields for his own gain.'

'So I have to get that memory before we can do anything?'

'I am sorry to place such a weight upon you, Harry,' Professor Dumbledore murmured. 'But yes. Slughorn will not give it to me. He might, perhaps, if you can reach him, give it to you.'

'I'll get it,' he promised. 'What then? Maerdrid isn't going to pop up and murder you, is he?'

'Maerdrid Pendragon is in South America, Harry. While he usually resides at the Pendragon family's hidden seat of power, Avalon, he is currently performing a service for the high council of the ICW in helping to mediate a conflict between two of their members there. Emyr Pendragon has long desired to see their family restored to the high council and will not jeopardise that by calling his son back home before the matter is resolved to the satisfaction of the high council.'

'Will Emyr Pendragon murder you instead?'

The headmaster favoured Harry with a gentle smile. 'Emyr Pendragon lives in Atlantis, where he is protected from his rivals by the pact of the ICW to commit no hostile acts within the walls of their own city; he has lived there since his ascendancy over his rivals, for that seat on the high council made him their primary enemy. I shall be quite safe.'

'I don't trust them.'

'Both Emyr and Maerdrid can be trusted to act in their own interest,' Professor Dumbledore assured him. 'Killing me risks them much more than it gains, as it has for many years now.'

'Alright.' Harry eyed the wall between the two suits of armour. 'Get the memory from Slughorn. And then?'

'Bring it to me. Or tell me what Slughorn tells you.' The headmaster released his spell. 'Now, you go off to the feast, Harry. Enjoy the celebration. We must all enjoy things while we can; we are not here forever, after all.'

'I usually enjoy myself.' Harry strolled back down the steps, weaving through the crowd and leaning against the wall beside the little wren carved into the stone. 'Daph?' He banged his fist on the wall a couple of times, a handful of butterflies stirring in his stomach.

It melted open.

Daphne slipped out as the last of the first years tottered past, staring up at the ceilings and portraits in wonder. 'You were supposed to knock when everyone was gone.' All her blonde hair was tied back in a smooth ponytail by a twist of crimson crocosmia blooms save that one trembling lock of gold hovering over her ice blue eyes and trembling at her lips.

'I forgot,' Harry said. 'Sorry?'

'You are not sorry,' she murmured. 'Are you?'

'Not really,' he confessed, sneaking a peek at the sliver of bare leg between the silver-and-green-striped hem of her school skirt and her long socks. 'I got to see you sooner, so…'

Daphne's cheeks turned a little pink, and in a blur of blonde hair and a flash of scarlet, she stole a swift kiss, leaving Harry's lips tingling with the taste of redcurrant and all the butterflies fluttering about in his belly.

'Fast,' he said, inhaling the faint fragrance of spearmint.

'I am cursed,' she whispered. 'You should not forget, Harry.'

'I'll try, but I forget most other things when I'm with you.' Harry closed his mouth before he said anything else that he felt the butterflies were to blame for. 'I mean, yes, well, that, really.'

Daphne's impish grin and those bright dimples flashed across her face. 'I love you,' she breathed.

'I love you too, Daph.' He scratched the back of his head. 'Just as you are.'

'Did my sister get here safe and sound?' she whispered. 'I have not seen her for a while; she only comes to visit me when my parents force her and she never says anything.'

'I saw Astoria; we came up in the same carriage. She seemed mostly okay.'

'Good.' Daphne leant her head on his shoulder. 'We should go in. Remember, Harry, you promised to keep everything a secret.'

'I know. I will. I'll disillusion myself and sneak into the hall in a moment so nobody knows.' He paused. 'Except for Ron and Hermione.'

'Granger knows?' Daphne turned her pretty nose up. 'What did she say?'

'She was a bit upset; she thinks you're going to murder me or something.' Harry chuckled to himself. 'She told me she hoped that dating you wouldn't come back to bite me. Too late for that…'

Daphne flushed pink. 'Sorry,' she murmured.

'Don't be.' He kissed her blushing cheek. 'You're amazing.'

'I am not amazing, Harry.' She glanced away. 'I am cursed; I would do anything to let Astoria live her life free of fear and be Daphne instead of a monster, but there is nothing I can do.'

'Well, I think you're pretty amazing as you are,' Harry promised. 'Cursed or not.'

'I love you,' Daphne whispered; she kissed him, her lips lingering on his for an instant, then slipped away into the Great Hall.

AN: Much much more of this and other things via the linktree!

linktr . ee / mjbradley