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October 1978, Kashmir, the honeymoon of James and Lily PotterOriginally, James and Lily Potter hadn’t been planning on taking a honeymoon with the chaos of the war going on in Britain, but their friends had insisted that they go and talk the time to “revel in the joys of a new marriage” (Sirius had wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he said it, causing Lily to slap him). Although it was on such short notice, James knew exactly where to take his new, beloved wife: to the ancestral home of his family. Somewhere around the fifteenth century, the Potters had moved to the Indian province of Kashmir for a while; family lore had it that Charlus, the Lord Potter at that time, had decided to travel after Hogwarts, never content to stay in one place. Never, that is, until he landed in the Indian province of Kashmir some years later, fell in love with a village girl, and settled down like some quintessential fairy tale. While the head of the family thereafter occasionally made journeys back to Britain to handle affairs of the estate, for the most part the Potters had stayed, happy in their home and community in Northern India. James’ father, Fleamont, had been born there, but had left when he was very young with his own father, Harold (after whom their son would later be named, although granted they chose to go with ‘Harry’ instead so it wouldn’t be quite as… well, they just simply didn’t want to saddle their child with the name ‘Harold,’ understandably).Harold took his son back to Britain to advocate against the harmful regime of colonialism that the British were pursuing, and for a while it quite alienated the family from British society both wizard and muggle. For an English lord to be advocating against colonialism was viewed as simply absurd, and while they kept their land and titles, by the time Fleamont had graduated from Hogwarts, Harold had died, sad, exhausted, and ready to join Fleamont’s mother, who had died shortly before he made the decision to return to Britain. Fleamont, seeing what politics had done to his father, preferred to stay out of them, quite happy to live off the family fortune while experimenting with various potions.While on a pilgrimage to México searching for ingredients, he met James’ mother, Eufemia (later anglicized to Euphemia during his wife’s eager undertaking of studying the English language), and theirs was a love at first sight, although Fleamont’s Spanish left something to be desired, as did Eufemia’s English. But they made up for it by sheer enthusiasm, and by the time James came along, years after they had given up hope for a child and Fleamont had restored some of the respectability of the family name in the eyes of the public with his invention of Sleekeazy's hair potion (he actually spent most of his time working on medicinal brews, but Sleekeazy's ironically happened to be the one that became popular in apothecaries), they were both fluent in each. When James was five, they’d actually had to hire an English tutor, as their son seemed to prefer to speak in ‘Spanglish’ in lieu of the proper form of either.All of this history had led James Potter to where he was now, holding hands with the newly-christened Lily Potter as they stepped into the old but lovely bungalow that still belonged to the family, greeting the elves warmly as they put down their bags.“Oh, this really is quite beautiful,” Lily sighed pleasantly. “I’m glad we let that dumb dog talk us into doing this.”“Hey,” James scolded (but he was laughing). “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”“I know,” Lily replied coyly, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss him. “And stupid just so happens to be a family trait, Merlin help me.”“Hey!” James called again, reaching to tickle her sensitive sides as she ran away from him, giggling madly. The struggle ended with a long session of lovemaking in their bedroom, the window open to the autumn air, clean and fresh so close to the Himalayas. Naked on the bed, they finished off the night with a meal of Rogan Josh and rice, feeding each other the aromatic lamb as they traded chaste kisses.“Thank you for bringing me here,” she told her husband sincerely. “I know this place means a lot to your family.”“It really was important for us, but unfortunately I’ve only been once, and my dad only came back for the summer because my mother begged him to take us to see it; coming back made him sad, with everything this place meant to my grandfather.”“I understand,” Lily said, placing a hand gently over James. “I don’t think I could go back to where I grew up either, after everything that’s happened…” By that she meant that her parents were dead and her sister and best friend turned out to be grade-A jerk-faces, but she didn’t need to say as much, because James had supported her through a lot of that as it happened.“For our five year anniversary I’ll take you to Yucatán, where my mother grew up; there are a lot more happy memories there,” James promised to lighten the mood. As they said goodnight to the elves, it didn’t occur to either of them that they wouldn’t make it to see that milestone.______Lily woke in the middle of the night to a fluttering of wings near the open window. Sleepily pulling herself out from under a snoring James, she went to examine the situation, or at the very least get a nice view of the valley at night if it turned out to be nothing. It certainly wasn’t nothing, however, but a pure white bird. Lily had never seen anything like it; her best guess was that it was some sort of albino partridge. She wondered why a partridge would be out so late at night, but when she saw its wing she understood; it was cut deeply and looked infected, and the bird in its distress must have been flapping about in a daze.“Shhh, I’ll take care of you,” she told the bird softly. “May I?” The partridge stopped thrashing quite so much as she reached out to take it gently, padding barefoot along the marble floors. She summoned a silk robe to herself wandlessly, shivering a bit in the chill air but more concerned about getting to the potions kit she’d left abandoned in the parlour than she was with casting a warming charm. She spent the next few hours doctoring and feeding the little bird before conjuring it a perch back in the bedroom so it could heal.“Stay here as long as you need,” she told it sleepily. “We’ll make sure you’re taken care of until you’re strong and healthy again.”The honeymoon was only three weeks long, but luckily the bird was healed in two. James had taken to calling it “Whitey,” to which Lily cheekily replied “I thought that was my nickname!” Then they’d laughed and again spent the afternoon tumbling over one another under the covers in the glorious haze of young love. Whitey left that night (the bird seemed to keep up its nocturnal habits even as it healed, which Lily thought was somewhat strange, as it didn’t sleep too much during the day either), and the couple waved her off with mixed feelings (James cried; Lily didn’t, although she would definitely miss the little lady).The last night of their visit, Lily had a strange dream. She was sitting in a pure white tree wearing only her dressing gown, and the branches were so tall she could see the moon as if it were only meters away. On one of the beams sat Whitey, but a hundred times larger.“How much did I drink tonight?” She asked out loud, surely she had never had a dream quite so vivid and thinking that it must be the bottle of sweet wine that she shared with James causing this. Whitey just cocked her head.“You have done me a tremendous favour,” she trilled, “and for that I am grateful. My lady the moon appreciates my return, and together we have decided to bless you with a great gift.”“You really don’t have to,” Lily felt compelled to say. “It was just a bit of common decency, really.”“Still, that is rarer and rarer in these days, so you shall get a gift,” the bird declared, although she gave no mention of what it was, and before Lily could ask, she felt the tree shrinking.“Goodbye, Lily Puttar,” Whitey quivered. “I wish it were that we could meet again.”By morning, all Lily had left of the dream was a vague memory and a slight headache, and James just laughed and kissed her when she told him she’d dreamt of ‘meeting Whitey on the moon.’ They’d packed their bags and called a cart, ready for a long day’s trek to catch their portkey in Delhi.Not even a year later, despite using every protection charm they could think of, Lily Potter was pregnant._____________________________________August sixth, 1993, Diagon AlleyHarry Potter had had a very long, tiring night, but he was free from the Dursleys for the rest of the summer, and that was what mattered. His back was still burning quite a bit from Aunt Marge. “Well,” she’d said, looking at the scars on his back during the third day of her visit, “looks like Vernon at least knows how to give you a proper thrashing even if that school of yours doesn’t.” Then she’d taken it upon herself to try to outdo her brother, her method of choice being Ripper’s dog chain in place of Vernon’s belt buckle. Harry wondered if he could buy something to help at the apothecary tomorrow without drawing too much suspicion. He’d think on it over breakfast, he decided, as he went to take a very careful shower.He was just trying to find the least painful position on the mattress (which was thankfully far more comfortable than the one in Dudley’s second bedroom, which was so worn that the springs sometimes poked him through the fabric) when a knock sounded on the door. Harry groaned, ready to tell Tom that he didn’t need any shampoos or extra towels or whatever the innkeeper would be coming to ask, when the other side of the door revealed the face of his most hated professor (well, after the one that was possessed by Voldemort, he supposed… although at least Quirrel didn’t fail him because the other students in the class took it upon themselves to mess up his assignments). “Snape?” He gasped, trying not to sound too dismayed.“It’s Professor Snape, Potter,” the man snapped irritably. “Now gather your things; I’m taking you away from here. Honestly, how Dumbledore thought it was in any way safe for you to be left alone in Diagon Alley for a month is beyond me, so I’ve come to collect you.” “You’re going to keep me for the rest of the summer?” Harry grimaced, barely biting back a groan of despair.“Oh Merlin no,” Snape snipped. “I’m dropping you with Minerva, who’s agreed to take you.”Harry felt his whole body slump in relief; Snape wouldn’t have been as bad as the Dursleys, for certain, since he wasn’t allowed to beat him, but he still wouldn’t have been at the top of his list of people to stay with.“Quit rejoicing and turn on the damn light,” the potions master growled. “I don’t much like standing in random hallways in the dark.” Harry rolled his eyes as he turned around but did as the man complied, pulling the chain. When he did, Snape growled at him again. “Where did you get that black eye?!” He demanded, and Harry cringed as he realised he’d forgotten all about the fact that Marge had backhanded him heavily yesterday, bruising nearly half his face. The minister hadn’t noticed because he’d had the glamours on, but they were so tiring to keep up wandlessly (the only way they couldn’t be tracked by the ministry) that Harry usually took them off to sleep, and he’d forgotten to put them back up before answering the door.“I fell,” he mumbled, falling back on the old excuse, the one that had always worked on Privet Drive (“My, that little brown boy is rather clumsy,” the neighbors had gossiped. “As if poor Petunia didn’t have enough to worry about, what with him being such a delinquent and all…”). “Do not lie to me, Potter,” his least favourite professor hissed (going purely on teaching skills, Snape was definitely worse than Quirrelmort, Harry decided).“I’m not,” Harry lied to him, forcing himself to meet the man’s gaze defiantly. Eye contact was a mistake, however, and he jerked back violently as there was a sudden pain in his head and then an invasive presence in his mind. He panicked, falling painfully onto the bed as he watched some of his worst memories flash before his eyes, Snape viewing them carefully and with increasing astonishment and horror. Harry in the cupboard, cold in the winter, hungry from having food deprived as a punishment and his whole body aching from the latest round of Harry hunting or from being Vernon’s convenient target when things went wrong. Blood and belt lashes and trying to see through his shitty glasses that Petunia had picked up from a charity shop. Having his hands held to the burners because he’d burned the bacon when he was six. He thought he might combust from the shame as Snape finally pulled out, leaving him feeling as if he’d been stripped bare. He’d almost rather that the man take the belt to him instead.“Come on Potter; we’re going to the hospital wing,” Snape said, although his voice was dull and emotionless in place of hostile, and he was avoiding Harry’s eyes.Harry wanted to protest, to yell and scream and dig his heels in, to tell Snape that he was staying right here and that he refused to be pitied, and to call him out for entering his mind like that, without his permission and with his presence there so unwanted. But he couldn’t seem to make his body do any of those things, so tired and in pain and emotionally exhausted was he, so he found his feet following ‘Hogwarts dungeon bat’ of their own accord as Snape summoned his bag, not giving it to Harry but putting it over his own shoulder instead.“This might be uncomfortable, in your current condition,” Snape said, and before Harry had the chance to ask “ what, exactly?,” he felt as if he were being squeezed through a very small tube, and then Snape’s cool, sallow hand was keeping him from collapsing at the Hogwarts gates. “Merlin, I’m going to have to carry you, aren’t I?” He groaned, and Harry didn’t even have a chance to say that ‘no way in hell, he’d sooner spend the night on the ground’ before he was being held against black robes and feeling more awkward than he thought he’d ever felt in his entire life up to that point.To say that Poppy Pomfrey was not pleased would be the understatement of the century as she tutted over him and dressed his wounds and cursed the Dursleys under her breath while pouring endless phials of repugnant potions down his throat.“You’ll have to get used to tasting those, dear, as I’m afraid you won’t be off them before the year is out,” she told him, and he thought he must have the worst luck he’d ever heard of. Even being petrified by the basilisk would have been better than this. Oh, the indignity! His mood did not improve in the least when the healer told him he’d have to stay all month, and despite his tiredness he eventually gave up on sleep and started drafting letters to Ron and Hermione. He’d hoped this would never come up, but if Snape knew about the Dursleys now, he’d be damned if he’d keep it from his best friends. The only good thing that happened to him that week was Professor McGonagall coming in and showing him some signed adoption papers; he’d never have to go back to the Dursleys. That was enough to make him forget about all his other problems for approximately three hours, until the professor had taken a break from sitting vigil by his bedside for a moment to go to the bathroom and Dumbledore, in timing too perfect to be coincidental, had come to take her place.“Harry, dear boy,” he had said, “I know you were having quite a hard time at the Dursleys, but your mother’s sacrifice protects you there; you really ought to go back. We can put more protection in place to keep them from hurting you.”Harry had just looked at him, not quite sure what to say, when Professor McGonagall came back out and chased him off, screaming things he would never dare to repeat.“Did he try to make you go back?” She asked, her voice going soft and doting in a tone he still wasn’t used to hearing from the stern professor as she turned to him. “Don’t listen to a word he says; he was upset that I went behind his back to adopt you, since I knew he was terribly insistent on you staying there. But he has no legal standing, so don’t pay him any mind, pet.” Harry just looked up at her with wide green eyes, his head spinning. First his headmaster was trying to send him back to his personal hell, despite the fact that he insisted he cared about Harry, and then his stern head of house was looking at him with an expression of absolute tenderness and addressing him with terms of endearment. He felt a little overwhelmed, and although he was still happy to leave the Dursleys, the pure joy of before had been tainted by anxiety.And that was his month; endless litanies of disgusting potions and Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall (she’d told him he could call her Minerva outside of class, but it felt wrong) fussing over him and tiresome boredom as he was forced to stay in bed. There was pain, too, although that didn’t really figure into it quite as much, as he was quite used to pain, and under the two women’s tender care it was fading rapidly. Still, by the time September the first rolled around, he was nearly ecstatic when the nurse reluctantly said that he could go to the feast later if he rested quietly all day.All in all, Harry was nearly as glad to see the end of the summer as he always was, and he could only be glad that the next would be better.
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The first week of school was a bit strange for Harry; Ron and Hermione had been looking at him out of the corners of their eyes as though he might break. Ron watched him like a hawk to make sure he took every single one of his potions the moment they woke up and before they went to bed, and Hermione kept piling more food on his plate even though he was still working on getting his appetite back after not being allowed much food by the Dursleys for the first part of the summer. And then there was the fact that he had been excused from most of the summer homework; he had reluctantly admitted to Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall that the Dursleys wouldn’t let him do it and that he had to hide under the covers in the middle of the night and thus wasn’t finished yet, he’d expected them to let him work on it in hospital. But instead, they insisted only that he rest and wouldn’t deign to let him so much as open any of his school books, promising him that it would be taken care of.Perhaps strangest of all was the odd fact that Snape wasn’t being… well, he wasn’t being Snape. He avoided Harry’s eyes and didn’t taunt him at all in class; indeed he seemed to have lost the will to taunt anyone. When Neville messed up their first assignment due to his hands shaking so badly from fear of the professor, Snape had merely sighed, looked down his nose at the ruined cauldron, and turned away without a word. Even stranger was that he wasn’t letting any of his Slytherins sabotage Harry’s potions, actually taking points and letting Harry start over when they tried. And his homework essays came back with E’s and O’s scrawled across the top instead of D’s and P’s, despite the fact that Harry hadn’t changed anything in the way he did his assignments. Nervous that he was being easy on him out of pity, he’d knocked on Professor McGonagall’s door tentatively to ask her about it, but she’d read his essays and told him that they were very good and that it was quite spiteful of Snape to ever have given him anything but the grades he was earning now.All in all, Harry supposed, it was better than it had been before, even if he had to sit Ron and Hermione down in private and tell them to please stop feeling bad for him, because he was the same Harry he always was and he hated pity. They’d told him that they didn’t pity him, but that they were angry at the Dursleys and worried about him, and Harry had promised them that he was fine now but had eventually conceded that he couldn’t really just ask them to stop worrying, since he’d worry about either one of them the same way. Then they’d hugged it out and Hermione pulled out a behemoth tome that took up half the coffee table while Ron and Harry sat down to play wizard’s chess. Ron was asking him if he thought that Professor Lupin had perhaps looked a bit ill today when Harry felt a terrible itching suddenly come over his back, between his shoulder blades.“What? Sorry, I missed that,” Harry said, reaching back to try to give it a good scratch. “I was just asking if Lupin seemed a bit off today, but nevermind that? What’s wrong, mate?” Ron prodded, looking at him in concern.“Nothing really,” Harry sighed, even though it wasn’t nothing. “My back is just itchy.”“Want me to scratch it for you?” he asked his best friend, who looked hesitant. Would Ron feel the scars?The redhead picked up on his line of thinking. “Harry,” he sighed, “I’m not gonna judge you for having scars.” Harry looked at him in surprise, his eyes like a deer in headlights.“How- how’d you know?” he stammered, glad that Hermione had gone up to bed recently, so that it was only Ron there to witness his embarrassment.“I just kinda figured,” his best friend exhaled wearily. “I mean, you used to change in the dorm with all of us, and now you go to the bathrooms. And you look skinnier than you did last year. I’ve seen Percy use glamours whenever he gets a really bad spot, and when you told us about the Dursleys I kind of put two and two together. It doesn’t change the way I think of you at all mate, but you’re squirming like a bouncing bluebell, so can I please help you out?”“A-alright,” Harry agreed hesitantly, as Ron took off his outer robe and pressed his nails up against Harry’s jumper, working up and down, up and down, not saying anything as he moved over the tangible razed lines in his best friend’s skin. It helped a bit, and he could hear Ron yawn behind him, so eventually he thanked him and they both went up to bed.He put up his silencing charms in case he had a nightmare and curled up under the covers, but he was just beginning to get comfortable when the itching that Ron had managed to reduce to just a niggling discomfort came back full force. He spent half the night clawing at his back and barely got a wink of sleep, and Ron took one look at him the next morning and dragged him straight to Pomfrey.“I don’t need to go Ron, it’s just a little itching,” he complained, but the redhead didn’t slow his headlong rush to the nurse.“It could be a sign of something worse- Hermione was telling me all about how itching can sometimes be a sign of Hod’s… Hog’s,” he scrunched his face up in thought before sighing, “of a type of this muggle disease called cancer,” he finished, looking quite worried. “Have you been having night sweats or swollen lump nods?” “I don’t have cancer, Ron,” Harry sighed in exasperation. “And it’s called a lymph node- honestly, Hermione should really stop trying to teach you about science; it only scares you. First you’re afraid that gravity is gonna fail and we’re all gonna float away, and now you suddenly think I’m dying.”“Well, I’m not gonna take that chance,” Ron said stubbornly as they reached the hospital wing, pushing Harry through the doors in front of him so he didn’t try to run. “Madame Pomfrey?” he called, and the nurse came through, followed by Professor Lupin, and Ron suddenly squinted at the man, curious.“Wait, so you are sick,” he told the professor. “Oh Merlin- are you itchy? Did you give Harry the cancer?!” He was beginning to work himself up into a real panic, and Harry put a hand on his arm.“I don’t have cancer, Ron, for the last time,” he sighed in exasperation.“I’m only here for a headache potion- but it’s not contagious, I assure you,” Lupin said, looking at the darker boy with concern. “But are you alright, Harry?”“I’m fine,” Harry assured him. “My back is just a little itchy, and Ron decided to drag me all the way up here on a Saturday morning because he worries even more than his mum.”“I do not,” Ron argued, but he was gazing at Harry so intently it seemed as if he was afraid that his best friend could die if he blinked. The healer merely clucked, taking Harry over to a bed.“You can leave now, dear,” she told Ron. “I’ll take care of him.”“I’m not leaving,” Ron declared, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I’ll stay over here so Harry can have some privacy during the exam, but I’m going to stay here with him until I know that he’s alright.”“I suppose there’s no stopping you, is there?” Poppy merely shook her head. “Very well- have a seat while I take a look at Harry.”Ron made his way over to one of the chairs in the corner while the healer spirited Harry away behind a curtain and had him remove his robes. She looked at the red scratch marks in concern.“Hmm, you’ve really been having a time of it, huh?”“I guess,” Harry admitted. “It was just really itchy so I couldn’t get to sleep last night and I scratched instead, but it didn’t help.”“No, scratching usually doesn’t, although it might feel better for a second,” the nurse told him sympathetically. “But besides the irritation from you scratching it, I don’t see anything wrong…”“I promise I’m not lying!” Harry swore, looking up at her anxiously, and as Poppy looked at his wide, fearful eyes it struck her that he seemed to be expecting her to yell at him or even start hitting him, even though she would never do such a thing.“I know, darling,” she told him. “I just mean that whatever is causing it doesn’t seem to be a rash, and my diagnostic charms don’t show you as coming down with anything. But it could just be the scars on your back bothering you.” When they were healing, they had certainly itched, but that had been two weeks ago already since they stopped and Harry couldn’t figure out why they would suddenly start up again.“Sometimes scarring does funny things,” she told him. “It could even be something else, honestly- the diagnostic charm would have shown me if you were having any sort of allergic reaction, but it could have just been something else irritating your skin. Maybe you had a bug bite or two and scratched too much and now it’s just gotten worse; I’ll just put some cream on it and keep you here for a night, hmm?”“Do you have to?” he asked. “Keep me, I mean?” The cream actually sounded quite nice.“I’d rather, just to be safe, but even if I thought it was okay to let you go, I fear Mr. Weasley would insist I hold you here for observation,” she laughed.“I guess you’re right,” he sighed. The cool salve that Madame Pomfrey put on his back helped a lot, though, and Ron stayed with him all day and played chess and exploding snap with him and told him lots of funny stories from the summer, like the time Fred and George put a stink bomb in Percy’s sock drawer or kept making fun of him for being a prefect and hiding his badge.“Well, off you go,” she finally told the redhead at dinner time- she’d been overly generous by letting him stay for breakfast and lunch, which wasn’t something she usually permitted. Ron still argued loudly, though, wary of leaving his friend, but Harry eventually reminded him that he probably ought to let Hermione know where they’d been all day, since she no doubt thought that she’d somehow missed them at meals and they’d gone to muck around on the quidditch pitch or something.“Alright,” he sighed, dragging his feet out the door reluctantly. “Love you mate- I’ll come first thing tomorrow, if you’re not out by then,” he promised, and Harry told him that he loved him too and then lied back on his bed, yawning. He’d managed to get a pretty good nap after Madame Pomfrey gave him his dinner, but he woke up as the moon rose, the itching worse than ever. The nurse put more cream on his back, but it didn’t help. Sighing worriedly, she’d given him a sleeping potion, which at least knocked him out so he couldn’t feel his discomfort.Despite the potion, however, Harry woke up when the moon was at its zenith, screaming in pain. His back felt like it was on fire, two red-hot lines down his shoulder blades feeling like they were weeping lava. It was worse than any beating he’d ever had, as it felt like it was starting from his very bones and working upwards.Poppy came rushing to his side, flipping him gently onto his back and gasping. The skin was red and inflamed, and it looked like something was moving under there. She’d never seen anything like it. Before she could even begin to think of what to do, however, Harry gave one final, agony-wrought scream that made her heart clench as she could do nothing but watch his absolute misery as the skin finally cracked open, blood spilling down the his sides and onto the sheets as something pushed its way out on either side. Unnoticed to either of them, with Harry in so much pain and with Poppy's eyes focused on his back, a line of black, evil magic was pushed violently from Harry's forehead, its own screams hidden by Harry's. Then it was over as quick as it began, the wounds sealing themselves like they had never been, leaving Harry with two downy white wings, one on each shoulder blade, clean and fluffy and light. These were not a predator’s wings, but the soft, gentle appendages of a songbird.“What?” What is it?!” Harry asked anxiously, trying to crane his neck around.“You… you have wings,” she gasped, conjuring a mirror so he could see them better. When he did, he blanched quite drastically.“What in Merlin’s name are those?!” he cried, reaching out to touch one. It was soft, and to his surprise he felt the contact not only on his finger but on the strange wing as well.“They look almost like something you’d see on a baby bird,” Poppy murmured. “Those fluffy bits are the down that they have when they’re born. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re probably going to grow feathers at some point…” “Seriously?!” Harry groaned. “Wait,” he suddenly looked up at her. “Did either of my parents have this problem?”“No,” Poppy sighed- it would certainly have helped her if they did and she’d had something to go on. “I was the nurse when both of your parents were your age, and I can confidently say neither of them grew wings.”“Then what if…” Harry looked like he was moments from tears. “What if I’m not really theirs?” he stammered, lip quivering. Poppy just sat down and put a hand on his hair.“Oh sweetheart,” she said, “you’re definitely a Potter- I quite literally pulled you out of Lily, and you came out looking so much like James there was no doubt he fathered you. Lily would have had to look long and hard to find somebody else who was half-Indian, half-Mexican, and with the most atrocious hair I’ve ever seen, and even if she did find somebody like that, she loved your father far too much to ever have a child with anybody else.”“Then why do I have wings?” he warbled, looking lost as he gazed up at her with his captivating viridian irises. “That,” Poppy sighed, waving her wand again in frustration, “I do not know. I’ve cast diagnostic charm after diagnostic charm, and all they tell me is that there’s some sort of ancient magic that has bonded with your core.”“Well I can’t walk around like this,” he cried, waving his hands around. The little wings, reacting to his flurry of movement, flapped rapidly, and the healer couldn’t help but think that he looked adorable, so small and short for his age and with his eyes wide behind the gold frames of the new glasses she’d gotten him and his little baby wings fluttering angrily as they responded to his emotions.“I don’t want you casting a glamour while you’re still recovering,” she told him sternly, repeating the conversation she’d had with him earlier in the summer. “But I’ll cast a glamour for you, just for the time being until we figure out what is going on.”“Thank you,” he declared gratefully, throwing his arms around her in a hug. But no matter how hard she tried, the wings would not glamour. She cast it over and over again for an hour and absolutely nothing happened. Eventually, she put her wand down with a sigh.“I suppose whatever magic this is does not want to be hidden,” she told him apologetically, and Harry’s face fell but he thanked her anyway.“I appreciate you trying,” he said. “And I guess I oughta get used to this sooner or later, anyway…”“That’s a good way to look at it,” Madame Pomfrey praised him, patting his head. “Now try to get some sleep, all right love?”“Okay,” Harry sighed.But he couldn’t sleep, not for a single minute, no matter how hard he tried. And the strangest part was that he didn’t really feel tired, not even when the sun rose and he realised that he’d maybe gotten six hours in total over the last two days.He obviously couldn’t lie on his back, so he was resting on his stomach when Madame Pomfrey brought him porridge and toast.“So, can I go after this?” he asked her, anxious about the sorts of reactions he was going to receive but knowing it would have to happen eventually and bored of being in the hospital wing after spending so much time there already this summer.“Well, you’re perfectly healthy, and there’s no reason to keep you, so you’re free as a…” Madame Pomfrey caught herself before she finished the expression, figuring that it might not be the best thing to say right now. “Yes, you can go,” she corrected herself, although it had already been clear what she was going to say.“Thanks, Madame Pomfrey,” Harry replied, just giving her a smile even though he was still quite worried. She’d been very nice and taken fantastic care of him, and none of this was her fault.Ron had been rushing up to visit him, bringing Hermione with him and for once the first one in Gryffindor to leave the breakfast table. When they saw Harry’s wings, they both stopped in their tracks, and Ron very nearly fell over.“Well,” he croaked finally, when he could speak again. “At least it’s not cancer…”
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“How did this happen?” Asked Hermione eventually, wanting to touch the wings in fascination but afraid of crossing Harry’s boundaries.“I don’t know,” Harry sighed. “Madame Pomfrey says it’s some sort of ancient magic, but nothing else will show up on the diagnostic charms, and they won’t glamour either. Go on, you can touch them,” he told her, unable to stop himself from smiling slightly at the way she looked at them in wonderment. Madame Pomfrey had already charmed all of his clothes to fit over them, so he was wearing jeans and his favourite Weasley jumper (green, with a golden H), and Hermione’s dark hands brushed along the wool as she tentatively stroked the top of them with a finger, slowly working her way all the way down to where the tips ended at the bottom of Harry’s back.“They’re so soft,” she whispered reverently. “You’re like a baby dove or something…”“Madame Pomfrey says I’m probably gonna grow feathers eventually,” Harry explained. “But neither one of us are sure when, since nobody knows what is going on.”“Bloody brilliant,” Ron breathed, touching the other wing carefully, as though worried he’d hurt it. “Do you think you’ll be able to fly?”“Don’t you dare try until the feathers grow in,” she ordered Harry, when she saw his eyes light up at the previously unconsidered possibility, “and then only under adult supervision.”“Alright,” he promised her, not overly keen of becoming a Harry-shaped spot on the ground in any case. “Can we go now?” he asked, seeming a bit happier since Ron and Hermione were so excited.“You may,” she told him. “But come back if you have any problems.”“We’ll make sure he does,” Ron said, as Hermione nodded along, her afro bobbing fervently as she did so.“Alright- have a nice Saturday,” she instructed, and they agreed cheerfully as three sets of feet went pattering towards the hallway.Harry soon remembered why he didn’t want wings in the first place as all the portraits started whispering, and as soon as they came across an actual person, things got even worse.“The fuck?!” Pansy Parkinson gasped, coming back from the library after checking out a book of cosmetic spells, which she very nearly dropped when she caught sight of Harry. “Potter, do you have wings?!” “Hey, leave him alone!” Ron ordered, stepping in front of Harry protectively.“S’alright Ron,” Harry mumbled- after all, she hadn’t said anything particularly rude to him yet. “Yeah,” he sighed, “I got wings.”“Well…” Pansy responded slowly, blowing a lock of hair out of her face. “That is… something…”“Are you gonna run off and tell your boyfriend now?” Ron asked, glaring at her, and Pansy stared at him for a full moment before she burst out laughing.“What?” Hermione asked. “Why on earth are you laughing?”“Because,” Pansy gasped. “I’m so gay! I can’t believe… that you thought…” Harry began to worry that she was running out of air.“Alright,” she sighed eventually, still shaking a bit as she held back more giggles. “I’m okay now- just out of curiosity, Weasel, who did you think my boyfriend was?”“Malfoy,” Harry answered, still not meeting her eyes, and another bark of laughter escaped her.“What?” Ron snapped, still kind of offended at being called ‘Weasel.’ “Is he gay too?”“Sweetheart,” Pansy looked at him pityingly. “Draco is the world’s palest fucking rainbow- he doesn’t know it yet, but he’s so far back in the closet he’s found fucking Narnia.”“Wait a minute,” Hermione interrupted, looking at Pansy critically. “How do you know about Narnia?”“What?” Pansy asked, “you didn’t think all purebloods were muggle-hating snobs, did you? I’m a bitch, but I’m not a racist bitch, geez. My first kiss was a muggle, and let me tell you, she taught me some stuff...” She whistled and fanned herself, and Harry and Ron looked at each other and made a face.“Then how come you’re friends with Malfoy?” Ron challenged eventually, and she just rolled her eyes at him.“My mum is friends with his mum- they were kind of messing around before Draco’s mum’s parents pushed her into that marriage contract, so I kind of got stuck with him. He’s alright though, when he’s not parroting his dumb dad. I’m working on getting him to stop being such a little arsehole, but he’s a teenage boy, so it might take a while. He did promise me under pain of having his balls hexed off that he would never, ever, ever use the m-word again, though,” she told them.“What the bloody hell is going on here?” Ron asked. “Harry has wings, and you’re being… well, not evil?”“Wonderfully put, Weasel, wonderfully put,” she snorted. “But it works like this, basically- I’m part of Draco’s squad, so even when he’s being a little twat out in public, I have to support him, because that’s what Slytherins do- the rest of the school hates us, so we keep any disagreements within the common room, capiche?”“That seems… complicated…” Hermione said eventually.“Yeah, there are some days when you do not wanna be in our common room. That’s why I got the Hufflepuff password- there’s this really cute fifth year who hooks me up with weed and I let her put her hand up my shirt. Not great with her tongue, but we’re working on it.”“Ew, gross, we’re thirteen!” Harry exclaimed in horror, his wings fluttering as he scrunched his nose.Pansy merely shrugged. “I am mentally far beyond my years. And you don’t have too much room to talk, honestly- you killed a basilisk at twelve.”“But that’s different than kissing somebody!” Harry protested.“A lot harder, maybe,” Pansy said dismissively. “But whatever- you’ll get there when you get there. I mean, you’re still pretty little if your wings are any indication.”Harry stomped his foot angrily. “I just got them yesterday!” He protested. “Having baby bird wings doesn’t make me little- I’m a lot older than they are!”“Of course you are,” she agreed, patting him on the head condescendingly. “Anyway, I’m going to go try some of these new nail-painting spells; see ya later. Oh,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “If I’m mean to you next time I see you, don’t take it personally. I can’t be caught being nice to Gryffindorks; it’ll ruin my reputation.”“I’m pretty sure you weren’t being nice to us just now,” Ron muttered.“Good, then you’ve got the hang of it,” Pansy averred. “Ta!”“That was weird.” Harry shook his head in befuddlement as she strutted away. “And I know weird.”Ron shook his head in agreement. “I’m honestly not sure what was weirder- you growing wings, or the fact that I think we might have just made sort-of friends with Pansy Parkinson.”“I think it’s the Pansy thing,” Hermione hummed. “I mean, we’re used to strange things happening to Harry, but this is just totally unprecedented.”“It is quite unpresidented,” Ron said sagely, shaking his head.“No Ron- unprecedented,” Hermione stressed the word.“Sorry,” Ron grumbled, cheeks lighting up. “Sometimes your accent is kinda hard to understand; it’s so posh.” Hermione was from Hampstead, which being in London, the home of some of Britain’s most polished accents, made her sound quite sophisticated even when she wasn’t trying to be. Little Whinging was also fairly close to London, so Harry’s accent was pretty stereotypical middle-class British fare as well, even if the way he’d been treated growing up was most certainly not. Ottery St. Catchpole was in Devon, where the accent was a little more colloquial, so there was the occasional misunderstanding between the three of them (although they all had trouble understanding Seamus at times; they were pretty sure that all the Irish and Scottish kids at Hogwarts had a club where they just met to plot on how to best confuse the rest of them).“You just don’t like big words,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes at him fondly.“I know a normal amount of words for kids our age; you just know too many,” Ron quipped back at her. They walked in playful banter like this for a while and thankfully didn’t run into anyone else until they got to the common room, where the fat lady looked at Harry curiously.“Well, that’s new,” she remarked. Harry, embarrassed, curled his wings up around his shoulders as he hunched down, something he previously didn’t realise he could do.“He’s a little shy about it,” Hermione explained to the portrait. “We don’t even know quite what happened.”“I imagine you’ll be going to the library later, hmm dear?” the portrait asked her, and Hermione nodded eagerly, her eyes lighting up despite the fact that her expression was perplexed.“Yes,” she agreed absently, already lost in her head. “Although, to the best we can figure, it didn’t come from either of his parents, so I’ve no idea where to start…”“Well, inheritance isn’t the only way to get some sort of creature magic,” the lady in the portrait mused. “If I were you, I’d start by looking at creatures that don’t avoid humans; sometimes, in very rare situations, there have been instances where a wizard was gifted with a specific strain of magic for providing aid to a creature. Rumour has it that Salazar Slytherin got his parselmouth abilities because his father saved a boomslang in distress, who then offered him and his descendents the gift as a boon. You’re a parselmouth, aren’t you, dear?” she asked Harry, who nodded slowly, still hiding behind his wings.“Yes, makes sense,” she nodded. “There are lots of magical snakes in India; very powerful ones. One of your ancestors must have done one a great favour once. That could be a clue to the wings issue as well; after all, if your father and his father weren’t parselmouths and yet the ability runs in the family, it could be a sign of the magic skipping generations.”“So maybe we ought to look back then, see if a Potter somewhere down the line saved a bird of some sort…” Hermione trailed off, but Violet shook her head.“I’ve been here for two hundred years, and I’ve never seen any Potters with wings; and they’ve all gone here, even though they lived in India- it’s a proud Potter tradition, going to Hogwarts. No, if you want to find the key to this,” she waved her hand at Harry, “I’d start more recently, by looking at the lives of his parents and grandparents: anything you can find. I’d start with Euphemia, honestly- since we know the least about her. If she’d saved a bird back in her homeland, maybe it gifted a power to her descendents that just now appeared. If nothing turns up there, I’d try looking for information on Fleamont and then move down to James and Lily. But any farther than that won’t help you at all; gifts from a creature rarely manifest more than two generations down the line for the first inheritor.” “It might help if we knew more about what’s going on with Harry, too…” the black girl muttered to herself. “Here!” she declared, moving so quickly that she nearly smacked Ron in the face when she went rifling through her bag. “Take this,” she told the redhead, handing him a spare leatherbound journal, “and anything that happens in the dorms, record it. I’ll have one too, to mark down what happens to Harry when we’re all together, and maybe that information will help us get somewhere.”“Such a smart girl,” Violet cooed, as she opened the portrait, forgetting to even ask them for a password. Harry slowly sighed and inched his wings back to their standard positioning, not looking forward to the volley of questions that he was surely about to receive.All heads turned to them, and Harry couldn’t help it; he shielded himself with the wings again, despite the fact that it made the appendages themselves far more prominent.“What happened to you, Har?” Dean asked eventually, and a mumbled “grew wings,” could be heard from the small teen himself, still hiding.“Well we can see that, dear brother,” George said, sliding up, Fred banking Harry in on the other side as they each threw an arm around him, simply acting like the wings weren’t even there as they gave him a gentle squeeze. “What we mean to say is, how did this come about?”“Dunno,” Harry answered quietly, slowly moving one downy appendage aside to peek at the twins. “Just woke up an’ they were coming through. Madame Pomfrey can’t figure out why.”“Can you fly?” Seamus asked, barrelling closer. Ron put a hand on his chest to push him back a bit; Harry was flammable, and it could only be assumed that his wings were even more so. Ron didn’t want to risk it.“He’s not supposed to try until his feathers come in,” Hermione informed the room at large. “Right now he’s just got the down that you see on new chicks.”“Awww,” Angelina Johnson came up, fondly ruffling his hair. “As if you weren’t already too cute for your own good.”“Yeah, but can he still play quidditch?” Oliver cried out, and Katie Bell smacked him, since her girlfriend was too far away.“Would you stop thinking about quidditch for one second?” she asked him. “This is a big life adjustment for Harry!”“I mean, there’s nowhere in the rules that says winged players can’t play quidditch,” Fred pointed out reasonably, when Harry tensed at the idea that he might be forced off the team. The little seeker relaxed minutely, and George nodded in approval.“D’you think Snape’s gonna wanna harvest him for potions ingredients?” Neville asked with a gulp, still quite afraid of the professor, certain that he was going to return to his normal churlish ways any moment now.“Neville, that’s illegal,” Hermione assured him. The chubby blonde let out a huge sigh of relief, glad his friend wouldn’t be part of the mangled mix that he’d surely brew next class.“When you start growing feathers, can we practice our levitation charms on them?” a random first year cried out.“No,” Ron answered before anyone else had a chance to say anything. “Absolutely not.” The first year sighed- he was pretty sure that Harry Potter’s feathers would have been the key to a good grade.“Harry?” Ginny’s tentative voice came from behind him, and the teen jumped a bit. “Are you okay?” She’d gotten a bit more comfortable around him after he’d saved her life, and after dealing with the aftereffects of the trauma all summer, she knew what a big deal these major life changes could be, even if Harry’s were a lot different from hers.Harry turned around to face her, noting with just a bit of envy that she’d shot up over the summer and was now nearly two inches taller than he was.“I think I will be,” he replied, giving her a small smile as the rest of the crowd eventually went back to whatever they were doing, seeing that Harry was flanked protectively by his group of friends and that they’d be given no chance to pester him with questions at the moment. “What about you? How are you doing after… well, after everything?”“I think I’m getting better,” Ginny responded eventually, in a low voice. “My dad said the muggles talk to people about these things, so he’s been taking me to see a healer. They were kind of confused at first, since they’re a neurologist that normally deals with magical head injuries, but even having someone to listen has been really nice.”“That’s good,” Harry agreed. “And hey- maybe they’ll realize that wizards need therapists too and someone will eventually learn to do that.”“Some places do have mind healers,” Ginny informed him. “But we don’t really have them here; the closest one is in France, but we couldn’t afford to do that every week. The bloke I’m talking to know is doing it for free because my dad de-enchanted a pocket watch for him once, and I think da already feels bad that that was all he could give me. But I’m getting better.”“I’m really happy for you,” Harry told her, and she looked at him fondly. She’d mostly gotten over her crush on him during the summer, and now she thought that they could be really good friends. And Harry understood what it was like to have you-know-who messing with his life, so he was one of the few people she felt comfortable talking about it with.Eventually, it was time to go to lunch, and George, Fred, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny continued to form a protective barrier around him as they reached the Great Hall, and it occurred to Harry only as Professor McGonagall’s eyes caught onto him that he’d forgotten that he had a guardian he could have talked to about this, since he hadn’t seen her since Friday evening before this whole thing started.“Poppy told me what happened,” she informed him as she came down to the table, not sounding mad at all that he hadn’t come to her yet. She put up a muffliato charm so they could talk in private. “I just wanted to check on you and make sure you were doing okay.”“Er, I think so,” Harry muttered, still not quite sure how to deal with adults looking at him in concern. “I uh… it only happened last night, or else I would have, er, made sure to tell you about it…”“It’s alright dear,” she assured him, ruffling his hair. “I’m sure you had a lot of other things on your mind, and I should have made sure to check after you Saturday, but I thought you were just enjoying your weekend and might want a little time with your friends anyway after I was with you all summer, and I got a little caught up in marking. I’ll make sure to do better next time.”Harry wasn’t quite sure how to take this; his head of house was apologising when she hadn’t really done anything wrong, as far as he could figure. He didn’t want her to feel bad though.“S’alright,” he mumbled. “You don’t have to look after me all the time…”“I’m your parent, dear; it’s my job,” she reminded him. “It’s just that I know that you’re a teenager and might want your space, but I should also know that you might have trouble coming to me for help after everything that you’ve grown up with. I’m trying to find a balance that works for us, and in the meantime, please know that you can talk to me about anything and I won’t be upset; I promise.”“Er, thanks professor… Minerva…” he forced out, noting the way her eyes lit up when he used her first name. “No problem, darling,” she said tenderly, taking down the muffliato charm and ruffling his hair affectionately. She wanted to kiss him on the forehead, but she worried that might embarrass him when he was already getting enough unwanted attention today, so she just squeezed his hand softly and headed back to her own lunch, trusting Hermione to make sure Harry’s plate was full so she didn’t make him self-conscious by lingering there fussing over him.“Oh, hello Harry,” Luna came over from the Ravenclaw table, sitting down and taking a plate. “Nice to see you.” She wasn’t acting any differently than she always did, and Harry knew he should be confused but really just felt grateful.“Hi Luna,” he greeted back.“Your wings are very pretty,” she told him, finally bringing up the elephant in the room. “I was wondering when they were going to come through.”“Wait,” Harry gasped, suddenly dropping his fork, which clattered against the table. “You knew?!” “The moonsong always liked to hang around you,” she shrugged, as if it were obvious. “It obviously thought you were special, although I bet they hurt quite a bit pushing out.”“Wait, Luna,” Hermione asked, for once looking at the girl completely seriously. “Do you know anything else?”“No, I’m really sorry,” she murmured dreamily. “I can only say what I see, but I did notice that there are less nargles in this generally area than usual.”Hermione looked at the little blonde girl critically, seeming to see her in a different light as she scribbled something in her notebook.“What’s moonsong?” Harry asked, not protesting when the younger Ravenclaw gently put a hand in his direction, silently asking for permission to touch.“It’s all the good things she sends in our direction,” Luna explained, nibbling on a carrot. “The pretty things, the light and joyful things. They like to gather around you. Sometimes she sends bad things too,” the girl sighed, the corner of one languid eye darting quickly towards the staff table, so nearly evanescent that it went unnoticed by all but Professor Lupin, who tensed slightly. “But that’s not her fault,” she continued. “The moon is a good thing, but there has to be darkness everywhere, or else the light would have nothing to push away.”Hermione was now looking at Luna intently, taking down every word she said in her notes. She’d thought that she was too fanciful at first, still in the imaginative phase of childhood that some people just never quite grew out of, but it was clear that she was onto something, now. They had their first divination class tomorrow as well; perhaps that would add something to her comprehension of the situation (it would not)._______________Severus Snape stared down at Lily’s son attentively, wondering how in the world the boy had sprouted wings. Beyond that, however, he was worried that it would make him more of a target. Besides the obvious problem of hiding them from muggles (which would have to be figured out at some point before next summer, as surely Minerva would want to take him out to do some of the things he’d never gotten to do as a child), if whatever still remained of the dark lord were to catch wind of this… well, the point was that Harry Potter was now more mysterious than ever, and it was not good, not with so many people who wished the boy harm- including Sirius Black, who was on the loose right now. Even if his own feelings on the little teen were so jumbled at the moment (he was clearly a lot less like his father than Severus had assumed, and he’d been seeing more and more of his mother in him. He’d treated him terribly, furthermore, and his own guilt on the matter was something he didn’t quite know how to deal with yet). Nonetheless, he’d made a promise to Lily, and he intended to keep it, even if it killed him.Meanwhile, Remus Lupin was also deep in thought. The full moon the night before had been a rough one even with the wolfsbane that Severus was required to make him, and he’d found himself barely capable of dragging himself off of the floor of his office to get dressed and come down to lunch, but he didn’t want to arouse suspicion this early in the year; he’d have a hard enough time explaining all his illnesses during the full moons that fell during the school weeks. But as soon as little Harry entered, he felt the aching leave his joints, and he found himself feeling nearly as good as he did in the middle of the month, when he was farthest from the wolf. He wasn’t sure what to do with this information, but it definitely bore watching. Tomorrow he would have his first practical lesson of the year, and he was curious to see how all the children would manage. He was debating about what to do with Harry during that lesson, if he were honest- at first he’d thought that the child who used to call him Uncle Moony would have a boggart that turned out to be Voldemort, but then the boy hadn’t been on the train, and there had been dementors hunting through for… for Sirius (and the name still sent such a pang through his heart, of what he’d thought was such a pure love turning into this terrible betrayal). And it hadn’t escaped his notice that Harry was so much smaller and thinner than he’d expected him to be- his father had been lanky, but he’d been tall as well, and Harry wasn’t lanky, he was clearly malnourished. Then he’d heard that Professor McGonagall had taken custody of him, and he’d gone to her to ask about it, had found out that Albus had placed his sweet little boy with the Dursleys, and the wolf had nearly come tearing out right then and there. The only thing keeping him from rushing up to the headmaster’s office to hex him into oblivion was the thought that he needed to be here to keep an eye on Harry with everything going on. And then the child showed up to lunch with wings and an aura that soothed the wolf far better than even the wolfsbane Severus had made, and he just couldn’t make any sense of it._______September the first had been on a Wednesday this year, and they had Care of Magical Creatures on Mondays and Tuesdays, so it was the first time Hagrid was teaching the third years when the children woke up on the second week of school, excited that they could finally stop reviewing and begin doing practical lessons. Hagrid greeted them cheerfully when they reached his hut, clapping a giant hand on Harry’s shoulder and gently stroking his right wing reverently.“Been up since five preparing this lesson,” he told the trio of Gryffindors with a big smile on his face. He was still beaming at Harry, and he was nearly puffing with pride as he told the little Gryff that his wings were some of the most beautiful he’d ever seen.Hagrid took them down past the hut and to a fenced in field, where Harry saw some of the most interesting creatures he’d ever seen. They had the head and front legs of an eagle and the back end of a horse, and they were alternately grazing or gulping down large hunks of raw meat from a trough in the corner. Harry saw Draco Malfoy eyeing them derisively, and his wings fluttered angrily- he was up to something. Luckily, he didn’t have to react, because Pansy was grabbing him by the arm.“We should stay out here,” she told him snidely. “Playing with eagle-horses is dangerous; what a Gryffindor thing.”“If they can handle those dumb beasts, so can I,” Draco huffed, and one of the passing creatures, a beautiful dappled grey, swatted Malfoy angrily with his tail, sending him sprawling into a mud puddle. As he muttered that ‘his father would hear about this’ Harry caught sight of the Slytherin girl rolling her eyes at the blonde, so quick he doubt anybody else saw.Meanwhile, Buckbeak had already turned away from the rude little pale thing and was eyeing Harry interestedly. Hippogriffs were very intelligent creatures, and his brain was whirring quite quickly. Half bird, he thought, referring to himself. Then he turned a big yellow eye to Harry. Also half-bird. I have son. Harry found himself being hauled over the fence by a beak grabbing hold of his robes, and he was very startled when he suddenly found that same beak snuffing at his hair, trying to put some order into it. Then the hippogriff was gently combing Harry’s wings with his beak, so all the fluff was pointing the same direction.“Hagrid?” he called, trying not to sound panicked. “What’s happening?”“He’s performin’ groomin’ rituals on yeh,” Hagrid explained. “The sort er ones mums and das do for their chicks. He must think yer his hatchling.”“Oh,” Harry exhaled. “Uh…”“His name’s Buckbeak,” Hagrid called out, and Harry turned towards the creature.“Listen, Buckbeak…” he began, but he didn’t get to finish, as the hippogriff was looking at him with wide, eager eyes and pushing a large hunk of raw meat towards him. Harry made a face.“Er, no thank you…” he declined politely. “I’m not very hungry.”Buckbeak cawed in apparent understanding and used his sharp beak to pull a large clump of grass out of the ground, offering it to his chick with the roots and dirt still attached.“Er, not really…” Harry shook his head apologetically. Buckbeak thought carefully. His son didn’t like meat, and he didn’t like grass, so he must like… Ah hah! Buckbeak pulled a carrot out of the trough where the meat rested, his expression triumphant and almost adorable as he presented it, sure this would be the food his little picky eater would like. Harry, realising he wasn’t going to give up, rinsed off the vegetable with an augmenti charm from his wand that came out just a little too strongly and took a bite, trying not to grimace as he thought about where it had been. The new dad cawed triumphantly, watching Harry with soft aquiline eyes until it was all gone.He picked up Harry by the robes again and held him out towards Hagrid proudly, as if saying look, big human! Look at my son! Harry’s face flushed in embarrassment as he realised that Malfoy and his goons were laughing at him, and even Pansy was chuckling madly, although with far less genuine malice. They really didn’t get to do too much actual learning that day, but Harry was relieved when they bell rang, turning to Buckbeak.“Er, I gotta go,” he told him. “I have classes and stuff…”Buckbeak tried to flatten his hair one last time before shoving him gently forward. He made a sound which roughly translated to go, my son, and learn the ways of the universe; I’ll be waiting with snacks when you come home!
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The rest of the day was slightly less weird; Trelawney predicted his death, Professor McGonagall turned into a cat, and Harry had to put up with a lot of good-natured ribbing about ‘wasn’t it ironic that he, a bird, had been adopted by a cat?’ Hagrid had asked him to please come down to his hut for a minute after dinner, where he’d found Buckbeak waiting for him, and what must have been all of the carrots in Hagrid’s garden piled up in what was clearly a newly-constructed nest, just Harry’s size. He’d then had to explain to the hippogriff that he, Harry, was the type of bird who slept inside the castle, and Buckbeak had nodded in apparent understanding as he gave Harry his blessing to leave. However, as soon as Harry had emerged from the showers, carefully patting his wings dry, he found Buckbeak sitting on his bed in a nest-like construction of blankets, nickering proudly. Harry didn’t really have the heart to tell him to leave, so with a sigh he just pulled out a book and climbed into bed next to the creature.He’d found out fairly quickly that whatever he had turned into did not require a lot of sleep, as he was usually awake for most of the night before catching an hour or two towards dawn and waking up refreshed, so he’d carefully read from one of his textbooks next to the slumbering hippogriff before eventually turning onto his belly (his new sleeping position, ever since he’d grown the wings) and curling up for his daily cat nap (and oh, there’s the irony again…)“Alright Buckbeak,” he told the eagle-horse, “you really gotta go back to Hagrid’s now.” Buckbeak nodded and flew out the open window.“You know he’s just gonna come back tonight?” Ron laughed, and Harry sighed.“Yeah, I know,” he responded. “Guess I’ll just get used to sharing my bed.” It wasn’t like he really needed it all that much anyway since he’d stopped needing a full eight hours, so he reminded himself that it could be worse as he went to get out of bed.And just then, it got worse. The weight of his wings on his back that Harry had slowly gotten used to over the last few days was suddenly heavier, and Harry nearly toppled backwards before, overcompensating, he tipped forward onto his front.“Ron!” he called, face in the carpet. “I think they grew!” His wings were flapping frantically as he tried to right himself, and his dorm mates were cackling wildly as the redhead came to help him up.“Here, take your potions,” he reminded Harry as his best friend wobbled tipsily as he tried to readjust his equilibrium. “Oh wow, they’re down to your mid-thigh now,” he remarked, getting a good look at the still-fluffy appendages sprouting from Harry’s shoulder blades.“They’re heavy,” Harry grunted, as he nearly tripped again. “I feel all clumsy and awkward.”“This is what you get for laughing at me when I went through that growth spurt last year,” Ron teased unsympathetically, and Harry glared at him crankily (and adorably, it couldn’t help but be noticed).“I was only chuckling a little bit,” he protested. “Hermione was the one nearly rolling on the floor!”“Whatever,” Ron rolled his eyes. “C’mon, let’s get to breakfast. Professor Lupin says we get to have our first DADA practical lesson today.”________When they got to Defence, there was a big, rattling wardrobe in the corner. Harry looked at the professor curiously, wondering what he had planned as he sat down and took out his textbooks. Lupin, for his part, felt his body sag in relief the moment Harry walked through the door. While he was always happy to see his cub, this was on a purely physical level; even when the wolf was quiet, Remus could still feel it there, connected to his magic and trying to feed off his energy. Ever since Harry had grown wings, Moony felt like the closest he’d ever felt to truly free of his lycanthropy was when his cub was close by.“Hey professor,” Harry greeted, coming closer to the wardrobe to examine it carefully as Remus felt the wolf stretch out languidly, the feeling almost pleasant for him. He was quite shocked; he’d never gotten along with it, but now it was just lying back like a well-behaved little puppy. He stepped back a couple of steps, making as if to grab something from his desk, and he felt the beast merely go neutral again. He picked up the book he pretended to need and stepped closer to Harry again, and the wolf reacted pleasantly, curling up in his chest almost affectionately as it basked in whatever it was about Harry’s presence that pleased it so. Remus had to admit that he found himself completely and totally nonplussed.“Professor?” Harry’s voice broke through his racing thoughts. “Are you alright? You’ve got a really weird look on your face.”“Oh, I’m sorry Harry,” Remus shook himself. “I was merely lost in thought. How are you today?”“They got bigger; it’s weird,” Harry told him, fluttering his wings for emphasis. A gentle breeze wafted through the immediate area, and Remus felt Moony stretch his nose towards it, rolling over on his belly and filling him with a deep sense of comfort and satisfaction.“They’re very lovely, though,” Remus forced his mind to stay in the present as he stretched a hand towards one of the wings, silently asking Harry’s permission. Harry stretched it out towards him, and as his fingers brushed the tip there was a jolt of electricity that ran from Harry’s wing down his fingers and then through his body like cool water. In the part of him where Moony resided, Remus felt almost like someone had flipped a switch the right way round as the wolf stretched out and gave a pleasant little howl that only he could hear. And then there was an odd sensation like the physical feeling of claws being pulled out of his core as Moony found whatever it was that he’d been looking for and stopped trying to control Remus, instead ceding authority completely to him. In a pulse that nearly knocked him breathless, his senses sharpened further. His senses had always been more developed than the average wizard’s, one of the few parts of his lycanthropy that he didn’t abhor, but now he could make out each miniscule crack in the wall, each thread on Harry’s robes, and every grain in the wood of the wardrobe holding the bogart with his eyes, sharper than they’d ever been. Even though the kitchen was nearly halfway across the castle, Remus could smell everything, from the blueberry pies the elves were bringing out of the oven to every clove of garlic in the pantry, and his ears picked up the rest of his class as they giggled and eagerly discussed the lesson from halfway down the hall. “Whoa,” Harry breathed. “Did you feel that?”“Yes, cub, yes I did,” Remus told him, still adjusting to this new reality. “And I think I have some idea of what went on, but I can’t explain right now. If you and your friends stay after class, I can talk to you then.” There was no point leaving Ron and Hermione out of this, as they’d been standing in the back of the room watching carefully, their eyes wide as they, too, had felt the throbbing cadence of magic that swept the room when Remus’ fingers had touched Harry’s wings.Speaking of his wings, they seemed very pleased with themselves, fluttering contentedly as Harry went to sit down next to Ron and Hermione and they all shared astonished looks. Harry could still feel the tingle of cool magic in the room, his wings sensitive to every fluctuation of whatever they had created. One of them brushed Ron’s side, but nothing out of the ordinary happened, merely a slight quiver of affection. Hermione was scribbling madly in her notebook, her dark hand a blur on the paper.She didn’t even stop writing when Professor Lupin asked them, still somewhat dazed, what a boggart was, and the rest of the class looked at her in confusion as Pansy Parkinson answered instead, nearly preening in satisfaction when she received five points for Slytherin for the correct answer. Ron glared at any non-Slytherin student who looked at Hermione in disappointment, refusing to accept any animosity towards his friend. She’d been there for him when Scabbers had disappeared over the weekend, even casting a spell over Crookshanks to see if he’d had something to do with it (he hadn’t- the spell showed no contact with any rat over the last twenty-four hours, the timeframe in which Scabbers disappeared). She was even thinking of ways to help him find his pet, despite the fact that they’d squabbled about her cat before. He wasn’t going to stand any disrespect towards her. Besides, if they didn’t want Pansy to win points for Slytherin, they should have answered themselves.“Yes, that is correct,” Lupin continued, pointing towards the rattling chest. “A boggart manifests as your worst fear, and the charm to combat it is…”“Riddikulus.” Hermione had finally stopped writing and raised her hand.“Yes, that is correct as well,” the professor praised as he awarded five points to Gryffindor. “The charm is not all, however. Since the best way to fight a boggart is laughter, you have to visually picture something that would make that fear seem funny or paltry. For example, Neville,” he called, turning to the boy, who blushed and looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. “What are you most afraid of?”“Professor Snape,” he mumbled, inaudible to anyone else but easily understandable to Remus with his better-than-ever hearing.“Ah yes,” he agreed, nodding stoically. “Professor Snape is rather scary, and I doubt very many of us would have the inner fortitude to go face our worst fear day in and day out like you do,” he pointed out. Neville perked up just a little, as if he had never considered this aspect of it, and some of the others in the class seemed to be looking at him with a new respect. After all, no matter what you are afraid of, the sensation of fear is still sickening, and the ability to face up against it should never be undervalued.“Tell me Neville,” he said, turning on his heel again and making a real performance of the thing, “What does your grandmother usually wear?”“Er, a long fur coat, and a big leather purse, and a hat with a vulture on it,” the Gryffindor answered. “But why…”“Well, I suppose Professor Snape would seem a lot less terrifying in something like that, now wouldn’t he?” Remus mused, his inner Marauder cackling at the thought of what he was about to do.“Well, I suppose most people would,” Neville agreed (his grandmother was the only one who could really make it look scary).“Alright, so when you cast the charm, you need to think about Snape, dressed like that,” Moony instructed, and Harry and Ron looked at each other and smiled widely- their new professor was dressing Snape in drag; how awesome was that?!When Snape not as he had been behaving recently but the Snape that they had always known and hated came out of the wardrobe, stalking towards Neville with his wand raised, the boy was shaking but ready.“R-riddikulus!” he stammered, and the potions professor took on his new vestments, looking very displeased indeed.“Excellent,” Remus commended. “Alright, who’s next?” he asked, turning to the class at large. “Harry, I’m going to ask that you not go today, as I can only imagine that having Vo- He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named show up in the classroom might be a bit too frightening for a first lesson."Harry nodded- he didn’t think his boggart would have been Voldemort, but he appreciated not having to have the whole class looking at him as Uncle Vernon bore down on him waving his belt around, even if it would be funny to see him turn into a walrus in a too-tight suit.Ron went next, and Harry and Hermione beamed proudly as the spider lost all its legs, rendering it quite useless. They watched as Seamus gave a banshee laryngitis, Parvati turned a cobra’s fangs into baby carrots, and Pansy just strode up to a large flashing sign with the word No! on it and blasted it into pieces.The problem was that by the time that they were ready to finish the boggart off, Remus had forgotten to consider that with Moony behaving thanks to Harry, he was no longer afraid of the full moon.He was therefore not prepared for a younger, cleaner, smiling Sirius Black to be standing in the room, looking at him in that way that used to make his knees go weak. He heard the screams of some of the pureblood students as they realized what was going on, but he wasn’t truly aware of them as the man that he thought was going to be his ‘til death do us part’ put a hand gently on his cheek, sending shivers down Remus’ spine.“Hello luv,” he whispered, in the same husky voice that made Moony’s stomach melt into a puddle of useless goo. His easy grin was as captivating as ever, and Remus knew he should end this, end this now, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to raise his arm.“Would you like to pick up where we left off?” Padfoot teased, leaning down to gently nip Remus’ jawline. He needed to stop, to raise his wand, to look him in the face and tell him this was over, but he was frozen, the same way prongs used to be when they would shine their wandlight in his eyes as a joke.The class was silent now, captivated, and Harry wondered what was going on and what they should do about it when Neville stepped forward, hands shaking.“Go away!” he yelled at the Sirius look-alike, as it turned towards him and changed back into Snape. “Get out of here!” He cast the riddikulus charm again, and Snape briefly became the world’s worst drag queen again before he burst into dust, the boggart gone. Their professor stood there, tears in his eyes, looking at the place where Sirius had been. No, he reminded himself, biting back a sob. Not Sirius; there will never be Sirius again. “Class dismissed,” he choked, and most of them left, all except for the golden trio. Harry stood there, wings flitting anxiously, his eyes glued to the pile of dust that had once been the boggart.“Professor?” he asked timidly. “Would you like to talk about it?”“Not really,” Remus answered, running a hand through his sandy, grey-peppered hair. “But I suppose I must.”He took a deep breath, sitting behind his desk. The others took the cue and hoisted themselves up on the table in front of it, Harry using his wings to gather momentum since he was too short to manage on his own. He lifted them a little higher so they wouldn’t brush the table before folding them in, waiting patiently with his two best friends to hear what he had to tell them.“Long ago, a good ten years before you all were born, there were four Gryffindors who did everything together. One of them was an outcast, with a terrible secret he was afraid they would discover. He was a werewolf, and every month he would give his new friends excuses as to why he hadn’t been there- there was a family emergency, he’d caught a cold, his mother was ill. Eventually, these excuses were no longer enough, and the other three discovered. Instead of casting the fourth friend out, however, they accepted him, doing everything they could to make full moons more comfortable…” he couldn’t quite bring himself to tell them about the animagus bit yet, he wasn’t sure why, but it didn’t really matter anyway, not right now. “They called themselves Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, and they were thick as thieves and often not too much better-behaved. Prongs fell in love with a girl, another Gryffindor like them, but she wanted nothing to do with him. But he kept trying, improving his behaviour and becoming a better person for her until one day, she asked him out. By the time the friends had graduated from Hogwarts, they were firmly in love. “Meanwhile, Moony and Padfoot were two great big idiots who couldn’t seem to communicate properly with each other, until one day Padfoot did something so monumentally stupid that it forced them to talk about their feelings. Come graduation, they were just as in love as Prongs and his flower, and things would have been perfect, if only there wasn’t a dark wizard trying to destroy everything they believed in. So even as Prongs and his flower got married, they were all forced to grow up too fast, to put their lives on the line for their cause. But they were young and free and sure of themselves, and they thought everything would somehow turn out alright. Until Prongs and his flower got pregnant despite doing everything they could to put it off until the war was over. But they had a baby and named Padfoot the godfather, so they had to go into hiding to keep their family safe. The dark wizard felt threatened by Prongs and his flower, so they had to perform a spell called the Fidelius Charm to keep themselves safe. Yes, Hermione?” Remus couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, amused, as the girl gasped. “Would you like to tell us what it is?”“The Fidelius charm is a powerful spell that relies on a secret keeper that has been chosen by the participants. Once the spell is performed, the secret is hidden so firmly that only the secret keeper can divulge the information, and he can only do it voluntarily. Not even torture can make him tell unless he chooses to,” she lectured them.“Very good,” the professor told her. “So they decided to perform the Fidelius charm, and Padfoot would be their secret keeper. They were so sure they were safe, but Padfoot had done something terrible; he had changed sides. He betrayed them, and the dark wizard came to kill them. Prongs and his flower gave their lives protecting the baby, and the dark wizard was defeated that night. Wormtail tried to confront Padfoot, but Padfoot killed him and the dozen muggles in the street. Padfoot went to Azkaban, Wormtail and Prongs were dead, and Moony was alone for twelve long years. His lycanthropy was hard on him, but eventually he got a job teaching at Hogwarts, where he once again met the child of his old friends. That child is special, a little boy with wings who just this morning finally freed Moony from the wolf that had tortured him for so long, turning it docile and allowing him to finally take control again. And Moony knew that he owed this boy the story.”There was silence, all-encompassing silence that felt heavy with the weight of old pain and new discoveries, before Harry eventually spoke.“Oh...” he said in a small voice. “Sirius Black was my godfather.”“And your boyfriend,” Hermione sighed.“And you were a werewolf,” Ron added, “but now you’re…”“A werewolf who has control of the wolf, I suppose,” Remus exhaled tiredly. “Although I suppose that isn’t even your biggest concern at the moment.”“I… I had a godfather,” Harry cried in a small, anguished voice. “And he… he be-betray…” he had to stop here, choking back a sob. “He betrayed us,” he finished, looking at Remus. “He betrayed all of us…”“I never even saw it coming,” Remus said, sounding so tired, tired enough for a hundred lifetimes. “He was my everything, and I didn’t even know who he was…”“You can’t blame yourself,” Hermione told him, her voice rational. “It sounded like nobody did, nobody in the world…”“If anyone could have, it would have been me,” Remus maintained vehemently. “But I hadn’t even a suspicion, and I will never forgive myself for that.”“Well, I forgive you,” Harry swore, his voice full of conviction as he put one small brown hand over Remus’ suntanned, tired one. “Is that enough?”“Oh cub,” Remus murmured, stepping forward and softly enveloping Harry in a hug. “It’s more than enough, but I should have been enough for you, and I wasn’t.” And then he was crying, crying like a child as he held Harry in his arms, rocking back and forth and wondering if things could ever be right again.
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The Golden Trio (as most of the school had taken to calling them, either fondly or derisively) was spending the weekend holed up in the library, poring through old, dusty tomes to try to find some clue as to what might have caused Harry’s creature transformation. Ron’s elbow was set against the table, his chin propped under his fist as his eyes roved lethargically over the dense, small text of the book he was reading.“Any luck?” Hermione asked the two of them, shutting another book in frustration.“Nope,” Harry remarked before sneezing as the light fluttering of his wings dislodged some dust from the shelves.“Well, I was thinking that maybe we should-” Hermione was about to say that maybe they should try a different section, but their attention was distracted by Harry’s rubbing up against the corner of one of the shelves, seemingly unaware that he was doing it.“Uh, mate?” Ron began tentatively. “What are you doing?”“Hmmm?” Harry asked, looking up at them, still rubbing his wings up and down against the wood, his face dazed as a pleased chirping noise warbled from the back of his throat.“Er, why are you… you know… humping the shelves?”“Oh…” Harry’s face suddenly reddened a bit as he realised what he was doing, but he didn’t stop. “Dunno… I just gotta.”“Aww,” Hermione cooed, coming up behind him and gently touching a wing with her finger. “I think your pin feathers are coming in!”“What’s that?” Harry asked, readjusting to rub a different part of his wings, near the top.“Pin feathers are sort of like your intermediary feathers- they’re little feather shafts that come in after your down, and then they slowly lengthen and develop to form your real feathers. The pin feather on a baby bird also has a large part of the blood supply from the wings flowing through it.”“Interesting,” Harry murmured. “Feels weird…” Fluffy down floated to the floor around them, and Hermione gently stroked one of the hollow tubes coming in at the wing tips.“Oh!” Harry gasped. “That tickles!” His wing nearly upset a number of books on the shelves as he jerked reflexively, and Madame Pince came to check on the source of the commotion. When she did, she found Harry sitting on the floor, surrounded by a small pile of fluffy down and with one wing bent towards his face as he curiously examined the tiny pin feathers that were at the moment only on the outer edges of the appendages.“I’d scold you,” she sighed, “but I raised parrots for years, and I know how itchy and uncomfortable it can be when your pin feathers are coming in.”“Mmhmm,” Harry shook his head shyly, his wings fluttering along with the movement.“Here,” she came up behind him, “this always helped with my birds.” She held a hand above his wing, making sure he was alright with her touching it before she continued, moving her fingers gently in a circular motion along the edges of the right one, where the down met the new developing feathers, and Harry let out a musical little “ooh!” as he sighed in pleasure.“That feels so nice,” he sighed, yawning as the librarian helped stimulate the blood flow in his wings. They gave the slightest little tired flap as his eyes drooped, and more fluff was dislodged beneath Madame Pince’s fingernails.“Come,” she told the other two, beckoning them over to watch her movements. “This is good for him, and it’s also very relaxing. Whenever you find him starting to rub up against a tree trunk or a piece of furniture, just gently rub his wings like I’m showing you now to help him along.”“Thank you,” Harry whispered drowsily as his eyes fluttered all the way closed.“Of course dear,” she murmured, finding herself endeared to the small, adorable teenager just like so many others. She turned to Ron and Hermione again.“Normally I don’t approve of sleeping in my library,” she told them, “but if you’d like to continue your research while he dozes for a bit, I suppose I could make an exception.”“Thank you ma’am,” Hermione replied primly as the librarian conjured a large pouf and gently lifted Harry to place him on it so he wouldn’t get a crick in his neck during his nap.“He’s so light you’d think his bones actually were hollow,” she murmured in dissatisfaction as she felt his weight. “I should certainly hope that Poppy has him on nutrient potions…”“She does,” Ron informed her, putting a heavy book carefully back on the shelf and reaching for another. “Ugh, I have absolutely no idea where to start with this…”“Neither do I, unfortunately,” the librarian sighed. “I’ve read quite a lot about magical creatures, but I’ve never seen anything like this- we might be look at something completely unprecedented.”“He’s Harry,” Hermione sighed fondly, pushing a loose bit of hair out of his eyes. “Of course we’re looking at something unprecedented.”________“Potter,” Snape sighed, carefully keeping his voice neutral as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The little winged teen looked up, eyes wide and startled as he faced the professor.“Yes sir?” he asked, his tone clearly anxious, his wings fluttering in response. Which brought Snape back to the original problem.“You’re shedding feathers into the cauldron behind you.” The man exhaled deeply, clearly trying his absolute best to conserve his patience.“Oh!” Harry gasped, jumping up from his stool and scattering more down. “Merlin, I’m sorry Seamus!” The Irish boy had been brewing with Dean behind him, and they were absorbed so deeply in conversation they hadn’t been paying any attention to their assignment.“It’s alright Potter,” their teacher said, cutting into Harry’s frantic flurry of apologies. “I suppose you cannot help your… whatever is happening, and if Thomas and Finnegan had been paying attention, this wouldn’t have been an issue. They can redo their potion in detention this evening.” Both Gryffindors grumbled under their breath as they pulled the cauldron off the heat, but Snape wasn’t paying attention, squatting down to examine a bit of the down.“I’ll stay after class to sweep it up,” Harry offered, eyeing the man warily. “There’s no need, Potter. I was merely examining their properties.” He himself suddenly looked a bit awkward as he cleared his throat. “Would you… would you mind greatly if I kept a few to examine their properties?”“Go ahead,” Harry shrugged. “I don’t need them anymore. Here- I’ve probably got quite a few more coming loose.” At these words, Ron jumped ahead, and Harry didn’t even need to ask, as his best friend was already gently rubbing his wings to help the fluff loosen, and he slumped in bliss like he always did when someone was helping the process along. More fluffy baby feathers drifted to the floor, raining down in fuzzy little clouds.“What’s happening here?” Padma, ever the curious Ravenclaw, had put her own potion on stasis and tiptoed forward, carefully stepping around their volatile teacher. “What are those?” She pointed to the edge of Harry’s left wing.“Those are his pin feathers,” Hermione explained. “They’re the start of his adult feathers.” More and more were slowly growing in, although they were almost as fluffy as the down. It wasn’t until they grew and lengthened that they would be smooth and sleek like a normal bird’s.“They’re still really cute, though,” Padma murmured, holding her fingers back from reaching out to touch them with some difficulty. “Hey!” Harry interjected indignantly, turning from where he’d just finished a round of stirring his and Ron’s potion to glare at the other Indian teen. “They are not!” They were, however, quite cute, as was the disgruntled pout of the thirteen-year-old boy connected to them.“Stop ogling Potter and go back to your potion, Ms. Patil,” Snape snapped at her, and Harry gave him a grateful look. The Slytherin squirmed; he hadn’t been doing it to make Potter feel more comfortable- he’d merely wanted everyone to go back to work. So why was the boy giving him a slight smile and looking at him with relief in his large green eyes, so like his mother’s but even bigger in his dark, half-starved little face? It was merely professional interest that had him deciding he ought to talk to Pomfrey about developing a stronger nutrient potion to give to him, he told himself. Yes, purely professional. He didn’t care for the little brat at all, no matter how endearingly innocent he looked with his fluffy white wings and his haphazard curls and his long eyelashes. He might be as cute as a tiny little puppy, but Severus Snape wasn’t affected by puppies, so he refused to feel any sort of protective instincts over Potter outside of those required by the promise he had made.“Bottle your assignments and leave them on my desk,” he ordered ten minutes later as the period came to a close, carefully examining one of the feathers. Perhaps if he could break down its properties, it would help him understand more of whatever was going on with Potter and maybe even allow for a way to glamour them, thus keeping him safer from the dark lord. Because he’d promised Lily, of course. No other reasons.The Weasley spawn put his and Potter’s potion on the desk and then nearly booked it out of the door, Harry and Hermione following at a more sedate pace. Harry was last to exit, wanting to let all his other classmates leave first, as it took him a moment to fold his wings in enough to fit through the narrow doorway of the potions classroom.“So, what do you want to do the rest of the day?” he asked his friends as they walked up the enchanted stairs.“We should go study down by the lake,” Hermione suggested, and Harry perked up at the idea, as did his wings (which were down to his knees now).“That sounds really nice,” he agreed, a wide smile on his face as he thought of lying on his stomach in the grass, his hair ruffling in the breeze as Ron and Hermione gently rubbed his wings (they seemed to like touching them as much as Harry currently liked having them rubbed, the texture pleasant against their fingers).As the walked past Myrtle’s bathroom, Harry nearly tripped over a loose stone, his wings flapping rapidly as he righted himself. The appendages were in a state of near-constant movement, actually, just like most people twitch their fingers or jiggle their knees, but the movements were sharper than usual as he kept from falling, and then there was a sharp flutter of surprise as a gush of water came flooding out.“Looks like Myrtle’s upset about something,” Hermione noted as the water swirled around their feet.“DAMN RIGHT I’M UPSET! WHO’S FLOODING MY BATHROOM?!” the ghost cried, coming out. “PEEVES, IF THAT’S YOU I SWEAR I’M GONNA- oh,” she muttered, her voice going back to its usual volume. “It’s just you three. Did you happen to see what might have caused the water surge? Someone’s been messing about just as I was settling down for a nice afternoon in my toilet, and I’m rather irate about it, honestly- I’m the only one who can flood this floor, thank you very much!” “We didn’t see anything, Myrt,” Ron told the ghost, “but we’ll definitely keep an eye out. It could have been just a normal overflow, though- sometimes that happens too.”“Not very often, not here, at least,” Myrtle huffed. “But I appreciate it. I suppose you three have things to do, then?” she asked, her expression wistful.“We were just going to go outside for a bit,” Harry responded. “But you’re welcome to join us if you wish.”Her translucent face lit up. “I’d love to! Nobody ever invites me places.”“Well, that’s too bad for them,” Harry declared. “Because I think you’re pretty awesome.”“Oh Harry, you’re going to make me blush,” the ghost girl said, her cheeks already glowing silver.“So, overhear any interesting conversations lately?” Ron teased gently, knowing the girl had a habit of sliding through walls or travelling up the pipes to look for good gossip.She sighed. “No, nothing- not too much going on around here, besides your wings and the Sirius Black thing, but nobody really has any new information on those, and even if they did I wouldn’t go spreading them around out of respect to you.” Harry blushed this time. “Aww, that’s really sweet of you Myrtle…”“Don’t mention it,” the ghost declared flippantly. “So, what are you guys studying for?”“Charms,” Ron answered. “We have a quiz on Friday.”“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “And it’s the first quiz of the year, so I’m kind of nervous…”“You’ve been spending too much time with Mione, mate- you were doing great in class, so you’re worrying for no reason,” Ron told him fondly, pulling him to his side and ruffling his hair.“Ron, stop!” Harry cried, as his best friend’s hands moved down to tickle his sensitive sides. “Stop what? This?” he asked, poking what he knew was a super-ticklish spot.“Ugh, you’re such a prat!” Harry declared, squealing with laughter. “Ron, I swear!”“Awww, is little Harry ticklish?”“I’m not little!” Harry gasped between giggles, batting at Ron with his wings as he tried to fend off the attack. By this point they had reached the shore, and the two boys fell in a heap on the grass as Hermione and Myrtle rolled shared an eye roll.“You’re so little,” Ron was teasing, using the extra foot he had on Harry to his advantage as he pinned him to the ground. “Just a tiny adorable little baby bird.”“You’re the worst!” Harry screeched, a smile on his face as his wings flapped rapidly, trying to work up enough momentum to push Ron off of him and gain the upper hand.“What’s with boys and their need to wrestle each other all the time?” Hermione sighed fondly (well, boys and Ginny, her mind amended, as the youngest Weasley could easily take Fred and George when she was trying).“What’s with the lake?” Myrtle asked, watching the water slosh madly, the tides moving as if they were in the middle of a storm even though they were experiencing a rare sunny afternoon.“That’s so… what on earth?” Hermione muttered. “That’s so strange…” Neither of the boys had noticed yet, so caught up in their roughhousing, and it wasn’t until a mermaid popped up, a scowl on her green-grey face and her hair clinging to her face like so much wet kelp and started hissing at them that they looked up.“Bird-boy need stop!” she yelled, and Harry looked up at her with his big soft eyes.“Stop what?” he asked. “Surely you can’t hear us playing from down there?”“No, but we can feel tiny creature wizard moving the tides,” she growled. “Like ten moons in one night, naughty thing.”“I… but I’m not doing anything…” Harry mumbled, suddenly noticing how the tides were moving. Since he’d stopped wrestling Ron they had calmed down some, but waves were still hitting the sand with wet slapping sounds.“Really?” she asked him, looking unimpressed. “Move wing.”Harry fluttered his right wing, and a geyser-like fountain came surging up in the middle of the lake before splashing back down when the wing moved back.“So Harry was the one who flooded my bathroom,” Myrtle whispered, watching the lake move. Since the teen could no more stop the involuntary quivering of his wings than he could his own breathing, the water kept moving.“Back to castle!” the mermaid ordered him sternly, so harry and his friends scampered away, Hermione jotting down a recounting of the experience in her leather notebook as they did so.“Geez Myrt, I guess it was my fault that your bathroom flooded; I’m sorry…” Harry stammered, looking lost. “I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on…”“It’s okay Harry; we’ll figure it out,” Hermione promised him. “We should go see Luna; I mean, she said something about you having the ‘moonsong’ around you, and then the mermaid compared you to the moon, and the moon does have an effect on the tides, so maybe that’s the key to figuring out this whole thing, maybe even what’s happening to you in general...”“I sure hope so,” the desi boy sighed. “We should probably tell Professor McGonagall too, and maybe she can fix Myrtle’s bathroom.”“The bathroom isn’t our biggest issue right now, Harry, don’t worry,” Myrtle reassured him, touched by how guilty he felt about disturbing her, even accidentally. She wasn’t used to such consideration in all the fifty years she’d been here as a ghost. She sure hoped things worked out for him. Myrtle had been around a long time, and she’d gathered a lot of wisdom as a result. And if there was one thing she knew for certain after all that time, it was that nobody deserved to be happy more than Harry did.
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Wings, Harry decided, were fucking annoying- besides the fact that they couldn’t be hidden (and thus everyone was staring at him even more than usual), or that he had to spell all his clothes to go around them (which meant no more borrowing Ron’s big, comfy Weasley sweaters), or even that his down was fucking everywhere as the wings shed to make room for his pin feathers, there was the reality that, far from making him feel more graceful or elegant, they were just fucking awkward. Exhibit A, he thought, exasperated, as his left wing knocked against the side of the doorframe of the potions classroom as he tried to enter. Parvati and Lavender, who were standing behind him and waiting to enter, gave him sympathetic smiles but couldn’t hold back a giggle or two despite their best efforts.Everyone knows that coordination is harder when you’re flustered. Coordination is even harder when you’re currently dealing with two entirely new appendages that you’ve had for less than a week as your least favorite professor is glancing at you with an unreadable expression. You might think that the fact that said professor had been strangely not-horrid to you as of late would make you feel less awkward around him, not more so, but you would be wrong. Harry could tell you all of this from first-hand experience.“Are you alright, Potter, or do we need to fetch someone?” Snape asked from the front of the room- were the man capable of such emotions, Harry might have said he almost sounded amused (although, if the infamous dungeon bat ever was to laugh, Harry supposed it would be at his expense).“I’m quite alright, Professor, just give me a moment,” he groused, feeling rather less than charitable at the moment. Ron scurried over from where he was setting up his and Harry’s workstation to help his best friend maneuver his unwieldy wing out of its awkward positioning.Finally through the door, Harry was just grateful that his brown skin didn’t blush very visibly, because Merlin knows his whole face felt hot. Then, feeling sudden horror as a thought struck, he craned his head around to look at the wings- it would be just his luck if his wings, white as they were, did somehow show a visible blush.They didn’t, thank Merlin and Morgana. Harry breathed a sigh of relief- having others unable to see when you blushed was one of the very few social advantages of being visibly South Asian in a post-colonial (and very much not post-racist) society. “Sorry for laughing back there, Harry,” Parvati said as she made her way to her own seat next to Lavender.“That’s alright, Par,” Harry replied. Then an idea struck him.“Pallavi Auntie knows a lot more about Indian magizoology than you and Padma, right?” he asked. Parvati and Padma’s mother was a lovely woman, and she’d sent him a beautiful kurta to congratulate him on his adoption. Apparently, the Patils had been fairly close to the Potters, as both families had roots in Jammu Kashmir. Pallavi and Diep Patil had even offered to take guardianship of Harry when it was made clear that all of the Potter’s contingency plans for their child’s guardianship had fallen through, but as with McGonagall’s protests, their petition failed due to Dumbledore’s insistence that he be raised with the Dursleys.“Yeah, ma might be able to help,” Parvati agreed, since she and Padma had already racked their brains trying to figure out if whatever magical animal had given Harry’s family the blessing had been one they might have known of. But Hinduism had many religious legends, and as many of them were recorded by muggles, sometimes they didn’t always match up perfectly with their magi-zoological equivalents (plus the fact that there were quite a lot of magical creatures in India, and even many wizards who spent their whole lives in India didn’t know them all. Also, Padma and Parvati weren’t always the best about paying attention during all services when their parents took them to the local mandir). “I’ll write to her, see if you can floo over to ours during the winter hols to have her take a look. And if she doesn’t know, we can send a letter to Mota Pappa and Moti Mummy in Gujarat. Moti Mummy is the most religious person I know, so she might be able to help too even though she’s a muggle. She also has a few Parsi friends, so if there’s nothing we can find on the Hindu side, maybe they’ll have something in their religious legends that can help.”“Thanks Parvati.” Harry was relieved that Padma and Parvati were so willing to help him with this, and with learning other aspects of this part of his culture that the Dursleys had robbed him of.Hermione inserted herself into the conversation as well.“We’re also trying to track down some of Harry’s dad’s mum’s relatives in Yucatan to see if maybe we could open a line of communication with them, but it’s been proving difficult to find any records. I worry that any that there might have been would have been in Godric’s cottage.”“The Potters had a manor though too- wouldn't there be more family records there?” Parvati asked.“I’ve never heard of a manor, though…” Harry responded doubtfully.“No, there definitely was one,” Parvati argued. “My parents have tonnes of pictures. All the Hindu wizarding families used to gather there on holidays, because it was way out in the countryside and we could openly use magic during the celebrations. Mum said that your dad had the most fun Diwali parties.”“Maybe there was a secret keeper for the manor too, since all the old wizarding families keep so many important records and artifacts in their ancestral estates?” Hermione suggested. “Maybe that’s why nobody told you about it, since nobody knows where it is right now?”Parvati shot Hermione an impressed look- the muggleborn had really learned quite a lot more about wizarding culture than even many purebloods knew nowadays.“And they wouldn’t have had the same secret keeper for both houses, since it’s common practice not to ever have one secret keeper holding more than one secret,” Ron interjected as he started the fire under his and Harry’s cauldron.“That’s a good point,” Parvati agreed. “You should check with the goblin in charge of your Gringotts vault, Harry. Oftentimes magical creatures know lots of things wizards don’t, because wizards don’t really think about them enough either to ask them things or to consider that maybe they have ways of finding things out that wizards don’t think to worry about when trying to hide their secrets.”“Thanks Parvati- I’ll send Griphook a letter as soon as I get a chance.” Harry was very glad he had such resourceful friends to help him with all of the new things going on in his life that felt so very overwhelming.“Enough chit-chat,” Snape scolded from the front of the room, looking up from the essay he was marking in angry red ink long enough to give their little group a glare that was considerably less potent than usual. The children found themselves rather surprised that it had taken this long for him to snap at them to shut up, but they couldn’t say they weren’t grateful.Potions class went by quite uneventfully after that, surprisingly enough. Harry’s feathers (thankfully) stayed out of the cauldrons that day, and soon the cheerful little group was headed to lunch.“Ma sent you Modur Pulav,” Padma declared at lunch, marching up from the Ravenclaw table. “She got the recipe from your dad- it was his favorite,” she informed him as she pressed the tiffin into his hand, the warming charms delightful against Harry’s hands in the drafty October air of the Great Hall. “She would have sent it to Parvati to give to you, but she probably felt she couldn’t trust her not to eat it herself!”“Hey!” Parvati protested as Harry dug his right hand into the sweet dessert rice with a delighted face after offering a taste to Hermione and Ron, who gracefully declined and told him to enjoy the treat. “I would never steal food from āpaṇuṁ Hari! Lakshmi knows he needs it desperately.”“I resent the implication that I’m too fragile to steal from, Parvati-didi!” he scowled, but Parvati merely smiled- what a good little bhai, learning Gujarati just for them! If Professor McGonagall hadn’t already snatched him up, she knew that her mother would have in a heartbeat. Even if his wings did shed all over the damn place.“I’m glad you so clearly like that; there’s more where that came from! Maata has been practicing her Kashmiri cooking so she could fatten you up,” Padma informed him.“Tell Pallavi auntie thank you for me,” Harry said with a wide smile, licking sweetened ghee off his fingers. “I mean, I’m gonna write her too, but if she hears it from you, then she’ll know I’m not just being polite by sending thank you notes.”“Don’t worry, Hari- nobody would ever accuse you of being polite,” Parvati replied impishly.What came next happened too quickly for the little Gryffindor to truly process. Really, Harry had only meant to get her a little bit wet with his playful augmenti charm in retaliation, so it was a surprise to him as much as anyone else when what was basically a geyser erupted from his wand, leaving Parvati (and everyone sitting beside her on the side where Hari’s wand had been aimed) soaked to the skin and looking quite dazed.“Oh, fuck,” Hari breathed. “Parvi, I am so sorry.”Parvati didn’t even glare at him for the nickname, although she did shake her wet braid so that some of the water he’d accidentally summoned splashed all over the front of his robes.“Pro tip, you arse,” she snapped, although without any real heat behind it. “Your magic is stupidly powerful to an astonishingly ludicrous extent. Do try to keep that in mind.”From their position on Harry’s other side, and (mostly) safely dry, Ron and Hermione were laughing, even as Hermione made rapid notes in her little leather-bound book.“You’re laughing,” Hari complained to his best friends. “I’ve nearly flooded the Great Hall and you’re laughing! Traitors, the lot of you.” He cast a lazy drying charm, causing the rest of the table to flinch back, but thankfully, this spell at least worked as intended, although it surprised the watching head table with its efficacy, having been cast without even an incantation and barely a half-hearted flick of the wrist. Flitwick would be cringing at the shoddy wand movement, if he wasn’t too busy being impressed by its results. The students, their clothing, and the previously-sopping floor were now dry as bone, although Parvati was looking at her braid with extreme dissatisfaction.“Really, Hari bhai,” she grumbled, tugging at her butterfly clip. “You of all people should know what happens to Indian hair when you cast a drying charm!”“Wait,” Harry sputtered, waving vaguely at the mop atop his own head, which had not been drying-charmed but looked no better for the lack of it, “is there like, a way to make our hair not be like this?”“I mean, maybe? James always did have trouble with it either way, according to ma. That’s what the sleekeazy’s was supposed to help with. Although, it never really did all that much for him- might as well just stick with almond or coconut oil and hope for the best.”“What?” Hari asked, his face adorably confused. “What would I need oil for?” His head and one wing were cocked to the side quizzically. “Oh my god,” Padma groaned, slapping a hand against her face. “Are you telling me nobody taught this boy how to care for his hair?!” She glared at Hari’s dorm-mates, particularly Dean.“Well, don’t look at me,” he protested. “I keep it short for a reason- mum spends at least eight hours a week on her hair, and I decided years ago that I don’t have that kind of time- besides, our hair isn’t even the same!”“It’s closer to his than anyone else in your pasty-white dorm.” Padma refused to be swayed by Dean’s protestations of hair care innocence.“And you’re telling me,” Hermione protested, also jumping in on Dean, “that you literally never oil your hair at all? It doesn’t matter how short it is, don’t you want it to be healthy?” She might not be the most on top of her hair care routine in the world, but she at least kept to wash day religiously and kept her scalp properly hydrated!“I thought we were making fun of Harry’s hair.” Dean’s voice was despondent as he self-consciously ran a hand over his scalp.“Of course,” Parvati agreed decisively, now running her hand through the wild waves that she’d freed from her ruined braids, trying to put some order back into her hair through sheer force of will. “I’ll have ma send you some hair oil, and Hermione and I can help show you how to at least not look quite so much like a ragamuffin.” Harry did not look cheered by the pronouncement, his new pin feathers puffing out indignantly.“I have more important things to do than be styled like a little doll,” he protested. “Yeah, like fending off Buckbeak’s insistent mothering,” Ron teased, not seeming put out at all when he got smacked with a wing in response.“This is bullying!” Hari wailed dramatically. “Simply inhumane!”“Well then,” Hermione said, standing up after having neatly placed all their lunch dishes on top of the plates to make things easier for the house elves. “It’s a good thing that you’re not fully human anymore, now isn’t it, luv?” She kissed the head of messy curls that had led to the whole conversation. “Now come on, back to the common room. We’ve got a free period, and I’ve got an extra comb.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
There are exactly three things that
everyone
in Hogwarts knows about Ronald Bilius Weasley, in ascending order of importance.
He is the sixth son. Not particularly interesting in its own right, to be sure, but it doesn’t stop there. His father, you see, was also the sixth son, and his mother was the third daughter. Threes and six, you see, are very important and significant numbers in arithmancy. Supposedly, three and six together make very powerful magic, especially in another six. Which brings us to point the second.
Point the second- Ronald Bilius Weasley was a powerful enough wizard to have not only passed his classes with a secondhand wand first year, but to have passed them with a secondhand and broken wand his second. And it wasn’t just his magic that was powerful, oh no- he’d be dangerous enough, if that were the long and short of it. But it’s only the short of it, you see. The long of it, metaphorically speaking, is that Ronald Weasley has a brilliant strategic mind. Should have been a Slytherin, really, Blaise Zabini whispered to the others in the common room, the one and only time he’d played the Gryffindor in chess (and been soundly trounced, mind you). And maybe he would have been, if Harry had been put in Slytherin like the hat had originally intended. Well, scratch that- he definitely would have been. The sixth Weasley son would have gone anywhere Harry did, even hours after meeting the kid. Which brings us to the final- and most significant- fact that others knew about Ronald Bilius Weasley.
Ronald Bilius Weasley was fiercely, intensely, and rabidly protective of one Harry James Potter, to an extent that some others viewed as neurotic and almost problematic, really (these ‘others’ were the people who would have preferred Harry not be so fiercely protected). One could not so much as look at Harry wrong, or even think a single less-than-charitable thought in his general direction, if one wished to stay on the right side of one Ronald Bilius Weasley. Furthermore, he was also best friends with Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age. The brightest witch of her age who, it needs to be stated, could conjure fire in a jam jar since the first year of school. When you combine this with Ronald’s strategic mind, and his knowledge of the muggle post as a result of his fathers job, well… let’s just say that when Petunia Dursley opened what she thought was a box of artisan jams as a ‘thank you’ for knitting the most blankets for the church charity drive (which she did not- she made Harry do all that)...
Suffice it to say that Ronald (who
also
had somewhat of the twins’ eye for a good business venture) thought that “arson-berry jam” had a nice ring to it. Unlike the ceaseless ringing of the fire alarm, which hadn’t been enough to save the Dursleys’ house.
Pity.
___
Ronald Bilius Weasley was the sixth son- he was used to being fairly easy-going. One had to be, as a middle child in a big family. So he really only had a few non-negotiable, hard-line stances in life. Well, three, really, in ascending order of importance.
Sunday roast was delicious any day of the week. Restricting food to a specific time or day seemed silly to Ronald. Time was an illusion, after all, and food was very much not. So yes, Sunday roast- not just for Sundays!
The Chudley Cannons were the best quidditch team- sure, they hadn’t won a game in longer than he’d been alive, or even during most of the time that his father had been alive. But they were still the best- so there.
And, far above the importance of those other two unalienable and immovable truths in the life of Ron Weasley- Harry Potter was his very best friend, who he would do anything for, and who he loved with a ferocity that made his chest ache and his magic feel too big for his body. There was nothing that he wouldn’t do for Harry, up to and including arson (which is only a felony if they catch you, and they won’t- he and Hermione had seen to that well enough).
The lengths he would go for Harry stretched
far
beyond the boundaries of arson, however- he’d lay down his own
life
for Harry if it came to that, so the mutilation of his wardrobe so that Harry could once again borrow his Weasley sweaters while Harry was at a checkup with Pomphrey and couldn’t stop him did not seem so big a thing at all.
Until, of course, they started unraveling from the holes he’d made, the holes that were
supposed
to be just enough for Harry’s wings to fit through, but were now rapidly expanding into a mess of ladders and curly, tangled yarn.
“Hermione!”
he bellowed, loud enough for her to hear from her own dorm, across the staircase.
The dorms, luckily, sensed that Ron’s Weasley sweaters were in far too delicate a state to be moved in their current condition, and allowed the girl access to the boys’ third year dormitory.
“Oh Ronald,” she shook her head, tutting in disapproval at his lack of knitting anatomy knowledge. “You can’t just
cut
wool- you have to felt it first, or it’ll just do…
that.”
Luckily, it was easily fixed with a few basic house spells- one to re-knit the yarns back into stitches, and another to felt the wool at the slashes Ron had made.
“Oh,” Ron scratched his neck, bright red- and Hermione would never envy white people their obvious blushes, she could tell you
that
right now- “Thanks, ‘Mione.” He had already stored the spells away in his brain for later.
“You know that these are going to look stupid when
you
wear them, right?” Hermione asked, in lieu of acknowledging his gratitude.
Ron shrugged. “Yeah, I know,” he agreed. “But I can tell by Harry’s face that he misses borrowing my clothes, so it doesn’t really matter.”
Hermione couldn’t disagree with that- Harry was their little angel, even before he’d sprouted the wings. Yes, he was their best friend, but he was also theirs to protect, since nobody had ever done that for him before, and he seemed to think that it was
his
job to protect everybody else (
a notion,
Hermione mused angrily,
that certain Headmasters have not done
nearly
enough to disabuse him of.
She knew quite well who’d given her that book on Nicholas Flamel, that first year, and hindsight had told her well enough that they’d just been pieces on a chessboard. Dumbledore seemed to think that Harry was the queen of the board, who could do anything and put himself in all kinds of danger, while the old man himself sat safely in the king’s slot).
“You know,” she told Ron, tearing her thoughts away from Dumbledore with some difficulty, “why you’re really doing this, don’t you?”
“Uh, yeah- because Harry’s finally healthy enough to rejoin quidditch practices, and he’ll need warmer clothes,” Ron said, but he was squirming under the intensity of her gaze.
“No, you’re doing this because you’re nervous about Sirius Black, and you need a new outlet for your nervous energy, since you finally ran out of protection charms to put around Harry’s bed.”
“Well, I’m sure there are more, but I can’t get anyone to sign me a permission form for the restricted section of the library,” Ron sulked.
“Ronald, you’re going fully Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione told him gently. “Thirteen is too young to turn into your mother. Why don’t we go for a walk to the kitchens, hmm? We can bring Harry a treacle tart for when he gets out of his appointment.”
“Well, I guess, if it’s for Harry…” Ronald put down the next sweater. “I could always finish this later.” “Yes, good job, Ron. It’s not healthy for you to be worrying all the time, even if there is a madman on the loose. Now come on, I bet the elves even have some leftover Sunday roast set aside for you.”
“‘Mione, you know I hate it when you call it that.”
“Fine,” Hermione sighed deeply, wondering why on earth she’d picked two
boys
to be her best friends in the whole world, “I bet the elves have saved you some ‘time is an illusion, eat it any day of the week’ roast.”
“That’s better, thank you.” Ron’s smile lit up the room as they headed towards the kitchens. They would have a snack, and then they would pick up Harry. And in Ron’s opinion, as long as they had Harry, all was right with the world. Always.
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Things that were very easy for one Hari James Puttar: Flying on a broom.Things that were slightly less easy for one Hari James Puttar: Flying on a broom with wings.“Ugh!” He groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation as he repeatedly released and re-caught the snitch in his hand before it could get more than a few inches away. “The damn things won’t stop fucking moving! It’s really throwing off my rhythm.” He motioned exasperatedly to the wings, hanging on either side of the broom and fluttering excitedly.“Really?” Katie looked at him dubiously. “Because you just combined a triple barrel roll with a Wronski feint, and you caught the snitch with your foot in the middle of it.”“Okay, yeah,” Harry conceded. “But it was like, not as easy as it would have been before. They are not very aerodynamic.”“Your… wings… aren’t… aerodynamic…” Angelina’s disbelieving look made Harry groan all over again. “Ugh, that’s not… you know what I… they’re not aerodynamic on the broom, bëní!” Angelina’s heart stuttered at the cuteness of it, and how he’d called her sister in his father’s native language without realizing it (she knew, because that’s what Padma and Parvati called each other when they were talking in Kashmiri. It was “Didi” or “Ben” when they spoke Gujarati, and “bëní!” in Kashmiri).“Whatever you say, little songbird,” she teased, in lieu of bringing it up.“I am not a little songbird!” Hari huffed, making an indignant little chirp that didn’t exactly help his argument.“Girls, stop teasing our best asset!” Oliver scolded, on cloud nine after watching Harry’s incredible flying skills, which, despite his assertions, seemed not at all damaged by the two new fluffy appendages sprouting from his back.“He’s not an asset, Oliver! He’s our sweet baby brother- don’t talk about him like he’s an asset,” Katie snipped. Wood had the decency to look chastised. He’d been getting a lot of flack from the rest of his team when it came to Harry- first with the “get the snitch or die trying!” thing last year and then for his reaction to Harry’s wings, and then to the fact that he’d had to take a few weeks off of quidditch to recover from some unspecified health issue he’d had over the summer. His team was very protective of their little seeker, and it was a good reminder for him. As much as Oliver loved quidditch, he also cared deeply about Hari, and he needed to put him first. “You’re right, of course. Harry, I’m sorry.”“Huh? About what?” Harry hadn’t been paying a lick of attention to whatever the rest of his team was talking about, too busy doing lazy loop-de-loops, relishing the feeling of being up in the air again. “Don’t worry about it, little bro,” George laughed, gleefully redirecting a bludger that was circling nearby, sending it just a bit too close to Oliver’s ear for comfort.“Whatever,” Harry shrugged, picking a bit of lint off of the sleeve of the Weasley sweater he was wearing. It was the one Ron had gotten for Christmas when they were eleven, and it was one of Harry’s favorites. It smelled like Ron’s magic and the wool Mrs. Weasley had used that year was especially soft, and it was just big enough on him that it was cozy but didn’t let any of the cold air in through the sleeves the way Ron’s newer ones did when Harry wore them. Honestly, he wasn’t exactly psyched that his best friend had mutilated his wardrobe just so he could wear his clothes again, but he was touched by the gesture. And currently putting into action his own secret plans to get the other boy some very nice new pieces from Gladrags and Madame Malkins via owl order.While Hari was usually the one who was always quickest to get cold (largely due to his non-existent body fat and the fact that he had been, and to an extent still was, quite malnourished since being dropped at the Dursleys’ doorstep), oddly enough, it was the rest of his team that was shivering now.“Guys? What’s going on?” He asked them, as their faces suddenly fell.“Dementors,” Fred managed to wrench through his chattering teeth. “They were supposed to stay on the edges of the grounds. Harry, run- they’re going to go to you faster than anyone.” He could read between the lines well enough to know that Harry had more bad memories for them to feed on than the rest of them put together, even if his honorary little brother hadn’t actually told them that much. It was obvious by the bars on his window at the Dursleys’, and the way that Ron’s protectiveness this year had increased ten-fold, not that he and his twin had even realized that it would have been possible for their youngest biological brother to be even more vigilant over their adopted brother than he already was.“Huh?” Harry asked, cocking his head, his wings fluttering quizzically. “I feel fine.” He looked up, suddenly realizing that the robed creatures were creeping towards his team, although he didn’t feel the cold that he had heard was supposed to come with them. He didn’t feel any different at all, really, except that he was now worried for his team. He angled his broom downwards, towards the dementor currently sweeping towards their captain.“Harry, no!” George protested, but against his expectations, the dementor did not redirect its attention towards the winged boy. Instead, it fled backwards, shielding its hooded face. Shielded its face because Harry was… glowing? The small group of about four or five dementors swept away from the pitch, back towards the forest, and Harry’s team members, almost unconsciously, huddled towards the light and warmth that his wings were radiating.“Harry, do your… holy shit, I think your wings repel dementors!” Angelina let out an astonished laugh.“Well, at least they’re making themselves useful,” Harry huffed. “It’s about damn time!” Still, the appendages puffed up, betraying his pride at helping his teammates.____________ “The dementors did WHAT?!” Ron demanded, upon hearing the story at dinner. Honestly, Hermione swore that Harry would be fine at practice, and that it was more important that Ron stay in to get his potions essay done, and just look at what happened.“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!” Ron demanded, marching right up to the head table, dimly noting that he hadn’t even realized he’d known all the man’s names. “You told us that the dementors were here to keep Harry safe from Sirius Black, but then he almost got killed today!” he accused, staring accusingly into the man’s eyes (currently devoid of irritating twinkle). “Oh, and also Fred and George,” he added, almost as an afterthought.“Good to know where we stand,” Fred whispered to George (but both of them did have eyes twinkling with mirth, settling in to watch what promised to be a good show).“Ron, I’m fine!” Harry protested, face burning with embarrassment that, while not showing through his skin tone, was definitely audible in his voice.“Well, you very well couldn’t have been!” Ron called back, still staring daggers at Dumbledore. “And you, Dumbledore- I hope you have a damn good explanation for this! Because believe you me, my mum will be hearing about this!” A howler from Mrs. Weasley was not a threat that one tossed about lightly. “Oh Merlin,” Harry groaned into his hands. “Now he sounds like Malfoy.”“Oh Hush, Hari bhai, we’re trying to enjoy the show,” Parvati scolded him mildly. Dumbledore, for his part, did not seem to know quite what to do with the very angry third year staring him down. “My deepest apologies, young Ronald,” he replied gravely. “It was my understanding that the dementors would stay where they were placed by the ministry.”“Don’t you try to deflect responsibility!” Ron rebuked. “This is your school! And while we’re at it, why on earth haven’t you been doing a better job at protecting it?! Not only this year, but last year, when students were getting petrified, and my best friend almost got killed by a basilisk, and my other best friend was petrified! And then the year before that, when our bloody defense teacher was possessed by Voldemort!” The tables burst into loud chatter- it seemed like there was quite a bit that they didn’t know about what had been going on right under their noses the past two years. Even Minerva, who knew a bit about the stone (largely due to her own failure in taking the three’s concerns seriously), hadn’t known the whole story with the events of last year, and her child down in the chamber defeating a basilisk! She’d only known something about a diary, and a dark possession with the youngest Weasley.Ron, for his part, was just getting started. “I mean, what are you even doing, if every threat to the school you’re in charge of is being handled by a thirteen-year-old?!” he motioned wildly to Harry. “And look, I’ve been keeping my mouth shut about it, because I was just glad Harry was okay, and frankly, it was a lot to process. But like, this was quidditch practice, for Merlin’s sake! It’s not some wildly-unprecedented threat to the school that nobody could have predicted, and there’s no possessed defense teacher, and no crazy secret chamber full of monsters! It was just quidditch practice- and you can’t even keep the bloody dementors out of it?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” “Mr. Weasley,” Professor McGonagall eventually spoke up, but her tone was gentle, and her eyes soft and sad “I think that’s quite enough for now. You’ve given us quite a lot to think about, and you make a number of good points, but I do think it’s time that you finish your dinner, and rest assured that your concerns will be addressed promptly.” She shot a venomous look at Dumbledore, promising retribution for all that she’d the secrets that she’d been kept out of concerning the students under her care.“Well, alright,” Ron deflated slightly, although his posture was still bristling with indignation. “But I do hope that someone has the good sense to let me sign that book of protective charms out of the restricted section now.” He pulled a folded paper out of the pocket of his robes and set it on the table, a challenge in the tight line of his jaw.Wordlessly, Snape of all people pulled out a quill and scrawled his signature at the bottom, not breaking eye contact with the youngest Weasley son. Ron gave a tight nod and put the paper back in his pocket before turning back to the table, his steps tense and measured.“What on earth was that?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence at the table as he sat down, and he finally sagged, like a puppet with his strings cut.“I think,” Ron replied, suddenly exhausted, “that that was something I’d been wanting to get off my chest for quite some time now. I didn’t realize what I was doing until I was doing it, but Merlin, it is kinda fucked up, isn’t it? I mean, we’re kids. Where was literally any adult the past two years? Why does Harry have to do everything?! It’s not fair! Wasn’t it enough that he saved the wizarding world once?! School’s already hard enough, without constantly worrying that it’s gonna murder us!”Harry wrapped a wing comfortingly around his brother. “It’s okay, Ron. I’m fine. We’re all fine. And the dementors didn’t get me.”“Yeah, this time,” wet blue eyes met green, and the others around them felt suddenly ashamed, like they were witnessing a very private moment.“C’mon, let’s head to the dorms,” Harry soothed, getting up and guiding Ron out, ignoring all the stares on him. Honestly, he supposed he should have expected it sooner. Harry was used to having adults fail him, but Ron had grown up loved, and Ron had grown up safe. Sure, he definitely didn’t get as much attention as he should have, sometimes, and he had his own insecurities about whether he could ever live up to his older brothers, but in general, he was always able to trust that he had a roof over his head, food in his belly, and parents who loved him and would protect him from harm. It was only natural that he would expect the same thing from his teachers- he had a right to. Harry had never really expected anything from adults- what he’d received already in terms of McGonagall’s affections, Pomphrey’s determined attempts to get him in better health, and Snape’s strange new… decency (?) was already more than he’d have ever thought or predicted. But seeing things through Ron’s eyes… Harry suddenly got it in a way that he really didn’t before. Of course, Ron’s endless empathy and extreme love for Harry would cause him to be angry at the level of inaction from adults, because if even half of what had happened to Harry had happened to Ron, well… Harry would be furious. “Oh…” Harry muttered. “We… we really did deserve better, didn’t we? That… I shouldn’t have almost died at school. Twice. ” “Twice is a rather generous underestimation,” Ron snorted derisively, then gave a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.“Well, I’m here now, and you’re here, and I think you’ve well shamed Dumbledore into doing his job now,” Harry laughed, guiding them both into his bed. Ron wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, and Harry wrapped his wings around Ron. Ron buried his face into Harry’s chest, and the back of his mind viciously reminded him that even if Dumbledore did start doing his job now, Harry’s chest was still too thin, and whose fault was that? “And hey,” Harry continued. “We’ve definitely given the rumor mill something entirely new to work with.” This did draw a chuckle out of Ron.“Sorry I embarrassed you,” he muttered into Harry’s (his) jumper (their jumper). “Oh Ron,” Harry chuckled. “You didn’t embarrass me.” At Ron’s disbelieving look, he smiled sheepishly. “Well, maybe a little,” he amended. “But I think you really needed that. And I think I kinda needed it to, to be honest. It’s hard for me to remember, after everything, that I’m… worth something, I guess?” At this, Ron let out another broken sob, but Harry kept going. “But like, since day one, you’ve been the person that was there to remind me that I am. And you were the first person that I can ever remember loving me, and standing up for me. YOu cared about me as Harry and not just Harry Potter. And even if that means you’re acting like your mum and yelling at the headmaster in front of the entire school, then I wouldn’t change it for anything.”Ron burrowed deeper into Harry’s embrace, bringing one hand up to card through his messy curls. Reassured by the fact that his best friend was living and breathing and here, he eventually fell asleep, and Harry just wandlessly summoned the transfiguration textbook to look over for the night, until dawn got closer and he could get his usual couple hours.Eventually, Hermione came and crawled in next to them (and Harry didn’t know how or why the boys’ dorms let her in, but then again, Hermione always did have a way of getting where she wanted to be, and Harry didn’t think that anything, not even a 1000-year-old (semi-sentient???) magic castle could stop her if she was determined enough to get somewhere. And Hermione was always determined to be with her boys. Buckbeak followed shortly thereafter, and while Harry’s bed was crowded, and he had a cramp in his wing from staying in one place for so long, he felt safer and happier than he had in a long time. And when the morning came, the light shone down upon one hippogriff, his adopted son, and the two other children, the three of whom loved each other more than anything else in the world, curled up and sleeping soundly. And while they had been failed by others, they would never fail each other. Three hearts beating in sync, three lines of fate tied together, shared magic pulsing under their skin like a promise.It was enough- they were enough. Always.
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Dumbledore sighed, twinkle in his eyes very much absent as he rubbed his temples, thinking about the remonstrance his deputy headmistress had just given him. She seemed to think him a fool, incapable of protecting his students. And it irked him to allow her to think that, but one must make sacrifices for the greater good, after all. He couldn’t exactly defend his intelligence by telling her that putting young Harry in danger was very much by design, after all.It wasn’t even something he was proud of, really- he also didn’t want himself to be doing what he was doing. If it was up to him, Harry would have grown up loved and protected, and Albus himself wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of knowing that he was going against James and Lily’s expressed last wishes by placing him with the Dursleys. But needs must, and it had been obvious from day one that Voldemort would eventually come back, so he left the unopened will in the main Potter vault at Gringotts. Harry would be able to access it when he came of age, but by then it would really be of no consequence- it was an unfortunate fact of war that the boy wouldn’t live for very long after reaching his majority, if even unto then.And it wasn’t an easy resolution for Albus to come to, by any means- but he was making sacrifices, you see! It would be far better, he thought, to be entirely ignorant of the thing, like young Harry. And sure, the child had certainly had had a more… unpleasant… childhood pre-Hogwarts than Dumbledore had wished, but under the circumstances, it was better than the alternative, which was him growing up in a stable environment with a loving family, and then perhaps being prevented from (or even entirely unwilling to) offer himself as an eventual sacrifice to ensure the continued survival of the wizarding world. Of course, at this rate, the child wouldn’t have even survived the muggles’ abuse long enough to fulfill his most unfortunate (but necessary- ever so necessary!) purpose, so that was a most unfortunate oversight on his part. But far better that he’d been sent back with protection charms, instead of… well, with her limited view of the situation, Albus had to admit that Minerva had made the right choice, the moral choice, in going under his nose to adopt Harry, but it certainly would complicate achieving the greater good. Minerva, strong as she was, was simply too soft for the greater good- she’d certainly want to save her child, even if it meant leaving Voldemort alive! She would have wanted it before adopting Harry, but doubly so now! And that was simply unacceptable- Albus had yet to figure out how he would work around such a thing. Once, he could have counted on Severus, but the younger man had been seemingly growing softer towards Harry on his own, as of late. Most unfortunate, certainly. Merlin knows that the promise he’d made to Lily to protect the child had already made him a compromised asset in securing the greater good. It truly did pain Albus- he bore as great a burden as any in the war against darkness, what with having to arrange all these unpleasant details. But, well… sometimes great men can’t always be good men. It would be truly selfish of him to be a good man for Harry, what with the sacrifice it would involve on behalf of the entire wizarding world. Harry was simply the only one who could defeat Voldemort, and due to the unfortunate horcrux, he would have to die to do it. Sad, indeed, but such is life. And the boy was certainly having a fun time at Hogwarts, at least, Dumbledore consoled himself. Well, except for all the near-death experiences, but we’ve got to train him somehow. A regular Hogwarts education simply wouldn’t suffice to prepare him to banish the dark lord. And it’s not like I bodily shove him into such situations! I just… arrange it so that, should there be a danger to the school, Harry is equipped to handle it. But now, the unfortunate side effect was that, thanks to young Ronald’s not-inaccurate outburst, the rest of his staff now thought him a dithering idiot. Or, perhaps, in the case of Severus, who unfortunately knew Albus better , a cruel and manipulative chessmaster (he’d seen it in the young man’s eyes when he looked at him, laden with suspicion, since the start of the year, and doubly so after young Ronald’s outburst at dinner). And while what Albus was doing could be viewed as manipulative, under a certain lens, surely nobody could call it cruel if they had all the facts, and knew what it meant for the greater good. This was simply beyond questioning. Which was, of course, why he could tell no-one else about it.Just then, a crystal on the shelf closest to Fawkes’ empty cage pulsed, alerting him to a powerful pulse of magic in the Gryffindor dorms. Oh dear, Albus mused, examining it more closely. A magical vow. Well, that simply had to be looked into.He disillusioned himself, heading straight to the third year boys’ dormitory. He was under no illusions that the pulse could have come from anywhere else, or anyone else. However, he still blanched when he got to the dorm, saw the three young ones asleep in Harry’s bed, resting under the soft light of Harry’s glowing wings (and wasn’t that interesting in its own right) and cast a few silent information-gathering charms. This was old magic, and certainly nothing that they could have performed on purpose. This was the sort of thing that they wouldn’t find in any books they could get their little hands on, even in the restricted section.The children had formed a three-way soul bond. With nothing but their love for each other and the promises it held between them, they’d bound their fate lines together. More than that, they’d bound their lifelines together. A soul bond was just that- two or more souls bound together in one life force. They would be stronger together, and they could now share magic and strength with each other should one of them be flagging in either. It made them much stronger, and harder to kill. But when they did die- as all must, eventually- they would all die, at the same moment. What they’d done was essentially both the equal and opposite of creating a horcrux- light magic, where instead of killing to split a soul, a willingness to do anything for each other (including to die) had created one stronger, greater soul made up of the all of the individual souls of those who created the bond. There were a few- very few- wizards who had made such a bond in eons past, before such magic was lost (not exactly forbidden, but rendered uncommon enough that it was easy to bury what did exist because, due simply to the extreme devotion it required, it almost never happened in the first place). And they had all been extremely powerful, living long, contented lives full of great feats before dying of old age in the very same second of the very same minute of the very same day. There were four of them, and they’d created Hogwarts. And while they’d argued- over the admittance of muggleborns, mainly, as Salazar Slythering thought it too dangerous for both the the muggleborns themselves and the wizarding world at large if young muggleborns were to be exposed to the knowledge of magic but then have seven years between the knowledge of it and actually being strong enough to protect themselves from the witch hunts with it- they’d never actually split off like the histories suggested. Godric and Salazar, Merlin bless them, were both stubborn bastards, so there had been a few years, but in the end… nevermind their lovers’ spats, though. The point was, they were the most famous- and last- known soulbond, and Albus was fairly certain that he was the only person still alive who actually knew the true nature of the relationships that bound them together. The magic it left behind was what made Hogwarts such a powerful place. And now, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger had inadvertently bound themselves together in the first soul bond in over a thousand years. Merlin knows that Harry’s staggering magical ability alone would have made this a formidably powerful bond (staggering, mind you, before he up and sprouted wings and whatever strange and awe-inspiring powers had come with them, which Albus was still trying to gather the full measure of on his own, since Poppy and Minerva were actively conspiring to keep such information away from him). But it’s not as if he was bound with two duffers, either- although it still would have been a problem for Albus’ plans even if that were the case. But it certainly wasn’t. He was bound up with the brightest witch of their generation (who had quite a bit of power at her own disposal). Again, that would have thrown quite a wrench in things, if it had been just the two of them. But no, the two of them had gone and bound their fate lines with that of the most magically powerful of the Weasleys and Pruitts that Albus had seen in all his years at Hogwarts (again, not exactly families that produced magical slackers, even among their most average progeny). And the boy was brilliant to boot, and protective as a mother dragon. And now they all had to die for the greater good, by nature of the magical bond they’d unknowingly bound themselves in. Albus had to admit that he hadn’t seen that coming. In retrospect, he supposed he should have kept a better eye on it, but it’s not as if anyone could have predicted three teenagers having the emotional maturity or capacity to form such bonds, even if they did seem far more devoted to each other than any friends he’d ever seen. He truly regretted that this meant more lives would have to be sacrificed for the greater good. Sure, it had been a possibility, before, that the two would have died trying to protect Harry as he fulfilled his destiny, but now it was a certainty, and it was certainly regrettable. It wasn’t as if Albus liked having to raise up child sacrifices like hogs for slaughter! It was merely an unfortunate side effect of saving the wizarding world. Well, Albus consoled himself, at least they couldn’t have formed this unwittingly. Unknowingly, certainly, but unwittingly, no. The intent to live and die for each other, and to consider each other as bound together for life, had to be there already, or this never would have happened. A different man might have used this as an opportunity to second-guess himself, and to consider that single-handedly deciding that a child had to die based only on a glowing orb and their own conclusions about what had happened that night in Godric’s hollow- an event that the man drawing the conclusions hadn’t even witnessed- had perhaps been a bit hasty and unwise, and that now would be a good time to consider possible alternatives. Albus Dumbledore, rest (rather disconcertingly) assured, was no such man.____________Minerva McGonagall was sitting with the rest of the Hogwarts staff in her own office that night, formulating plans of her own (although, with far better intentions in mind concerning the welfare of the schoolchildren of Hogwarts, and in particular, one specific winged child). Her talk with the headmaster had been, rather predictably, like talking to a blank wall, a blank wall that had the rather infuriating habit of assuming that it was the only wall in the entire world that could possibly ever be right about anything, and pity on the other walls should they be so benighted as to disagree. So she was forming her own plans.“Clearly,” she told the other three heads of house, Poppy, Hagrid, and the other elective teachers, “we must take the protection of the children into our own hands. Severus, do you think yourself capable of creating a brew that would allow us to sustain standing patroni around the castle once we’ve cast the initial spell?”“It will take me a few days, but I do believe I could do such a thing. Although…” he suddenly looked unsure of himself (although one would have to know him quite well to see the uncertainty in his eyes). “Harry has allowed me to keep his discarded feathers to study, in hopes of gaining more information about his sudden and unexpected creature inheritance. Given the effects that the child has on the dementors, which seems to be related to his wings, I believe that they would likely be very helpful in creating and strengthening such a brew, but I certainly don’t want to use any part of him without his consent, even if he otherwise would have thrown them away. Perhaps, since he is more comfortable with you, you could broach the subject with him?”Minerva didn’t bother to comment on the man’s use of her ward’s first name, but her eyes softened and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.“That’s very sweet of you, Severus- no, don’t make that face,” she scolded, when the Slytherin’s countenance changed to horrified indignation that someone would dare call him sweet, “I’m glad to see that you’re beginning to see my Hari for who he is, and not who his parents were- either of his parents, mind you- but I really think that, as it is you who is to create the potion, you should be the one to broach the subject. I dare say that the dear child will have a number of theoretical questions about the project that I would be unable to answer, anyway. Based on what he’s been checking out from the library lately, his own potions skills are such that I wouldn’t have the knowledge to supply his curious mind about such a potion as you’re going to make, seeing as I’ve barely touched a cauldron since my N.E.W.T.S.”“I can’t imagine why you wish me to talk to Harry so much as to downplay your own aptitude to such an extent, Minerva,” Severus protested, still seemingly unaware of his use of the boy’s first name.“Really, Severus, it’s not as if I have an ulterior motive- Harry likes potions, and you’re the potions master. We need a potion and I think he’d be interested in the process. That’s all.”“I highly doubt the child has any desire to spend more time with me, no matter how much he likes potions. While I will admit that, looking at his skills this year in class when he’s given a proper chance of it, he has great potential- and if it had been any other child, I’d probably have pulled my head out of my arse and started eying him as a potential apprentice back in first year- I dare say I’ve ruined any chance of that with my own abominable treatment of him.” The others stared at him, gobsmacked.“Has someone slipped him veritaserum?” Aurora Sinestra turned to the others, her musical voice full of disbelief. “Because, although I have no doubt what he’s saying is true, I can’t imagine him having ever admitted such a thing willingly.” “I’ve seen his memories, when I found him that night, and in that state… I consider it my penance that I am bearing to others truths I would rather keep to myself, since that is what I had to do to him to get him out of that household,” Severus replied, tone forcefully bland. “Let it never be said that I am not a man who pays my dues.”“Ah yes, the Severus Snape Self-Punishment System,” Poppy quipped wryly. “At least this one doesn’t involve me nursing you through another night of post- Death-Eater meeting cruciatus.” Severus merely rolled his eyes. “The point, Minerva, is that Harry will never willingly spend time with me outside of class, and I don’t think it’s fair to make him.”“Harry is far too forgiving for his own good,” Minerva replied, “and in this case I think it may work in your favor. I must insist that you at least give him the option to talk to you directly about the use of his feathers, and to answer any questions he may have about the process. I’ll let him know that you wish to talk to him about a potion and ask his permission for use of his feathers, but I think you should explain the particulars directly. If he is really against talking with you, then I would never force him, but I am almost certain that he’ll want to involve himself in the process, and I will be giving him the option whether you agree to it or not.”Severus sighed. “Very well.” Part of him ached, wondering if he’d only not fucked things up with Lily, if they had stayed friends, if he hadn’t made the choices he had… well, maybe he would have been on Lily’s side what Remus should have been on James- an uncle-like presence in the child’s life. An image of a healthier, unscarred Harry popped into his head (still with the ridiculous wings, because he highly doubted that the child’s penchant for finding himself in impossible situations would have changed even if his parents had survived), brewing alongside him in his house on Spinner’s end as he babysat him for Lily, his unmarked left arm ruffling the child’s atrocious hair.Snape shook his head- where had that come from? If anything, he should still have hated the child- he represented the fact that he’d lost Lily to James (except, he’d realized later, he’d never wanted her romantically in the first place- never wanted anyone romantically, he’d discovered about himself later- he just hadn’t known how to quantify his feelings, because he’d grown up without love, and then he’d loved Lily, and he was a boy and she was a girl, so of course he’d thought that it must have meant… but nevermind that, it was too late, in any case. He’d destroyed her either way, and now her son was suffering because of it). The truth, however, seemed to be that he didn’t resent Harry for being Harry. The only thing he’d resented Harry for was the fact that he had his old school rival for a father, and that it had nothing to do with the fact that said rival had married Lily. Lily marrying James was entirely separate to Severus’ own issues with the man. But he hadn’t had the good sense to separate those issues from Lily’s own child, so he certainly didn’t deserve to be thinking of any alternate timeline in which he could have formed a bond with Harry. His job, his duty, was to protect Harry, and maybe to die for him if it came to that, but he had no right to anything else.“Earth to Severus,” Minerva was waving her hand in front of his face.“Apologies,” He startled, suddenly realizing just how lost he’d gotten in his own head. “I was merely absorbed in thought about the potion.”Every face in the room showed him how bad of a liar he was. If the dark lord does return as Albus seems to think, that certainly doesn’t bode well for my spy skills, Severus thought, but pushed that worry behind his occlumency shields for the time being.“In any case, I was merely saying that perhaps we ought to adjourn for the night. I’ll talk to Harry tomorrow, and then we can reconvene from there, once we have his answer about the possible use of his feathers. Then you can give us a more accurate timeline of when you believe you can create such a potion.”“Very well,” Severus agreed, suddenly exhausted. If he were a different man, perhaps he would have decided that the whole thing wasn’t worth the trouble, since the headmaster certainly didn’t seem at all concerned, and surely the headmaster was far kinder and better to look after the welfare of children than he, dour, child-averse dungeon bat that he was. But to be such a man, he would have to be someone who fully trusted Albus Dumbledore’s ability to care for and protect vulnerable children.Severus Snape could never be such a man, because he was living proof of the fact that Albus had no such abilities, or at least no such inclinations. If he had, maybe Severus wouldn’t have made half of the decisions that he did in life. But, bad childhood or no, he had made those decisions, and he had to pay the price. And so he went to bed, knowing that on the morrow, as with every day for the past twelve years, he would don his teaching robes like vestments of atonement______Meanwhile, Remus was watching Snape walk back towards the dungeons with a shake of his head and an expression that was almost fond. What a drama queen, he thought, amused. I guess it makes sense why Regulus had such a crush on him , what with the drama that runs in that family. Then he shook himself. No fond thoughts about Sirius, he scolded, self-deprecatingly. You have no excuse- you have control over the wolf now, so the fact that werewolves mate for life shouldn’t matter anymore. Do not let yourself get caught up in good memories, or you might let your guard down. And you can never let your guard down. You have to protect Cub. “I swear, James,” he whispered under his breath as he headed to his own quarters. “I’ll protect Harry, even if I have to kill my mate with my own two hands.”
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“Don’t look now, but Dumbledore is looking at us funny,” Hari whispered to Ron and Hermione at breakfast the next day, as Ron took it upon himself to butter Harry’s toast because ‘you never use enough, mate!’ Ron snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye, ignoring Harry’s command. Dumbledore was indeed looking at them, an expression on his face that was somewhere between calculated and constipated. His hands clenched around the butter knife, knuckles white as he added a mixture of strawberry and raspberry jam to his best friend’s toast before cutting it in half diagonally and placing it next to his eggs, but not so close that it would get caught in the crossfire of the spice mixture Hari was liberally dumping all over them (courtesy of Pallavi Patel, who sent her girls, and now Hari, large containers of homemade spice powders throughout the year, so that their poor taste buds wouldn’t wither and die from months on end of under seasoned dishes).“He pays way too much attention to Harry,” Hermione huffed. “Unless, of course, Harry is about to die. Then he is suddenly nowhere to be found.”“I mean, I guess I am sort of a sight these days, what with the wings and all,” Harry gestured backwards, forgetting he was still holding the salt shaker full of spicy red powder, which was now liberally coating his wings as well as his eggs. Ron merely sighed, shook his head fondly, wet a napkin in the water pitcher, and started meticulously and gently wiping them clean. Hari, quite used to Ron’s hovering, showed no reaction except to fondly nudge Ron’s side with one of the currently-spicy appendages. Then, catching sight of the time on the hand-me-down watch Arthur had sent him for his birthday, he started shoveling his eggs in faster. Ron would have worried that he’d stab the inside of his mouth with the fork, but luckily, he was using his right hand instead, just like Parvati was doing two seats away from the trio.“Don’t rush, Hari,” Hermione scolded mildly. “You have enough trouble keeping food down as it is,” she said, after thoughtfully casting a muffliato charm first. “Besides, Merlin knows it’s not like we’ll miss anything if we’re late for Divination.”“Oh man, Hermione Granger is talking shite about a class. Someone check and make sure it’s not someone polyjuiced to look like her,” Harry teased, but obligingly slowed his eating.Hermione just rolled her eyes. “What? You know I’m right,” she huffed. “I think next year I’ll just drop the damn class and give the time-turner back, and be done with the whole lot of trouble.” She still had the muffliato charm. And yes, Professor McGonagal had told her not to tell anyone about the time turner, but in Hermione’s mind, that very much excluded Ron and Hari, as it was simply a given that she would tell them everything. “If I also drop muggle studies, then I won’t need it anymore. Honestly, Professor Burbage is nice and all, but why they hired a pureblood to teach muggle studies is beyond me. Half the information is useless. Do you know that the textbook actually calls it a fellytone?”“Finally, an explanation!” Harry exclaimed around a mouthful of toast. “I guess that’s why poor Arthur has so much trouble with the word.”“Well, I think it’s a good thing that you’re gonna stop overloading yourself,” Ron jumped in. “It’s right awful to see you looking so stressed and exhausted all the time, staying up half the night studying nonsense that you already know by heart, anyway.” Noting that Harry looked rather full, but was still struggling through his kipper, not wanting to waste food, he picked up both his and Harry’s bags and stood up to start heading to class. Harry didn’t even try to take his bag back, having long since given up on trying to temper Ron’s protective instincts towards him.They made it up to the Divination classroom on time, against their best efforts (and the fact that it took Hari quite a bit of effort and awkward maneuvering to fit his wings through the narrow loft space). From the lack of pre-set tea service, it looked like they were finished with the tessomancy unit, and Hermione sighed. The only semi-useful part of the class so far had been the morning tea time, and now even that was finished with.Trelawny entered a moment later from her quarters, which were connected to her classroom. She took a look at the three of them, eyes going wide. “Oh dear,” she sighed, her mournful eyes magnified behind her ridiculous glasses. “As if it wasn’t enough that poor young Harry was doomed to die by the grimm, now you three have gone and tied your lifelines together. More tiny headstones- it does my old heart no good to see such visions. Simply terrible! You three might as well go off and play now, while you still have time! We’re going to be picking our topics for the semester project, but I see no sense forcing you to do one, what with the fact that you won’t be alive to give the presentation in June. You can come back next class, if you’d like. Although Merlin knows I shain’t fault you if you’d rather not. Don’t worry, I’ll give you all an A, although some small consolation it will be for your poor parents. Well, except for you, dear,” she sniffed, looking at Harry and blowing her nose on a hanky. “Although, I suppose that at least there will be enough space between their graves for you, since you won’t be needing a very big casket.”“I can’t believe she just insulted my size!” Harry griped, as they climbed down the ladder and began wandering down the hall. “As if I don’t hear enough about it already!”“Well, at least we don’t have to do the semester project,” Ron pointed out, looking on the bright side. “Morgana’s tits, the woman’s barmy. And what’s this about tying our lifelines together, anyway?”“Nothing I’ve ever heard of,” Hermione sniffed. “I’ve never seen anything about it in the library. Honestly, what a load of fluff she’s got between her ears. Well, at least I can use the time to study for the quiz in Ancient Runes.”“That sounds… fun,” Harry commented dubiously. “I think I’ll go to the kitchen and visit the elves. Dobby said he’s got a pair of socks that he’s knitted for me.”“Merlin help us,” Ron joked, picturing Dobby’s… less than traditional… taste in socks.“They’re not that bad,” Harry defended. “Harry. The last pair he made had Christmas lights.” Ron wrinkled his nose “Maybe this pair won’t, though,” Harry rebutted, rather optimistically so, as they passed the Gryffindor tower. He and Ron both gave Hermione a peck on the cheek before waving her through the portrait as she went off to her studying, and then the boys turned tail and headed cheerfully for the kitchen._____Harry’s new socks did indeed have Christmas lights on them, and tinsel as well, earning him a raised eyebrow from Snape as they entered the potions classroom. The class period went off, strangely enough, without a hitch, and even Neville’s potion was only a shade or two off what it was supposed to be. Harry placed his and Ron’s bottle on the desk at the end of class, although he didn’t move away, knowing from Minerva that the man was going to ask him to stay after class. He reassured Ron with a glance that he’d be fine on his own, but he also knew that the other boy wasn’t going to stray very far down the hallway regardless of how much he told him he didn’t have to wait up.“So, Professor McGonagall mentioned your plans for an anti-dementor potion, but she couldn’t give me any details. I assume you’re going to be using Balm of Gilead and Aurena saxatilis, and which I figure should work just fine with my wings- I went inside the greenhouse to check, just in case, and my wings didn't seem to react much to them either way, so I’d guess that the reaction would be neutral, if anything. However, I’m really craving basil lately, and that’s supposed to mean ‘best wishes,’ so maybe that would work in the potion as well? I was also wondering which ingredient you were planning on using for the ‘permanency’ aspect of it- Minnie couldn’t give me too many details about your theoretical musings.” The child spit all this out in one excited breath, not seeming to notice the nickname he’d used for his guardian, or the fact that Snape was staring at him with an expression of complete disbelief.“Harry,” he said, voice very near a wheeze. “When did you become a master in botanic concurrence?” “Dunno” Harry shrugged his shoulders, and the wings shrugged with them. “Part of potions, innit? I really like potions theory. Studied up on it a lot last year, too, hoping that if I knew enough about the theory, I might be able to think of a way to save my potions when the other students sabotaged them.” Other students hindering his potions efforts unchecked had been an issue since first year, but it had ramped up excessively during the whole ‘chamber’ debacle when everyone thought he was the heir of Slytherin.“You mean when I didn’t do my job as a teacher and stop other students from messing with your potions?” Snape asked, and Harry cocked his head in confusion at the wry self-deprecation he detected in his tone.“You were supposed to?” he asked, sounding genuinely bemused. “I thought protecting your potion was part of the grade.” Severus very nearly screamed into his hands in exasperation, but managed not to. “No,” he replied, voice tight. “It is not, and I am, apparently, an even more horrid teacher than I first supposed.”“You’re acting weird,” Harry wrinkled his little brown nose. “Here- Hermione taught me a diagnostic charm to check for curses- I’ll run it on you now.”“I’m not cursed, Harry,” Snape sighed, not seeming to register the child’s first name once again leaving his mouth, although Harry himself startled a bit. “I’ve just been forced to come to terms with how deeply I’ve failed you, and your mother to boot.”“You knew my mum?” Harry breathed, leaning forward, and Lily’s eyes were wide and eager in his half-starved face. “Yes,” the potions professor replied, his heart clenching. “And she would be very angry with me for how I have treated you the past few years. I realize, child, that I never gave you a proper apology for that. I projected my issues with your father onto you, and in doing so, I missed very clear signs that you were in an abusive situation. I pride myself on recognizing the signs in students- especially those in my own house- and missing such a case as yours was an egregious error on my part, as was turning your safe space into a place where you felt threatened and were, because of my actions, put at a significant disadvantage in a subject that you so clearly enjoy.”Harry blinked up at him a couple times, not seeming to know how to react to the man’s sincerity, nor at what was quite probably the most sincere apology he’d ever received from an adult (and wasn’t that sad in its own right). “Well,” he eventually settled on, half-shrugging. “You have been loads better this year. And you did stop Quirrel from hexing my broom first year. You should probably apologize to Neville, though.” Here his expression turned fierce and accusing. “I get that you had issues ‘cuz I looked like my dad, but there was no reason for you to be so mean to Neville.”Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are correct- there was no reason to be so terrible to Mister Longbottom, and I will apologize to him as well. But for the record- there was also no good reason for me to treat you so abominably, and it concerns me that you are so much more offended on Mr. Longbottom’s behalf than your own.”Harry shrugged. “Look, you weren’t great, but you’re doing better now. And you apologized and you never hit me and the worst thing you make people do in your detentions is scrub cauldrons, which is actually kind of fun, especially because you let us use gloves and you don’t make the water so hot that it burns our hands.” Severus got the awful feeling that he was speaking from experience about the lack of gloves and burnt hands from doing dishes. He crouched down so that he was at eye level with the child, ignoring the protest from his knees as he forced them to support his descent into a very low squat. “Child,” he declared, with feeling. “You have appallingly low standards for your educators.”“Yeah, that’s what Ron said too,” Harry huffed a chuckle, Lily’s eyes shining with mirth and his lips quirking into a half smile that James used to do, but that oddly did not remind Severus of Potter senior. Rather, on Harry, it was quite… adorable? “So, can you tell me more about this potion you’re making? Minerva said that you’d answer all my questions, and when she saw how excited I got, she said she’d even make you let me help, if I wanted.” His little white wings were nearly quaking with excitement, and Severus hadn’t seen someone get this excited about potions theory since he and Lily used to have long discussions about it late into the night at their sleepovers together during the summers, studying books she’d snuck out of the library before leaving Hogwarts as they discussed the seemingly endless possibilities over cups of Mrs. Evans’ famous hot cocoa. Severus felt the heart he only recently realized that he still had clench painfully.“Yes child,” He sighed, surprising himself with how gentle his voice was. “You may help if you would like. Now, why don’t you tell your worried friend that I am not in fact going to skin you for a potions ingredient, and then we can go into my private study and I’ll show you my notes, if you’d like.”“Brill!” Harry’s face lit up, and so did his wings, brightening the area around them. Harry, in his eagerness, barely seemed to notice as he skipped off to tell Ron all about the cool experiment he was going to get to work on.He came back a moment later, redhead in tow. “Ron says he’s gonna stay in the classroom so that he can hear if you try to kill me,” the boy said cheerfully, smiling cheekily at Snape, any lingering animosity towards the professor seemingly long forgiven and forgotten. The child is far too trusting for his own good, Severus groaned internally. At least the Weasley boy seems to have a modicum more of sense when it comes to these things. “Very well,” Severus agreed, and Ron cast a suspicious glance out of the corner of his blue eyes. Severus didn’t need legilimency to know that Ronald Weasley found his acquiescence too quick when compared with his usual distemper. He didn’t mention it, however, nor did he bring up the monitoring charm he cast on the smaller boy when Harry wasn’t looking.He led the boy into his personal office, pushing aside a pile of truly abysmal fourth-year essays that he’d been grading as he pulled his most recent research notebook from the top drawer of his desk. Harry leaned close, eagerly taking in the cramped, spidery scrawl covering the pages, alongside diagrams of various ingredients and a few preliminary equations concerning possible ratios and balances of the proposed ingredients.His fingers were ghosting over a diagram Severus had drawn of one of Harry’s discarded feathers when his right wing came in contact with the man’s left arm.Severus felt the band of dark magic that had haunted him for the past 12 years forcefully pried loose, and the parasitic strand of the dark lord’s magic that Severus had tried his best to isolate from the rest of his core gave a wet slurp and a tug like the feeling of a suction cup being pried away from whatever it had been stuck on as what had seconds before been his dark mark was nearly flung across the room, dissipating into the air with a faint, strangled scream.Harry looked up at him, surprised, as Severus fell heavily into his desk chair, stunned and unable to process what had just happened as his core seemed to spread out, settling contentedly to fill the newly empty space where it had been infringed upon for so long by Tom Riddle’s ugly brand.“What was that?” Harry asked, shaking out his wing. “It tickled, and my wing really didn’t like it.” “That,” Severus told him, voice barely audible. “Was yet another impossible thing that you have accomplished, and a potential threat to your safety, should the headmaster hear of it. Please run along and go play with your friends, and please don’t mention these events to anyone other than Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger until I have explained further, when I am in a better state to do so. I will call you to my office after dinner once I gather my thoughts, should you find this amenable.”“ Oooo-kay,” Hari scrunched his small brown face in confusion but didn’t argue. “Um, what does amenable mean?” Wordlessly, Severus reached behind him to pull a dictionary from one of the bookshelves, setting it into the small boy’s arms before motioning him towards the door, the now-blank canvas of his left arm flashing as he did so, making him feel unsettled all over again. As soon as Harry left, his fluffy wings still glowing faintly, Severus poured himself a double shot of firewhisky before reaching for the floo powder. First things first- he had to tell Minerva, and hope to whatever half-dead god that may still be listening that the two of them would be able to protect the child from the potential repercussions of this new ability, and that Severus would be able to find some new way to keep Harry safe, now that his link to Voldemort’s inner circle had just been yeeted into the ether.“Impossible child,” he groaned into his hands, his magic so much lighter and his anxiety so much heavier. It would have been easier if he was like James, he wailed internally. At least the bastard was predictable. “He’s just like you, Lily,” he whispered as he poured himself another tumblr of Old Ogden’s, figuring correctly that he would need to be just a bit drunker before he could offer Minerva any coherent explanation as to what had just happened. “Completely unexpected and far too good for this world. Merlin knows it’ll likely take everything I’ve got just to keep him in it.”He downed his second drink and tossed the powder into the floo, hoping against a hope he'd never had that Albus’s crooked nose hadn’t already caught the scent of whatever magic Harry had just unwittingly performed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Severus?” Minerva looked up at her colleague in surprise. “What on earth has you looking like you’ve just seen a ghost… well, worse than that, really, I suppose.” Minerva McGonagall blushed slightly- some of her muggle expressions and habits had never fully left her, despite her full immersion into the wizarding world since the age of eleven.“Severus, really? Kneazle got your tongue?” she prompted a few moments later, when it was clear that he wasn’t going to respond, instead plopping heavily (and rather ungracefully) backwards into her spare armchair. “You look… disturbed. And not out of rage, as one would usually expect. And also perhaps a little bit… drunk?” She furrowed her brows, more concerned than ever. While it wasn’t unlike the two of them to have a tipple once in a while, or even to share one in one or the other’s office during periods when the students were gone, it was hardly like him to be drinking in the middle of the work day. “Really, I must insist you say something, or else I’ll have no choice but to call Poppy.”The threat of the mediwitch had him, at long last, reacting, although with far from his usual composure. In fact, if Minerva were to pry, she rather suspected that she might actually have had a chance of getting past his occlumency shields.Her younger colleague merely lifted his robes, exposing what Minerva realized with some shock was his left arm- his unmarked left arm. In lieu of any real explanation, he merely rasped “Harry,” while pointing emphatically to the lack of dark mark, and Minerva blinked. Well, she supposed that that was as good of an explanation as any for something so unprecedented. “Oh,” she replied in disbelief, her voice far smaller than usual.“Indeed,” Severus responded, the wry tone with which he usually said the word notable only in its absence.“Well then,” Minerva attempted to shake herself out of her stupor, only partially succeeding. “I suppose we ought to have a tassie of tea- or perhaps something a bit stronger, even, since you’ve already gone and had a good head start on that front, and we’ll just have to figure out what to make of this.”____Meanwhile, it was the first full moon since Harry had done… whatever it was that he had, and Remus Lupin headed for the shrieking shack, his pace unhurried and his mind placid. He’d gone to take a sip of the wolfsbane Severus had so kindly (?) brewed for him, only to feel Moony, from where he now rested unobtrusively in his core, shrink back, whining pitifully. The message was clear. I won’t fight you if you do, but please don’t drink that, the wolf seemed to whine, and Remus cocked his head, considering. “Well, I suppose we could try to go without, just this once, although we’ll have to head down to the shack instead of curling up in my nice cozy office,” he offered.Remus felt Moony’s tongue loll out as he panted his eager acquiescence. And so Remus headed out shortly before moonrise, towards the place that used to haunt him. He got in just the way he used to, casting a couple unhurried cleaning charms to brighten up the place, feeling in his core the way the moon slowly inched upwards from the horizon. Finally, maybe twenty minutes after he’d reached the shack, the moon reached its zenith, and Remus yielded to the wolf’s polite (if impatient) request. Painlessly, his face elongated to a snout, he sprouted fur, and the wolf emerged, although with a warm, tingling feeling instead of the breaking of bones and the agonizing force of every full moon before. Huh, Remus noted, as he saw the world yet again through Moony’s eyes. I appear to still be lucid and conscious. Even the wolfsbane hadn’t been able to give him that. Rather, although it was Moony who was now in the forefront, Remus knew that he was still in full control of this partnership. It was almost like he was taking his dog for a walk, except that the dog was a wolf, and the wolf lived in his magical core. He realized with some shock that there was also nothing stopping him from letting Moony out anytime he wanted to, and that all Moony really wanted was to stretch his legs, play happily, and be a dog. Well, he supposed, a run in the forbidden forest couldn’t hurt. Not quite like old times, but at least I’ll have Moony for company. Feeling Moony’s excitement, he obligingly turned their shared body towards the forest, loping happily out of the shack._____Hari paced the dorms, full of energy and glowing more brightly than usual. One might think, after what he’d learned earlier, that it would be nervous energy. After all, Snape, with help from Minerva, had explained what, exactly, that Harry had removed- a dark mark. The man had made a mistake, and then regretted the mistake and became a spy. It was a lot more complicated than that- and Hari was still reeling from everything that he’d learned, but ultimately, he still decided that he was okay with Snape. After all, they all had regrets, and Hari highly doubted that he could have accidentally removed the dark mark if the man hadn’t wanted it gone. Now, though, if Voldemort returned like Professor Dumbledore apparently feared, Snape couldn’t be a spy anymore, which was possibly a problem, the way the professors made it sound, although they assured him that it wasn’t his fault, and Snape really did seem happier to have the mark removed once the shock had worn off. He’d even thanked Harry! Severus Snape had thanked him, Hari Puttar! Ron had nearly had a conniption when he’d relayed the events to him and Hermione! So no, it wasn’t any lingering worry from the earlier conversation causing him to restlessly pace the dorms, wings all a-flutter. Rather, he just felt… restless. Ron watched him with a worried expression, chewing his lip as he thought. “Say, isn’t this your first full moon with the wings?” he asked eventually, scribbling something down in the notebook Hermione had given him.“Er, yeah, I think so. Last month on the full moon was when they came in, come to think of it,” Harry responded, continuing to wear a path in the carpet by his bed. “I dunno, I just feel… trapped. Like I need to be outside.”“For the love of Merlin, please go!” Seamus begged. “You’re making it too bright in here to get any sleep.”“Oh,” Hari suddenly registered his brightly-glowing wings. “Sorry.”“It’s alright,” Dean and Neville assured him. From his position on Harry’s bed, Buckbeak perked his head up, looking pointedly towards the window.“Oh, okay then,” Harry agreed, seeming to get the message. “Ron, you coming?”“You know that you don’t even have to ask,” Ron laughed, climbing on Buckbeak’s back behind Harry. “Should we pick up Hermione on the way?”___Hermione got a slight shock as she looked out her window to see Buckbeak, who was pleased as punch to be carrying his son on his back and taking him flying, since Hari’s feathers weren’t yet grown in enough to support solo flight. Ron was behind Harry as well, blue eyes alight with humor as he caught the expression on their best friend’s face.“Nighttime adventure then, is it?” She asked quietly, carefully tiptoeing around her sleeping dorm-mates. She ignored the fact that Lavender was snuggled up next to Parvati in the Indian girl’s bed- it was nothing new.She climbed onto the window sill and let Ron give her a hand onto Buckbeak’s back. Harry was literally alight with bliss, his wings glowing more brightly than she’d ever seen them.“Chandra mātā is so pretty tonight,” he murmured, his face towards the moon. Ron and Hermione didn’t comment on the foreign words, but Hermione made a mental note to write it down in the notebook later, and to ask Parvati if the words meant what she thought they did. The full moon did seem to be having quite the effect on Hari, his small face alight with joy as he turned it upwards, towards the bright moon and the glowing stars.“Padma told me that the moon lives in a house that she shares with the sun, and during the day she rests and eats curd rice,” Harry remarked, light gathering around his fingertips, which he idly shaped into images to match the story he was telling. “Now the sun is sleeping and eating hot spicy foods to get ready for tomorrow, and it’s Chandra mātā’s turn to guard the children of the gods.” He seemed half in a daze, albeit a pleasant one, fully unaware of what a miracle he was. He’s our little miracle, Hermione thought into Ron’s back as she wrapped her arms tighter around him, warm and content as the light from Hari’s wings warded off the chill more effectively than any warming charm. He’s ours to protect, and we are so blessed. She knew that Ron could feel the same warmth that was currently ballooning in her chest, knew that he was sharing similar thoughts as they skimmed low over the lake, glittering waves rising up to clip Buckbeak’s talons and hooves.They kept flying, caring not a whit that it was long past curfew as they flew to the edges of the Hogwarts wards, the rare dementor that they saw out of the corners of their eyes fleeing the moment they caught sight of Harry’s glowing wings. They landed gently on a rolling green hill just outside the bounds of the forbidden forest, plonking happily down on a blanket of soft green grass, surrounded by white waves of moondrops, their petals arching towards Harry as he wandered happily through, fingers trailing over any buds that were still closed as they flourished into blossom under his gentle touch. Then he turned, each dark little hand grabbing for one of his friend’s, spreading shimmering moondust pollen from his fingers to theirs. They ambled along happily through the field of softly-glowing white petals. The moonlight was warm, and they were covered in pollen that glittered far more than it should, and they were glimmering, glittering, gleaming in the warm light of Harry’s wings, incandescent silver pollen like stardust glistening on their hair, their hands, their noses and cheeks. Sirius Black was a faraway thought- if he were even anywhere close to here, well- that didn’t matter either. The moon was here, the stars were out, and they were bound by a love so powerful that they knew that- for this moment, at least- they were safe, they were protected.Hari laughed, a high, musical, beaming thing, a joy so fragile and yet so full, as it expanded past his too-small chest and filled the air around it. It was the most beautiful sound in the world to his two companions, whose elated, eager giggles soon rose to join his own. It was like a song, it was magic in the air in the purest form, there was no spell that could ever be half so powerful as the joy of three children with far too much on their fragile shoulders who were, for this fleeting, joyful moment, unburdened with only a hippogriff and the proud light of the moon to bear witness.From far away, deep in the forest, Moony perked his nose up, his extremely powerful ears picking up the sound of children’s laughter. Ahhh, he thought. So Cub is enjoying the moon as much as we are, tonight. Indeed, Remus agreed, a warm feeling in his chest. Things are far from stable this year, but for tonight, all is well.