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Sirius played plenty of stupid pranks during his fifth year. Some he quite enjoyed, but others with lasting consequences. One that was stupider than luring Snape to the Whomping Willow.*It had been easy enough to hide the baby bump under her school robes, but muggle clothes didn’t have the same volume to them.Petunia had laughed nastily at her. Her parents were disappointed in her and didn’t want her to go back to Hogwarts.James’ parents were horrified that their son hadn’t used proper protection (which he was certain he had).So a baby with messy black hair and bright green eyes was born on August 13, 1976 to Lily Evans and James Potter.The Potters and the Evans talked. The Potters talked to Dumbledore. Dumbledore talked to the Evans.So the baby quietly disappeared.James and Lily started their sixth year at Hogwarts—a magical vow of chastity in place.The Evans were mollified and Petunia had a particularly smug look.The Potters were relieved that the deal they made so that in 11 years time there would be no rumors about a Potter bastard.*Alphard Black was sick of his family.Sick of the people he’d been stuck with.Sick of having his money being controlled.Sick of being a pawn.His freedom was tightly controlled by Lord Black, Arcturus Black—who through a deal with the goblins controlled the vaults of every member of their family, unless they had married out.But now everyone was distracted. Orion had been beaten down into silence. Walburga was trying to do the same with Sirius, Regulus hiding to the best of his ability. Cygnus, Alphard’s brother, was actually being a human being and supporting Narcissa through another miscarriage—While summarily ignoring Bellatrix’ descent into the family curse of Black Madness. Arcturus was in mourning for Cassiopeia, the last of his generation of Blacks.Alphard had slowly been converting his galleons into muggle money, and putting it in a muggle bank. He was renting a flat after having hired a muggle-born to teach him everything he needed to know to function in the foreign society.And now Alphard was fulfilling his life long dream of being a father, something that he had thought would be impossible with his queer nature and adoption being illegal in most wixen countries.When he saw the newborn, it was clear to Alphard that he had the bloodline Potter Hair curse. As far as bloodline curses went, this one was practically benign, just having messy hair.He came with only one caveat that Alphard had to use a blood adoption potion in front of the seller. Alphard had already planned to blood adopt the boy. He hoped that his blood wouldn't mess up the child. It was likely that the mother was a muggle-born. If one of the Potters had an affair and beget the child with another pureblood, it was standard to send the child to France so that they later on could go to Beauxbatons and they would have a stipend from the main house. It was the proper way all "proper" indiscretions were handled.But Alphard didn't investigate further. He didn’t care, not with his baby boy in his arms.He named him Harry (a very muggle name) Alphard Grey. Alphard, now Alfred Grey, settled into his muggle flat with Harry.*The Howler took nearly two months to come.Alphard had been prepared, already having Howler wards up.Instead of unleashing deafening shouts it stayed in stasis until Alphard chose; from there it only spoke in a whisper.Unsurprisingly, it was Walburga. Even with the Howler near silenced, her ire was clear.She went on and on about blood adoption being for lesser wixen, how it was an insult to the Blacks who need not use such “lowly” methods, how she was sure Arcturus would cut him off financially, that he would be welcomed to rejoin the “civilized” family if he killed the child.Alphard would roll his eyes if he didn’t used to get stinging hexed by his parents when he did it as a child.*Harry’s accidental magic didn’t manifest the same way most toddlers did. It wasn’t a favorite toy flying into his hands or disliked food disappearing. It was far subtler. Harry threw fits before Alphard got the chance to pull out “icky brocci” for his snack. He toddled over to Alphard with his shoes before Alphard announced they were going to the park.What really clinched it for Alphard was when Harry refused to let him go down the stairs outside of a restaurant they’d just eaten at. Any parent would think it was a child throwing a fit because they didn’t want to leave, but Alphard waited and watched. A muggle started going up the stairs then let out a shout when his foot went through a rotted floor board.His son was a Seer, and Alphard had to make sure it was kept a secret or risk him being abused for his knowledge.*Alphard didn’t get the Daily Prophet or any of the non-state run newspapers, but it was fairly clear to him that something had happened in the wixen world worth celebrating.Voldemort defeated by the Girl-Who-Lived, Hestia Potter.*Just because they lived in muggle England didn’t mean Alphard neglected Harry’s magical education. He was happy to teach him everything he needed to know to be prepared for Hogwarts, and then some.His Harry was good at potions, as most Seers were. He let him practice a few spells with his wand. He read the book on how to interpret tea leaves, only letting Harry have decaf tea.Alphard also didn’t neglect his non-magical education. He went to muggle school, which taught mathmatics that went beyond what was hastily taught in arithmancy. He learned how to ride a bicycle, which didn’t exist on the wixen side. Science that purebloods completely disregarded and thought of as tomfoolery.They ventured to Diagon Alley rarely, Alphard always wearing someone else’s face. Harry did have the Black Family looks, but his stunning green eyes made the leap not so easy to make. (Polyjuice used by children could stunt their growth.)Harry desperately wanted a broomstick, but they had nowhere safe for him to fly, plus it was outside of their budget. Alphard had never had a job beyond overseeing some of the family businesses, and had no references or work history to get his foot into the door. He knew he’d eventually have to get a job, but the money would last them until Harry’s second year at Hogwarts. He wasn’t worried.*Being a Seer was as much of a curse as it was a gift.Harry was often plagued by violent visions. Seeing car crashes and children being abused. Seeing things he didn’t understand. Things he couldn’t change.But when Harry did change something, he couldn’t See how things would go at first.When he Saw their apartment being burned down with them inside of it, he only needed to tell his dad they had to leave for him to act. But dad’s apparation didn’t work.Dad’s grip on his wrist was painful, but necessary as he pushed open the door of their flat. Harry was blinded by the smoke even though his dad had put a bubble-head charm on both of them. The smoke alarm was blaring and Harry was trying to not slip into a Vision.When they escaped, dad released the bubble-head charm—and then was knocked down by a flash of green. It was only his grip on Harry’s wrist that sent him falling to the ground, that made Harry dodge another streak of green magic.He saw a large woman in witch robes, her black wand pointed right at him as she screamed obscenities.A firetruck’s lights were dim compared to the fire behind him. The witch glanced at the incoming muggles before she disapparated with a twisted smile.Harry shook his dad’s shoulders, but he wouldn’t wake up! And the heat from the fire was starting to make Harry’s skin feel like it was bubbling. He dragged dad as far away as possible with all the strength of a nine-year-old.“Dad, please!” Harry said between coughs, the smoky wind against him.Harry was dragged away by a firefighter, people tried to talk to him, but he didn’t understand them—a firefighter with glassy eyes choking him to death.Harry gasped, still beside his dad’s body.His survival instinct kicked in. A firefighter neared. Harry grabbed his dad’s wand and tried to put a notice me not on himself. The first time the spell sputtered out, the second time the smoke made him cough mid-incantation, but the third time worked.He wanted to grab onto his dad as the firefighter hoisted him up, but Harry knew he was dead, knew intuitively that that witch had cast a spell on one of the firefighters to kill Harry.Harry gripped the wand tightly before running away.*Being a Seer occasionally saved Harry a lot of energy. He focused on what he should do now, sitting at a park bench. When he concentrated he could see Visions branching out. If he went to the police or school, he would be claimed by his Aunt Walburga and killed. If he pretended not to know his name, his dad’s wand would be taken away from him and he’d be defenseless at a group home. If he went to Diagon Alley, a wizard working for Walburga would capture and torture him to death.So Harry did none of those things.Vision after forced Vision, hunger growing as all he could smell was the smoke and ash on his clothes, the fading light piercing through his skull.A path, if only for the night. An apartment left unlocked in the haste to make a flight. Food in the fridge and a couch with a soft blanket.Harry cried himself to sleep, in more pain than he’d ever experienced before.*The next few days swam together with possible futures. Reality was only marked by splitting headaches.Uncountable paths.His magical fizzling, completely focused on the future.Finding lost pets for rewards.Sleeping in building that were left unlocked.And, one day Harry slipped back into the wizarding world.“How the hell did you get this?” a wizard with a missing ear asked him, holding a vial of thump root.“From a thump plant,” Harry answered with a simple shrug.Harry had started a bit of a potion ingredient business.He had three ways of doing so: Forcing visions of ingredient finders, and getting the item first. Seeing what items would be scare in the future. Or focusing on the future of the specific ingredient, like how a plant would grow or a bird would preen off a feather.Harry had also developed a new ability. Instead of just Seeing the future, he could also See the past. It was much more localized, though. If Harry held an item and really concentrated he saw glimpses of earlier times, earlier versions of the item, or when they were used.If he had more time, if dad was here, he knew he could further develop it. Maybe grow up and be an Auror who solved crimes with his best friend—but that’s not how life worked, and Harry tried not to fantasize about it too much.The ability hadn’t netted him any money yet. Who would believe a little kid when they said a necklace had been worn by some famous witch of old?But… Harry didn’t use it for that. Holding his dad’s wand close, he could still see him, younger—some instances were in good times, some in bad times.That wasn’t all he saw, though. And old man spending hours working on the wand. Hours spent testing the ebony wood with possible cores. The unicorn hair being tested with various woods, before the pair finally came together. The image was so vivid that it often trumped all other visions in frequency.Harry started providing wand core ingredients for the wizard in his visions that he put a name to, Ollivander. Of course he ran the wand shop in Diagon Alley.Their first interactions were just the exchange of coins and ingredients. Harry tried not to sell to him too often, but Harry was fascinated with visions of wands being crafted.And Harry was slowly pulled in until one day he realized he’d became Ollivander’s apprentice.

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Harry had been blocking the Vision. He could feel it like there was something stuck between his teeth. It was every present and wrong.There was no taste of danger to it though, so Harry did not search for the Vision of a letter that he’d been hoping for since he understood what Hogwarts was.But then his birthday came, but his letter didn’t.A week went by, then two.Harry didn’t understand.He searched for answers and was pulled into a Vision of the past.“Relax, Harry,” dad said soothingly. Harry was in his bed in nearly pitch black. His dad had pulled up a chair to sit beside him.Harry was gripping his head. “It hurts,” he whispered. Dad started rubbing his back. It kinda helped.“You can’t keep forcing your Visions like that. You’re sending all your magic to your eyes and creating pathways that go against the natural flow of your magic. If you keep pushing it your magic will always flow in that direction. When you get your wand it will be hard for your magic to go to those old paths that might have closed or weakened.”In the present, Harry felt himself gag. He took in a deep breath after a moment of panic. He hadn’t remembered that conversation, had been so small back then.Had he broken his pathways?He could still do some magic. But those spells had only been used to survive. The disillusionment spell, cooking spells, and mending ones. He hadn’t had a reason to learn others, hadn’t had the time…His dad would be so disappointed. He’d always told him not to get lost in Visions, to experience the world around him…Ollivander found Harry crying in the stairwell to the attic that held wand components and where Harry slept.Harry told him everything, about his Visions, what his dad said, and that he hadn’t gotten a Hogwarts letter.The enigmatic man brushed at the sparse hairs on his chin. “Think of it this way, sonny, a wandmaking apprenticeship normally takes decades. Not going to Hogwarts and having Visions means you can finish your apprenticeship faster and live your life independently. Your dad would be happy about that.”Harry sniffled. “I guess.” It wasn’t much of a comfort, but it was something.*For a Seer, time passed in odd ways. It was not linear. Harry could live in moments in the past, unable to touch them. Moments in the future, and try to steer towards or away from them.But one Vision kept seeping into his mind, in the moments between conscious and unconscious as he laid in bed.Death—Not like the Vision he saw of himself and dad in the fire. No, death reached every corner of the world. Magical plants and creatures then wixen and in the cascade of three days non-magical plants and animals died, including the muggles.Harry wasn’t sure when the Vision took place, but he hoped it was just a nightmare.*Harry was a child of the Alleys. That put him in one of three categories: part creature, too poor to afford Hogwarts, or a squib. Harry, with his shabby clothes, fell into the middle category as far as the citizens of the Alley thought. It was the safest option.He had to use his wand carefully, and it was his wand. Made with his own hands, pine and demiguise hair. Ollivander had been wary of him using such a rare ingredient but with Harry’s Visions acting as almost insurance that it would go right, the 13 year old was granted a large amount of lenience.Harry was not so skilled with the tools of wood carving, making the wand a bit ugly and oddly bent, but the demiguise hair lent the wand a unique ability to turn invisible on command. It was helpful since he could keep it hidden in the Alley from roaming Aurors, but still be at hand when he needed it—to show he wouldn’t be pushed around.When he wasn’t spending his time sequestered in Ollivander’s or on a trip with him to collect woods and cores, Harry was in and out of shops.It was a dance between Diagon and Knockturn. From Diagon, Cranville Quincey's Magical Junkshop, Harpy’s Bazaar, and to Ye Olde Curiosity Shop or Borgin and Burkes. He bought things that others didn’t know the true value of and sold them to the shops that could see that value.From Knockturn he bought the sort of things that were mundane and unlikely to be the aim of the sketchier buyers that frequented the shops, then sold them to Diagon Alley’s Harpy’s Bazaar or one of the other second hand shops.He had to be very careful and spread out the sales, make sure no one every guessed that he was a Seer.It was unfortunate that Harry still couldn’t use Gringotts. His dad had told him about how the Black Family had some sort of deal with the Goblins that would have them report back to the main family. Walburga might be dead, but Lord Arcturus was alive, and even when he died, Harry had no idea who would take over from there.And he couldn’t open a muggle bank account at his age. His Visions never Saw a way around it.Living in the attic of the shop didn’t allow a lot of space for items to accumulate, so Harry spent most of his earnings after a couple of years at Ollivander’s on a highly warded trunk and a even more warded money pouch. The latter had been a purchase from Borgin and Burkes. It would chomp off any hand or anything that tried to reach into it. The pouch had many other features, but that was Harry’s favorite.After a taster’s spoon of his favorite ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Harry headed up the stairs.The Harpy’s Bazaar, unlike what its name implied, was not run by harpies. He figured it was named that since harpies were incapable of lying. It gave some sort of legitimacy to the place, that apparently had worked since it had originally been in Knockturn. The price for real estate between the two alleys were vastly different, property on Diagon often being three times the price for half the space.The bazaar was open air, ropes above criss crossing with pennants hanging down and colorful sheets shading the stalls.Harry enjoyed the distant quibbling over prices and greetings from all the people he knew as he wove through the different, maze like paths. Maybe one day he’d have his own little set up here. Ollivander’s was a family business, and even with the line narrowing down to three: Garrick and his twin sons that were squibs, Harry was made to sign a contract that he wouldn’t open his own shop in England.He didn’t know the likelihood of Garrick letting him take over the shop, but he didn’t doubt that it would still be owned by the Ollivanders.Independence was… something Harry dearly wanted. He supplemented his wages from Ollivander’s, which was already cut low by paying for board and his own supplies, with his different business ventures. It was more than most wixen made at the start of their careers, but Harry felt… He just never felt really safe.Arcturus was still out there. He was a Lord and had the entire Black fortune. If he moved against Harry, if he even put in a bad word with Ollivander, Harry could find his life being destroyed again. He had less to lose this time, at least.“Haz!” a boy his age called to Harry.“Max,” Harry greeted his one of two real friend. Max was a squib who had one foot in the muggle world and another in the wizarding. His mother, Mary, had been disowned and divorced for giving birth to a squib. She’d ended up marrying a muggle. Max’s step-dad worked in publishing. Mary rewrote muggle fiction to fit the magical world and Max’s step-dad had them printed out with his connections. It was illegal, but Harry wasn’t telling on them. He was also with Mary in enjoying the stuck up pure-bloods enjoying muggle fiction, assuming it was written by wixen.Harry took a seat behind the stall with Max.“Anything good today?” Harry asked.“Ma is going through a “Whodunit” books phase. She keeps trying to get me to proof-read, but I keep telling her school is keeping me busy.” He pointed his chin towards his muggle made backpack. Max went to muggle school on the weekdays, but ran the stall on the weekend during tea-time.Harry had visited him at this hour knowing Mrs. Mary would be off. She was insistent that Max tell no one where the stories came from, but Harry had figured it out himself.“Got the goods?” Harry asked with a goofy voice.Max looked around them in an overly suspicious way. In a quick move Max shoved a paper bag with five Milky Bars to Harry, who in turn gave him a bag of seven Chocolate Frogs.They both chuckled before eating some of the candy. He and his dad used to share Milky Bars as a treat. He could get them himself, now, but it was suspicious for him to be in the muggle world alone. In a similar vein, Max wasn’t supposed to roam the Alley alone. It was easier for them both to just trade.“Another Bodric the Bereaved,” Max groused, not so delicately shoving the chocolate frog card in his pocket.They chatted over their snacks before Harry had to scurry off to avoid Mrs. Mary. She thought Harry was a bad influence, for some reason.*Harry had met Marcus Flint because of a Vision. He’d seen Flint Senior dragging his son down an alley to beat him with his walking cane. All Marcus had done was lisp and stumble over a few words, but that had been enough in Senior’s eyes to beat him.Harry had “accidentally” dropped trash on Senior’s head when he was dragging Marcus into the side-alley, transferring the wizard’s attention to him before bolting.Harry had a thing about abused children. He often had visions of a little red-headed girl who was abused. He had no idea how to find and help her, so when he did get a chance to help another kid, he did.It was a few weeks later that he ran into Marcus and their friendship bloomed. The other boy was painfully shy, something that Harry suspected was rooted in the appearance of his teeth. He had an overbite, gaps, and teeth twisted at odd angles. He tried to hide them and when he couldn’t hold back a laugh he covered his mouth.They didn’t get to see each other often, normally only a few times over summer since he started at Hogwarts.And… Marcus had offered to pay for Harry to go to Hogwarts. He knew that Harry knew some magic, had a wand, but Harry couldn’t admit that he didn’t have enough magic—or more accurately, had crippled himself—to qualify for Hogwarts.Harry did like hearing about Hogwarts, though. Harry just had to remind himself that without his Visions, he would be dead by now and not go to Hogwarts anyway. He had it a lot better off than some of the other children who called the the Alleys home.It was Harry’s fourteenth birthday, the 17th of August, 1989, when they were able to meet up again.They were in Ollivander’s, in the attic which was partially Harry’s own space. Harry had cleared off his little table and bought a second chair just for the occasion.They were meeting there because… Harry had more than one Vision of consequences of them being seen together. Marcus ostracized for hanging with a lowly mudblood. A parent relaying to Flint Senior that Marcus was “besmirching” purebloods by hanging with a “vagrant”. And, what Harry found the scariest, was when actually being looked at because of who accompanied him, they recognized the Black Family looks in him.None of those Visions had a good outcome.They were also meeting in Harry’s room because Marcus didn’t hide his smile half as much when it was just the two of them.“I’ll get you flying one day,” Marcus said when Harry, once again, turned the idea of going to a pitch. Marcus had his own broom, was on the Slytherin quidditch team, but had made it clear that he would rent a broom for Harry.“I’ll leave the flying to you.” But as he spoke, his throat tightened. Harry had had so many Visions of flying, of the look of absolute delight—but Harry knew if he experienced it for himself, he would spend all his money on broom rentals and entrance fees.Maybe one day when he had enough money…“And I wouldn’t want you to get a crush on me,” Harry teased.Marcus blushed bright red. Harry had long ago ferreted out that Marcus had a crush on someone on the Gryffindor quidditch team.“As if I could ever like an ugly mug like yours.” Marcus shoved a poorly wrapped present at Harry. “Here.”Harry grinned, loving how easily embarrassed Marcus got.“I’m just saying you should ask them out,” Harry mumbled while picking at the paper. He didn’t like tearing wrapping paper.“If you went to Hogwarts you’d know how impossible it is for a Slytherin and Gryf to date.”Harry felt a pang of hurt in his chest, but didn’t comment. He knew Marcus didn’t mean anything by it.He focused on his gift and held back a frown when it was a variety of tea leaves. “Thank you!” Harry low-key hated tea, but he drank it every morning to get a read on the day. Marcus didn’t know about his divination powers though. The only living person, besides himself, that did was Garrick. “Want a cuppa?”“I’m good. I also brought ice cream.” Harry had seen the paper bag and wondered.Harry hurried to his kitchenette and grabbed a couple of bowls and spoons.“I knew there’s a reason you’re my favorite.”Marcus had gotten Harry’s favorites, strawberry-and-peanut-butter, and carrot ice cream for himself.They ate in silence for a bit before Marcus told him tails of the mischief that went on in Slytherin and Hogwarts. It was bitter-sweet, but he enjoyed it nevertheless.*It was a gamble, but with Harry’s abilities, he rarely ever lost.But going to Gringotts to tell them someone was going to successfully break into their bank was nearly overwhelmingly intimidating.He had no love for Gringotts, with their deal with the Black Family making the bank unusable for him, but deals were meant to be struck—and with the only living Black in jail, he figured the goblins would be open to a new deal.Garrick had helped him write a contract and hopefully that would keep him safe.The words above the bank did nothing to assure Harry, even though they were in his favor.Inside the bank, the lines to the desk moved quickly. The desks were waist high for humans on their side. He wondered if the ground was raised on the other side, or if they were just sitting on tall chairs.Finally, it was his turn. "I need to, umm, talk to security?" Why did his throat feel tight? Maybe because he'd avoided security as much as possible while living in the muggle world, both because he was all alone and because he had to steal to survive.The goblin stared down at him."Why?" There was no inflection in his tone, or maybe boredom.Harry cleared his throat. "It's a security matter. A possible break-in." Before the goblin could say more, Harry slapped the contract on the desk, though "slapped" might be too strong of a word.The goblin looked unimpressed and gestured for one of the other goblins which was holding a battle-axe. They were security, right?"This child would like to see security about a possible," he scowled, "security breach"The battle-axe goblin snorted. "Come with me, child."Harry grabbed the contract then followed him. He felt smaller than usual, despite them being of a height. He was left in a room that only had a desk and seats on opposite sides of it. He wasn't sure how long he waited before a new goblin appeared.“Contract.” Harry handed it over, feeling restless in the hard chair.The goblin read it over. “You are aware that Gringotts takes its contracts seriously.”“I know. I have real information.” Harry crossed his arms. “And if I’m wrong, it’s no skin off Gringotts’ nose.”The goblin tapped his finger on the contract. “Indeed it does.” The goblin, pulled an inkwell from a drawer in the desk and used its middle finger’s long claw to sign the contract.Harry signed his own name and explained how the odd turbaned man would try to break into Gringotts.*Harry’s Visions were so focused on Gringotts that when a familiar little girl with red hair walked into Ollivanders, he was startled. The little girl had danced through his Visions in the worst way, one of the abused children that haunted him.The air was knocked from him as the girl looked nervously around.“Hestia Potter,” Garrick said, enlightening Harry. He didn’t listen to the rest of Garrick’s usual spiel, instead looking at the girl. She was stick thin and her clothes were ragged. Did no one else noticed how slumped her shoulders were? How her eyes kept going back and forth, constantly on alert for danger?But Harry didn’t say anything. Didn’t bring it up to Garrick and risk what charity he gave Harry be split with this girl. Or for him to get the Aurors.“Harry?” Garrick gave him a look.Harry nodded before turning towards the stacks. He focused on the near future, a string of Hestia trying wands that didn’t work to the one that did, flashing in his mind in an instant.“Holly and phoenix feather,” Harry said while retrieving the box. He didn’t give it directly to Hestia, instead to Garrick. The old wandmaker spoke about the wand’s properties, but Harry was already sneaking away.As much as it hurt for him to dip into his savings, Harry had to do something. He made his way to the trunk store and to the small section of lunch trunks, or lunch boxes, as the muggles would say. Harry waved off a store clerk, already knowing what to get. It wasn’t his first time doing this.After his purchase, his pockets felt lighter, and so did his heart.As Hestia Potter was leaving the Leaky Cauldron, Harry stepped forward.“From one kid in a poor situation to another,” he said while holding out the small lunch trunk. “It can store around 40 meals and preserve them for up to a year. Load up on Hogwarts food and you’ll at least have something to eat when summer comes.”Their green eyes met. Hers with a frantic hope and his with a warm sense of comradery.“Thank you,” she whispered before scurrying off.*His gamble with Gringotts paid off. Harry was finally able to open a vault without Black Family oversight.*“It would be a riot if Potter goes to Slytherin,” Marcus said while tipping his chair backwards in Harry’s living space.“It’s probably tough being famous.” But she was tough, from what he’d Seen. Harry didn’t envy her and just hoped his Visions of her would fall off. It was painful enough to see Marcus in Hogwarts, let alone anyone else.“Dumbledore would shite his pants,” Marcus continued, almost tipping the chair too far back.“The headmaster?” And then Harry was pulled into a Vision.An old man in garish colors, brushing spindly fingers through his beard. “This complicates matters.”The Vision ended and told him nothing, as most Visions did.“He hates Slytherins.” Marcus scowled, which made his already unfortunate looking mouth worse.“He hates 1/4th of the school? What kind of headmaster…?”“A bad one, that’s what kind of headmaster he is.”Maybe Harry should keep an eye on him…*There was something simmering in Harry’s mind. It wasn’t his usual Visions.Something about Hestia Potter made his brain itch. He’d helped a handful of abused kids before; why should she be different? It wasn’t because she was famous. He pitied her that. He knew people saw only what they wanted to, and the Girl Who Lived mythos was already strong. They wouldn’t see her as a abused, but as a fighter (as if that ever saved a child from abuse). Any scrape or bruise they saw on her would be credited to her fighting the “Dark”.Life wasn’t fair, and Harry knew that quite well.*Harry washed the sweat from his face, wishing he had a proper tub to bathe in. He was working on the enlargement charm to use on a sturdy bucket so he could bathe whenever he wanted, but he was always reluctant to learn new spells with his disability…But that wasn’t what caused Harry to sweat this evening.It had been that damn Vision again, the Vision of the world ending.It was like all life shriveled up, but he didn’t know why. He couldn’t even tell when it was. Wixen clothing was largely unchanged, but the muggles were dressed completely differently than what he’d seen when his dad was still alive.There was no convenient newspaper laying around or wixen casting Tempus to give him a date.Why was he seeing all this? He was just some near-squib who only eked out an existence because of his Seer abilities.Harry sat heavily on his bed.He wished he had someone to talk with about this. Garrick was only interested in his Visions when they pertained to wands. He had outright told Harry that he preferred the future to be a mystery. Harry worked a wedge into his own mind so that he didn’t see more of Garrick’s future beyond their shared work.At least Harry was getting a better handle on core-wood pairing. It was an art that needed magical sensitivity. In that vein, Garrick had been teaching him Legilimency, for now just how to slip into a mind, but eventually it would be focused on figuring out a person’s identity and their essence. Garrick hadn’t been able to really describe what essence was, saying Harry would understand when he felt it for the first time. Once he could read someone’s essence, it would be possible for him to pair them with a wand without his Visions.Garrick had also given him a couple books on Occlumency, which Harry took easily to since he had plenty of practice controlling his mind to force his Seer abilities.It helped that his magical pathways to his mind were already well trodden with his Visions.It gave Harry a bit of hope that he wasn’t a failure of a wizard. Along with Occlumency and Legilimency, there were other mind arts he wanted to pursue. Not many of them were useful to him, knocking someone out of their own mind or being able to sense the location of others from a distance. But being able to pull someone into his mind gave the possibility that he might be able to one day show someone one of his Visions.If he could do that, maybe he’d be able to figure out why the world was set on ending.

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The smell of wood shaving was familiar. Harry was gaining the ability to identify types of wood by their scent, not that this was a skill that was required. It just came with the job of wandmaker.His hands froze, whittling knife stilling as he was pulled into a Vision.“Once more you wish me to play the villain,” a dour man said to Dumbledore. “You’s have me grind down a child that is a spitting image of Lily, of a past that I have lost.” His face didn’t twist with emotion, nor did his deep voice change in tone. “Your obstacle course idea was foolish to begin with. Let the child be a child.”“It is not that simple, Severus.” The old man looked regretful, but Harry suspected he wasn’t.“Remember, Albus,” Severus said while turning away, “the Dark Lord had no qualms creating child-soldiers. Do not do the same.”The Vision ended, Harry went back to his whittling, but his mind was heavy.*Harry stared at his tea leaves. They were vague, but it would be an interesting day.The summer was always busy, July and August being their busiest months. It was still June though. Diagon Alley was flush with student fresh from Hogwarts. It was a bitter time for him. He tried to spend his time more in Knockturn, since few students ventured there, and when they did it was with parents that hurried them along.After getting cleaned up for the day, Harry headed for Ye Olde Curiosity Shop in Knockturn. He hadn’t been in a while since he’d gotten a Gringotts account, feeling more secure in his financial future, but it never hurt to try to scrape together a few new coins.The shopkeeper Shauna was manning the place. Harry greeted her in the sign language he knew. Shauna was a banshee and even a peep from her could shatter his eardrums. She was happy to see him and trusted him enough not to break anything. She went back to her bodice ripper book.Harry moved at a leisurely pace around the store.The shop had a familiar smell to it, a smell of age and reuse. Shauna often repaired the thing that later ended up in her shop. Not many could do that, and Harry was starting to get the sense that she had a wand, even if that was illegal by Ministry standards. Not that Harry would report her. The residence of Knockturn Alley were already harassed enough by the Aurors.Harry picked up trinkets that weren’t in the corded off area. The other area was for items that would activate when touched.When he picked the non-reactive items up, it was easier for him to focus his Visions.He found an amulet he could hawk to a woman that would help her get pregnant. She would overpay, but he knew it would make her dreams of motherhood come true.A plant of fine spun glass that a man would give to his wife.A dagger that had been used in rituals thousands of years ago.A miniature of Hogwarts Express that he could sell for a nice price before Christmas.He hovered his hand over the more reactive items, not letting Shauna or any customers see him.Yarn that tightened around someone gently, meant for swaddling blankets. He frowned at that, seeing that it would kill a baby because of being poorly knitted. He added it to his purchases. He wouldn’t resell it, but maybe could use it for something else.A cursed wedding ring that put people in a happy daze if they touched it for more than a few minutes. Its past was filled with being used in unhappy arranged marriages, usually without the other spouse being aware of what the ring did. He’d buy and dispose of it, but the cost was far too high for him.Instead, Harry looked into its future, Saw when it would next be used. His Vision didn’t reveal the name of the unhappy couple—the woman wanting no child and the man wanting a gaggle—but at least he’d remember their faces and would try to warn the wife in some way if he ever saw her.A prank bouncy ball that had a slippery jinx on it that would activate on random.Some items had tragedies. Some items were meant for steady hands. Some items were destined for the dustbin.Growing tired and at risk of a headache forming, he headed to the counter with his items.His eyes lazily went over some of the items hanging on the wall—a verdant butterfly.A Vision of a rough group of people—werewolves in their human form. A modified version of a potion—wolfsbane potion—the breakthrough, the ingredient of a dracis butterfly. A potion that when taken permanently rendered a werewolf’s saliva noncontagious, made werewolfism noncontagious.The Vision ended.Harry hadn’t broken his stride, the Vision only a moment in real time yet stretched out with clarity in his mind. He paused in front of a display, pulling the Vision to the front of his mind. A newspaper, such a rarity, such a convenience that no Vision had ever granted him before.The 13th of February 1995.Harry guided his Visions, a wide net, wider than he had in years. Flashes of people being beaten, lives being ruined before the potion was crafted.Harry asked Shauna to get the butterfly down for him to buy. He was well practiced at the levitation charm, but this felt too important to risk his disability somehow ruining this—plus a headache was starting to pulse behind his eyes.After paying, not even bothering to barter, he headed directly to the post-owl office. He re-wrote the small description in the newspaper on why the dracis butterfly was a vital part of stopping the contagion then sending it off anonymously to the man who made the breakthrough.Harry felt lighter as he returned to Ollivander’s.*The thing about his Visions was, once he actively changed it took a while for him to See those changes.So now here Harry was, sitting in his usual corner seat at Cafe Camembert, eating the cheapest thing they sold there, a simple grilled cheese, when a dour and familiar man approached him.Familiar though they’d never met.Familiar because he’d Seen him. Seen, but unseen.But the man’s dark eyes were squarely set on Harry.The man who had spoken to Dumbledore about playing the villain.*An invisible tendril connecting their eyes; Harry looking away. A probing mind magic that was so smooth Harry knew he couldn’t fight. Avoid avoid avoid eye-contact.Severus. Beyond the Vision with Dumbledore, he’d Seen him a few times. Interacting with Marcus, nothing groundbreaking, just a confirmation that he was a professor at Hogwarts.The professor pulled up a chair and sat down. Harry still didn’t meet his eyes, but could feel his stare, tracing his features.A Vision, a glimpse. Three Hogwarts students, young. One was Severus, standing behind a girl with bright red hair. She was screaming at another boy for bullying, looking just like Hestia Potter, but red-faced.The Vision turned angles, a boy that looked surprisingly like Harry.Harry didn’t jump to conclusion that the boy was his father. He knew he was adopted, but also knew that all the Blacks looked the same and there was blood adoption potions.In truth, Harry had never bothered looking into the subject of his birth parents. His dad was his dad. It was as simple as that.Harry brushed the thought away.He focused on the point that the professor could be here about a grudge, coming to take it out on the last member of the Black Family. No jumping to conclusions, though.“I am Severus Snape, a potions master and you sent me an anonymous letter and specimen,” it was very straight forward and not at all what Harry expected. The name on the newspaper had been different, something Harry had already forgotten. “You’re not a potions master and no one knows I’ve been looking into werewolfism, so how did a child that has had no formal education or ability to know of my research contact me with a solution?”Harry took a bite of his grilled cheese, forcing Visions, flickers before he found one he could use.“I’m a Knockturn street rat. I make a habit of knowing what people buy.” Harry grinned deviously.“I can tell when someone is lying.” Snape’s voice made Harry believe him. A master Legilimens could do that and his brush into Harry’s mind had been so gentle that if Harry’s magic wasn’t overwhelming pushed into his own mind already, he wouldn’t have noticed it.“Look, I don’t want any credit or anything. Just think of it as a boon—I’m just trying to make the world a better place. That’s all you need to know.”Despite knowing Snape was a Legilimens, Harry’s eyes met his. An instinct to make eye-contact to establish trust. But he at least had the good sense to put all of his magic into his mind shields.There was a beat of quiet eye-contact between them, then something like shock flitted through his expression. Harry’s jaw tensed. Had he seen—But Harry didn’t even let the thought take root.“Just leave me alone. It’s not a good look for a school teacher to be sniffing after a some kid who doesn’t go to Hogwarts.” Harry stood and left, heart racing. Snape didn’t follow him, but Harry had much to worry about.*Harry spent the next few weeks focusing on Severus Snape and got a sense of the man through his Visions.Harry came to know that he was a brooding man and an unkind teacher. The latter part was almost soothing. If all the professors at Hogwarts were like that, maybe it was a good thing he never went.Harry Knew that Snape was deep in thought. The ability seemed to be manifesting because of how hard Harry was focusing on him. Or it might be because he had upped his training in both Legilimency and Occlumency. He couldn’t let anyone else get in his mind.There was also new Visions that gave Harry pause. A giant snake killing a crying Ravenclaw girl just with its eyes. Marcus on winter break telling Harry about the petrification at Hogwarts. An even smaller girl laying on a wet stone floor decaying—Harry felt sick.He had to do something! Harry couldn’t do anything about the end of the world, but maybe he could do something about this.*“You’re being weird,” Max said. They were sitting side by side behind Max’s family’s stall in Harpy’s Bazaar.“That’s because I am weird.” He would be long dead if he wasn’t.“Weirder than usual.” Max gave him a critical look.“I’m okay with that.” Harry shrugged and Max rolled his eyes in return.It was true, though. Harry was feeling jittery, over exerted. He’d been forcing Visions at an alarming pace. Visions about the snake and dead children. Visions to see what Snape would do. Visions to keep up with his wandcraft apprenticeship.The Hogwarts Visions about the snake had him Looking both forward and back. He now knew the Ravenclaw girl who had been killed had happened in the past, along with the face of the boy who controlled the snake.It was hard to get a read on the boy, the young man. It was like he didn’t exist after the girl was killed, but Harry didn’t See his death. It was all very strange.Some of his Visions of Snape were difficult to watch, difficult to handle Seeing battles where people were killed and tortured. That was in the past, mostly, but not all of them. Voldemort was going to rise again, somehow. That was a whole other headache and not for a few years yet if Harry judged the age Snape looked in them.So on Harry’s plate was, in order of appearance: continuing his apprenticeship, watching Snape to see if he tried to do something to Harry, stopping the snake from killing again, do something about Voldemort, and stop the end of the world. So yeah, he was a bit over exerted.Max nudged him. “Where’s your head, mate?”“Thinking about wand cores. Have you heard of a snake with eyes that can kill?” It was an idle thought and one he’d rather not use his energy trying to See the answer. And Max was a magical beast lover.“Sounds like a basilisk. Thinking of taking a trip to Greece?” he joked.A Vision of a man speaking in a language Harry didn’t know as he put a frog or toad on top of an egg. Harry didn’t bother trying to interpret that.“I’m pretty sure making a wand core from it would cost thousands of galleons. Have you been holding out on me?”Harry grinned. “You know me. The goblins would start another rebellion if I decided to pull my money out of Gringotts.”They shared a laugh and Harry tried to sooth his frayed magic.*A Vision, one of countless.“Petunia is a foul creature. Are you are certain Potter was no other blood family on that side?” Snape asked, his dark eyes narrowed as he looked at Dumbledore.“It is not ideal, but Petunia is all young Hestia has.”Snape said nothing in response, turning away and hastening out the door.*Harry had come down with a cold from pushing himself so much, but sleeping had granted him Visions in his dreams. They were never as clear as the ones when he was awake, and he was certain he’d faint if he tried to force them now, but he had to get up and do something.Those earlier Visions of the little girl writing in the book, the girl being controlled by the book—and in his dreams he’d Seen where she’d gotten it. And it was happening today.Garrick scolded him for being out of bed in such a state, but Harry couldn’t spare a moment. The sign on Flourish and Blotts matched a dream-haze, the one in his Vision and the one in front of him overlapping. The date and the announcement of a book signing.Blushing witches with the occasional wizard too. Excitement running through the bookstore. Many saw and avoided his sickly appearance. He didn’t try to imagine what he looked like, but knew it must be wretched.A cauldron being knocked over, books spilling. Harry stumbled forward, his hands joining many other pairs that were picking up books. A blur from the fever. He couldn’t count the hands. Small freckled ones. One in gloves that looked soft.The gloves slipped the black book into the cauldron. Harry shuffled other books into the cauldron. His mind tick, tick, ticking away. Which book was it? He couldn’t see into the cauldron to identify the book. His Vision showed him grabbing the wrong one. He couldn’t See the change.And maybe he sensed the essence like Garrick had been trying to teach him. Maybe he was uncovering some sort of new ability. Maybe it was pure luck.The book was in his hand then the fold of his robes.Pale, pale eyes.The man didn’t follow Harry out, though.

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Harry’s sickness lasted for months. The book, a diary, was tucked away in his Gringotts’ vault. Harry was defenseless. Visions lacing in and out of his waking. He spent most of his money at St. Mungo’s, magical exhaustion mixed with an ongoing fever and a touch of congenital bullshit from the Black side of his family.How Harry hadn’t Seen the sickness before it came on was improbable, but possible. All his Visions had been focused outward, focused on changing things bigger than himself.Maybe it had been a Change brought on by stealing the diary.Maybe it was what happened when he pushed his Visions too hard.Maybe it was just rotten luck.But Halloween brought no message in blood written on the wall, Snape hadn’t approached him again, and yes, the world was still ending, but that was years from now.*Harry had a few things on his mind.The Triwizard Tournament in about a year. A “lovely” Vision of Hestia Potter flanked by two other Hufflepuffs. Hestia was crying about having to face a dragon.Lockhart, Harry was blackmailing him. Harry hadn’t had to provide any evidence. He had come at it from a different angle than when he’d sent Snape a letter. Nothing traceable like his handwriting. Because apparently there was a spell for that.Lockhart was infinitely less capable than Snape, but Harry still did what he could. It was a good habit to stay hidden, anyway. And Lockhart was going to bite off more than he could chew just in time for the fabled DADA curse.Marcus was going to love it when Lockhart tried to “expose” Snape as a Death Eater. In front of the whole school. “Expose” an open secret, and with a bit of word play on Snape’s part, Lockhart exposed his own secret.Harry was blackmailing him for obliviating all those people and stealing their stories, and everyone would know. And Lockhart would have much more to deal with than wondering about a blackmailing that petered out with the shit storm he was going to unleash on himself.Regardless, it was good money.He had that well in hand, but there was the whole Sirius Black thing…He didn’t know what the deranged man would do. All he needed was another member of the Black Family to fuck his life over again.Sirius was in the throes of Black Madness. Harry couldn’t get a read on him. It was like he barely existed. The Visions of him were sparse. Attacking a painting, ranting at how sorry he was, and him being overtaken by Dementors.No contacting Gringotts or any one at all to fuck up Harry’s life.If Harry just left it alone, the problem would solve itself.Harry wanted it to solve itself.But he also knew that Sirius Black was innocent. A Vision of a very famous night, aftermath and an argument between a traitor and the man he was about to frame. A blast of magic and a street in chaos.Harry was, well, essentially good. He thought so, at least. And… Harry had Looked into Sirius’ past with dad.There was love there. Harry Saw that Sirius was the odd-man out in the Black Family. He hated his mother, the same one that killed Harry’s dad. He fought against the cloying, yet all encomposing gravity of the Black Family. The tempting riches. The pureblood ideology that instilled a false sense of superiority. The wealthy of knowledge they horded in their libraries.Dad and Sirius had untangled themselves from it.Would Harry have met Sirius if he hadn’t been put away? Would Harry have seen him as a fun cousin? Would he have taken Harry in after Walburga murdered—But Harry knew better than to linger on What Ifs.What could Harry do?He was a 16 year old nobody and feared bringing any attention to himself. A near-squib with only two friends. Marcus, who was going to be under his father’s thumb when he graduated this summer, and fulfill a marriage contract… He wouldn’t have time for Harry beyond letters. Max had even less power than Harry to deal with this situation. And Garrick wanted nothing to do with Harry’s Visions.If there was someway to share his Visions safely.Maybe, maybe, Harry could used his mind arts to push the Vision into someone else’s head, but that would require direct eye contact and risk his identity and ability coming to light. He just… He didn’t know if Sirius would try to destroy what life he had scraped together. He couldn’t risk everything falling apart again.Harry laid in his bed, the familiar sound of wood-work downstairs soft and comforting.Visions of Sirius were near impossible. Harry needed to look around him. Maybe Look for newspaper articles or meetings at Hogwarts about him?He had to thread together the focus of newspapers and Sirius in a careful balance that wouldn’t send his Sight to just Seeing Sirius. It was difficult.He closed his eyes, still wary about pushing his Visions too far again and ending up sick.Visions of the Daily Prophet reporting on the break-out.A Vision in a few years of a mass break-out.Dementors at Hogwarts?But there were too many articles. Harry didn’t read the Prophet personally, but knew it was far from reliable.He did get a lead though. Sirius would be spotted around Hogwarts.Harry redirected his Visions again, once more trying to strike a balance. Hogwarts staff meetings having to do with Sirius. They were much more informative.Snape tearing down a professor with a scarred face—Snape arguing that Lupin was probably helping Sirius—Harry shifted his focus to Lupin.Drinking the wolfsbane potion—Lupin buying a gravestone for Sirius.Staring at a picture of four boys, him, two people Harry didn’t recognize, and the hole in place of the fourth boy’s face—“I loved you,” an adult Lupin said in a broken voice.Visions of pranks and happy school days.Lupin, alone in the woods, begging Sirius’ forgiveness.A night of drinking with those three other teenage boys, Lupin congratulating them on their animagus abilities, telling them to change—Sirius a dog, his essence changing as his body did.Harry took a deep breath and sat up. Was that why Harry hadn’t been able to track Sirius?He went to the ice-box and took out a butter beer. He sipped at the drink, thinking. Two things came together:1. Sirius screaming in Azkaban that the rat was the real traitor.2. One of the boys in the last vision having transforming into a rat.*It was early August of 1993 when Harry was flagged down by a young red-head. Hestia Potter had stuck her head out of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and was calling out for him.She wasn’t someone he sought out in his Visions so he hadn’t seen her much beyond the occasional one relating to Snape or Marcus.Harry looked behind him to see if she was talking to someone else, but it was definitely him. Harry put his hands in his pockets and headed over.He was wary though, wary to be around someone so famous that could complete change his life for the worse. He lightly touched her mind, but she was just excited to see him and thank him for the lunch-trunk he’d given her years ago.“I’m buying you ice cream and there’s no ifs, ands, or buts about it!” She took his arm and dragged him into the parlour after introductions. Harry let her maneuver him to the counter. “Get him whatever he wants, Mr. Fortescue. It’s on me!”Harry nearly laughed at how puffed up with pride she looked.“Peanut butter and strawberries, Harry?” Fortescue asked.“Yes, sir.” He didn’t even get a chance to pull out his money pouch before Hestia was slapping coins onto the counter.Harry had always gotten the sense Fortescue didn’t like him since Harry mostly went in there to get a taster-spoon and didn’t buy, but he was reevaluating Harry. Being around Hestia was already having an impact.Hestia waited until they were both at the table to unleash her enthusiasm. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for the lunch-box! It has saved me so many times! I swore that if I saw you again I’d—I’d I don’t know! But, thank you so much!”“You’re welcome, but maybe you’ve had a bit too much ice cream. You’re vibrating in your seat.” He took a bite of his ice cream and Hestia gripped the seat of her chair to stay still. “It was nothing. I have a knack for spotting someone in need and getting them what they need.”“At least let me pay you back! I saw how much one of these costs and it’s way too much!” She grabbed her money pouch and plopped it on the table, opening it.“No need for that. Just pass on the good deed.” All the reward he needed was having less Visions of those children suffering—and, he supposed, them doing better.Hestia let out a grumpy noise. “I have to pay you back, though. It’s only right.”“No, it’s only right that you get the things you need to not just survive, but live.” To live like Harry had when his dad was still alive. To live like Harry was slowly eking out of this world. “You’re just a kid, and no one deserves to go hungry.”“You’re a kid too! Why haven’t I ever seen you at Hogwarts?”Harry’s heart became heavy. He’d usually go with the excuse that he didn’t have enough money, but that would cause Hestia to be up in arms. Not that Harry had Seen that, he just figured.“I don’t have enough magic to go to Hogwarts,” he said quietly.He waited for her look of disgust, but it never appeared. She looked sad instead.“That sucks. Mr. Filch at Hogwarts is a squib and everyone is mean to him. I hope people aren’t mean to you.” Yeah, she was definitely a softy.“No one pushes me around,” anymore, “and I have other talents.” Harry shrugged. At least he had ice cream to get through this awkward conversation.“I don’t know why people are so mean about squibs and muggles. It’s silly! They’re just people!”“Yes they are,” Harry commented lightly.“It’s just—It’s just they were unlucky. But they should be treated just the same!” Her face was going red. He could tell this was something she felt strongly about.“Well, you will be a lady of the Wizengamot. Maybe you can change how muggles and squibs are seen when you take up your Ladyship.” Hestia had plenty of political and social capital, unlike Harry.“Wizen-what?”Harry raised an eyebrow. “The Wizengamot? They’re the legislative branch of wizarding Britain. They occasionally reach into judicial branch duties when they’re feeling nosy.”“I don’t know any of the words you just said.”Harry chuckled as she crossed her arms. She was a cute kid and her being so tiny made her seem even younger.“To simplify, the legislative branch makes the laws and the judicial branch judges the laws and those who break them. When you’re 17 you can help make the laws—the rules because you have a spot in the Wizengamot. Has no one told you?” Definitely not her muggle relatives, but this felt like something she should learn at Hogwarts.“No one tells me anything,” she groused.A blink of a Vision. Hestia curled up in a hospital bed, rocking herself. “I don’t understand, I don’t understand,” she said through sobs.The Vision ended.“Yeah, people don’t take kids seriously. I’m just surprised that your Wizengamot proxy hasn’t reached out to you.” She gave him another confused look, but this time her nose was wrinkled. “A proxy votes on laws for you since you’re not old enough.”“People are using my name to make laws?”“Probably.” Harry finished off the last of his ice cream. “Let’s go to Flourish and Blotts to get you a book on our government. Then I can help you write to the Ministry to find out who your proxy is, okay?”She sighed. “Yeah, okay.”So Harry led her through Diagon Alley, sifting through Visions to make sure no one took a picture of them together.Then he Saw Hestia being chosen for the Triwizarding Tournament and dying in the maw of a dragon.*Harry was nearly 17. Nearly an adult. He couldn’t keep living above Ollivander’s.And, well, Harry Saw a boyfriend in his future. Ollivander’s had thin walls and Harry wanted his own place now that he had a steady stream of money. True, the Lockhart money would end soon, but wizarding property was cheap when it wasn’t located in one of the allies. The real cost was maintaining the architecture magic. Space expansions, protective wards, spells in place to maintain the impossible.So what made the best places to rent were flats that were once muggle, thus had been built with safety regulations, but were now owned by wizards.There were a few muggle-wixen towns, and with his Visions he could tour them in a fraction of the time. He ended up in Loke Alley. It was far off the beaten path in London and well priced.He did have a public utility he had to pay though, access to the Floo network. Harry couldn’t apparate with his disability. His magical pathways were too focused in his head. True, he’d learned a handful of helpful spells over the years, but none of those ran the risk of splinching.When Harry moved into the flat, it felt so empty. He had a few knicknacks, his things from Ollivander’s, and his most prized possession: his dad’s wand. He hung it on the wall in his bedroom. Harry wished he had a picture of his dad, but never had been able to get a hold of one. He’d never made it into the newspapers or did anything wixen considered significant enough to have his picture hanging somewhere. And Walburga had destroyed the pictures her immediate family had.There were a few pictures hidden away by Irma Black, his dad’s mom, before she died. Now they were in a Black vault that Harry would never risk trying to get in by claiming it as an inheritance.Harry had his Visions, and those were better than any moving photo.*The year ticked over into 1994. He knew it would be a busy one.*It was the spring holiday of 1994 and Harry once again hated how awkward it was trying to do something he did in a Vision. By knowing about the Vision he could change it, but it wasn’t easy to See the change once he made it when it was close in time to actually doing the catalyst change.And if he wanted the Vision to happen that he’s in, doing so felt very awkward. Like trying to copy choreograph where only he knew the dance.But this was important. All the changes he’d needed to make to the future to get this outcome—A flier about a sale on rat medicine.Sending a gift basket of meat and cheeses to an empty home in Hogsmeade, left on the stoop—enough to distract Sirius from hearing that the Weasley’s weren’t staying at Hogwarts during the break.An anonymous tip to another animagus.A false report to the Aurors to get them in the vicinity.A former classmate of Pettigrew’s, Bertam Aubrey—a Ravenclaw tempted by a rare book Harry had.And so the destined time arrived.Rita Skeeter was on the look-out for the tip she'd been given, quill poised. Her photographer looking tired beside her.The Aurors were coming down the road, too far away for Harry to hear what they were saying.Harry and Bertram Aubrey meeting eyes.“It’s that bloody cat’s fault,” a boy groused to his older brother.“There’s no need for that language,” Percy, Harry’s future boyfriend, scolded."Mr. Aubrey," Harry greeted while passing the two Weasleys, bumping into the younger one.The rat fell from his hand with a squeak and made a run for it."Scabbars!"A blink of blue light from the reporter, Pettigrew's untransfiguring. Harry turned to the side, putting his back to the photographer right before the camera flashed. Shielding himself from another spike of pain lancing into his head."Pettigrew!" Mr. Aubrey shouted in a strained voice. "But Sirius Black killed you!" The name of Undesirable Number 1 caught the attention of the Aurors."Bozo! Take a picture of his left arm!" The photographer ran over as Pettigrew tried to transform again—but Skeeter was quick with her spells.Pettigrew squealing out excuses and begging, eyes flicking between Skeeter and the two Aurors.Harry escaped into the pet shop, feeling bad that he didn't catch a fainting Percy, but he had to go before the Aurors thought to question witnesses.The cashier abandoned their post to see what the commotion was, leaving the back of the store, and more importantly the back door, unguarded. Harry slipped out unnoticed and took a deep breath of relief.

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PETTIGREW: ALIVE AND A TRAITORLACK OF TRAIL LEAKEDSIRIUS BLACK FOUND INNOCENT*Harry was manning the shop in the early months of summer 1994. Garrick trusted him enough to be able to sense a wixen’s essence enough to pair them with a wand.He might not be able to give the “full experience” of telling them what wands their parents had or say cryptic things, but he could get the job done.He wished he had something to do with his hands. Crafting wands was done strictly in the back of the shop to maintain trade-secrets. He wasn’t able to concentrate on any of his books. Both of his friends couldn’t visit and he wasn’t going to officially meet Percy for another week.It didn’t help that a new Vision was itching his brain, one where Sirius Black finds out about him. It wasn’t… bad. Sirius was happy to get to know his favorite uncle’s son. Very welcoming.But that was something Harry hadn’t felt in a long time. He couldn’t get over his fear of someone in the Black Family ruining his life again.Harry was fairly certain the goblins wouldn’t renege on their deal with him. He didn’t See any letters from them in the future and he Saw himself visiting his vault with even more gold then he last did—probably because of the bet he was going to make on the Quidditch World Cup. He hadn’t been betting on quidditch for the last couple years so that no one recognized him when he made the improbably bet and won.But another Vision was about to happen. Harry glanced at the clock and calendar he’d insisted Garrick put in the store.A muggle-born and her family came in, but more interesting was who was leading them. The adolescent’s wand was all wrong for him.“Thank you so much, young man,” the muggle woman said to him.“You,” Harry said while pointing at him, “stay here. Your wand is fighting you.” Neville Longbottom tried to argue, but Harry wasn’t hearing any of it. “Do you want to perform magic or feel like a squib for the rest of your life?” Feel what Harry feared.“It sounds like he knows his business,” the muggle father said with a laugh.“I do.” Harry smiled at the young muggle-born. “I am Harry Grey, Ollivander’s apprentice. He has complete confidence that I can match wands.” The muggle-born was bouncing on her feet. “May I have your name, young lady?” he asked while sensing her essence. Her magic was fluttery, but pulled to a logic that would serve her well in runes and spell craft.“Mary Martin,” she said, hands twisting at the hem of her shirt.“Mary Martin, welcome to the Wizarding World.” Harry didn’t bother with all the spells Garrick used. They were just for show. He thought it was more impressive that he found their wand on the first try. He ghosted his fingers over the boxes that were neatly slotted in the walls, feeling their essences. The yellowed parchment labeling them gave off the faint smell of vanilla. “Ah, ebony and dragon heart-string. Perfect for runes and spell craft.”He handled the box with reverence, loving how excited Mary looked. He set it on the counter (which was low to accommodate children’s height) and opened the box with a flourish.Mary hesitated. Harry gave her an encouraging nod. Slowly she took the wand and Harry felt their essences join like a key in a lock.“Give it a flick,” he prompted.And a beautiful swirl of colors came forth, lighting the dimmed store.Mary gripped the wand to her chest smiling like the sun.The parents paid for the wand. Harry bid them good-bye and good luck.Neville was nervously shifting. “It’s my dad’s wand—It’s an honor—”“It’s fighting you. That wand fit your father, but not you.” Harry canted his head to the side. “Do you think your father would have wanted you to use the wrong wand?”Neville rolled the wand in his hand, not saying anything.“You don’t have to buy anything,” though Harry was sure he would, “but it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.”Neville put his wand in his holster, which had the initials FCJL, and walked over. Harry took in his essence. It was stifled by his father’s wand and pressure from childhood—a desperation for his magic with a twinge of denial. It pained Harry, but he Knew how to unravel that pain.Harry went back to the stacks, Neville’s new wand practically lassoing Harry towards it. It would have been an obvious fit even if Harry didn’t have his Sight.“Cherry and unicorn hair, a good fit for someone who has endless potential,” Neville wilted slightly, but Harry muscled on, “and a knack for herbology.” Neville stilled. “Go on.”Neville’s hand shook before he grasped the wand. Magic flowed from the wand to him, trying desperately to never be apart again.Neville gasped.“Go ahead. Any spell will do.”The movement he made with his wand was unsure. “A—avis,” he stuttered, but beautiful flock of doves flew forth.“Wonderful,” Harry said while dispelling them, a spell Garrick made him learn, along with ones to restore the shop to its former glory after wands in wrong hands acted up. “That wand is made for you. What do think?”Neville was still staring at the wand before hastily wiping away tears. “I’ll take it!”*Today was going to be a good day. Finally he was going to properly meet Percy. Harry was wearing his favorite robes. They were open and navy blue, open to show off his smart outfit beneath. He thought the vest made him look fit. He wore his black hair as his father had, in a tail at the base of his neck. It wasn’t tight, letting the slight waves show through.Despite having a general idea of what was going to happen, Harry was still nervous. Harry was 17 and he’d never been kissed—never had the time to date.Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was not a store that Harry frequented. She didn’t buy used and her quality of clothing was middling, nothing he could resell for a meaningful profit. And Malkin had seen him around the allies and considered him as one of the street rats that were either squibs or too poor to go to Hogwarts. She gave him a look, even though he was dressed nicely and even had a gleaming pocket watch chain sticking out.Harry ignored her and went through the mannequins and racks, slowly moving towards Percy. The other man was whispering calculations as he held different outfits.“That’s not very good quality. It will pill.” Harry rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, showing him the poor quality.“It’s well priced, though.” Percy glanced over at him and blushed at how close Harry was standing to him.“Not for quality over time. I only shop at Malkin’s for her handkerchiefs since they're imported from the muggle world, not that Malkin would ever admit that," Harry said while gesturing to the handkerchiefs. "They really stand out compared to the rest of the things here. I personally do my clothing shopping at Hookes & Eis. When they transfigure fabric they add or subtract mass so that it isn't awkwardly thin or thick in areas." Harry touched the sleeve of Percy's shirt, where it was a bit thin. Percy's blush only darkened. "I'm heading there now if you want to come with me?"Harry looked at him from beneath his eyelashes, just like a Vision of Sirius taught him."Uh, sure."“Great,” Harry looped their arms and started leading Percy away. “It’s in Knockturn Alley, but don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.” Harry pulled him a little closer.This was a good start. It was just too bad that they’d eventually break up because Percy wanted children and Harry didn’t.*There was a small owl perched outside the window of Harry’s kitchen. It wasn’t from Garrick or Gringotts, which was where all his other mail came from. No, this was from Sirius Black.Harry let in the owl, already having retrieved a treat for it. It hooted in thanks, but didn’t leave. Sirius was expecting a response.The letter boiled down to asking for them to meet if Harry wasn’t a, “pureblooded wanker” which Harry definitely wasn’t. Harry knew he couldn’t refuse or ignore the letter. Sirius was like a dog with a bone, which was not a joke.He would come banging on Harry’s door and following him around in September which was a few months off, but just the Visions of it annoyed Harry. It was better to deal with this head-on.Harry put quill to parchment.
Hello Cousin,

I am no pureblood wanker. I don’t know my blood status since I was adopted. Dad used a blood adoption potion on me. I don’t care if one of my parents was a squib or werewolf. The only parent I had was dad.

When I was 9 your mother, Walburga, killed him. I lived on my own for a while, but I was lucky enough to land an apprenticeship with Garrick Ollivander. I’m a wandmaker and have my own flat now. I make a good living and I don’t want any money from you.

I am willing to meet with you. I’ll be at Cafe Camembert this coming Friday at noon. If possible could you look for a picture of my dad for me? When Walburga killed him she also burned down the flat we were living in and I don’t have any pictures of him.

Sincerely,

Harry Grey

Journeyman Wandmaker

PS: Please do not bring any attention to me. I am a very private person.
There, that was good enough. He sent the owl off with a letter and hoped this wouldn’t blow up in his face.*Harry did not want to have anything to do with Voldemort, but Visions kept tangling their futures together. The bloody Vision of Voldemort ripping Harry’s mind apart to try to see his Visions. Voldemort cackling madly as Harry told him he was the only one who could save the world. Malfoy, the blond man from the bookstore, pointing Voldemort his way when questioned about the diary.He was a mad-man.He was also going to be behind Hestia being forced into the Triwizard Tournament—where she would die in the first challenge.Harry didn’t know how to stop it.He already Saw that no one would listen to him about the Cup being sabotaged, not even Percy—because why would anyone believe Harry, the near-squib who had no name of worth. He couldn’t tell anyone he was a Seer, but he couldn’t just let Hestia die.He saw that if he tried to tell Sirius, then he’d tell Dumbledore—and the headmaster would force Hestia to participate regardless—having his own hand in it.Dumbledore scared him in a different way than Voldemort did. He was a man in power who used that power to narrow child protection services. He let bullying run rampant, so long as the bullies were Gryffindors. Harry Saw how he collected people, influencing them while they were still in school so that by the time they graduated they were dedicated to him.And Harry Saw that Harry would be his crown jewel if Dumbledore ever realized he was a Seer.*Hestia with a fellow Hufflepuff.“Everything was fine until third year,” Hestia said softly. “Those stupid dementors and now this!”“Try to think about the positives. Cedric said you two were a team,” the other Hufflepuff said, running her hand up and down Hestia’s back. “We’ll get through this.”*A grilled cheese wasn’t cutting it right now. Harry had to remind himself that he didn’t have to keep eating like he was on a shoe-string budget. Garrick was paying him more since he was doing more, the Lockhart money had stopped but would last, and he would have a large pay-off from the Quidditch World Cup in a month.Sirius arrived for their meeting. He had a manic look in his eyes that Harry didn’t like. The waitress came over and Harry ordered himself a shepherds pie and Sirius ordered the same. The man was unhealthily thin, but at least he was alive—something that would not be the case if Harry hadn’t intervened.“Can I hug you? I want to hug you.” Sirius was bouncing his leg, causing the whole table to shake.“Uh, no thanks. I’m good.” Harry couldn’t remember the last time he was hugged. He didn’t want one from this stranger. A stranger, despite Harry knowing so much about him.Sirius pouted, looking just like a begging dog despite being in his human form. He brightened back up quickly. “Pictures!” He pulled a thick envelope from the inner pocket of his leather jacket. “My friend, Remus, helped me find them!”He practically shoved them into Harry’s hand.Harry didn’t have the ability to hold back his tears if he looked at them now. That was something he needed to do in private.“It’s so good to have family who isn’t a bigot! Of course, there’s Andy, who you have to meet, and her daughter, but I don’t want Andy to see how I’ve,” he paused, “changed.” His smile turned fragile. “Tell me all about you! Ohhh, and I’m sorry my hag of a mother killed Uncle Alphard. He was a good man.”“Right.” Harry didn’t know what to say. He didn’t like thinking about how his dad died. He also didn’t appreciate “hag” being used as an insult. He knew plenty of hags that he’d done business with. They’d only teased that they’d eat him when he was really small. None of them followed through and he still wondered if they really did eat children. “I love making wands, but a lot of it entails trade secrets I can’t talk about. Garrick Ollivander took me in. I really struggled before that.”“And you never went to Hogwarts? All children from the Black Family can go for free since Phineas Black made it the price of his employment instead of having paycheck when he was headmaster.”Harry’s heart sank. “I couldn’t risk going to Hogwarts when Lord Black was still alive, and by the time he died I was too old.” Harry shrugged, not wanting to admit that he was disabled, not wanting to risk someone knowing he was vulnerable.“That blows, Hogwarts is…” He shook his head. “But I can get you a tutor now! It’s only right! And—”“Thanks, but no thanks.” Harry tried to smile reassuringly, but from Sirius’ expression, he hadn’t pulled it off. “I’m already so busy with my job, and I know the basics.”“You’re only 17, right? How much practice could you have?”Harry grinned. “I work in a wand shop. Do you really think I had to wait ‘til I was 17 to use one?”Sirius barked out a laugh that, somehow, put Harry at ease.*A Vision of a bundled up creature, deformed and unlike anything human. Harry Knew it was Voldemort, Voldemort before he returned.“Her blood or her death,” the thing rasped to a thin blond man who swayed on his feet. “Her blood would work best for the ritual, save Dumbledore’s.” The rictus of his scowl revealing stumpy teeth. “You’ve done well in capturing Moody. Remember your godfather’s mannerisms. It would do us no good if Dumbledore catches you.”“I won’t fail you, master,” the man simpered.*“I still think it’s too soon,” Harry argued weakly. He knew he wouldn’t win this one, didn’t even need to See it to know. Harry liked how pushy Percy was or, more accurately, he liked that he kept getting Harry to go outside his comfort-bubble. “What if they don’t like me?”“My parents will love you! It’s Fred and George you’ll have to watch out for. They like to pull pranks.” Percy’s nose crinkled. “They’re so smart, but waste all their time being childish.”“Maybe because they’re still children?” Harry said carefully. “You’ve got to let people make their own mistakes, or they won’t learn.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t have any siblings, so I don’t know what it is like to want to protect them from themselves.”Percy didn’t respond right away, which Harry figured was a good thing. His boyfriend was a bit high strung. He would start “living” eventually though.“Ready?” Percy asked while taking Harry’s hand. Harry nodded. He did not like apparation, but it was more convenient than floo or knight bus travel.Harry was twisted and pushed through a tube, or at least it felt like that.“Oh Percy!” a middle aged red-headed woman said brightly. “And this must be your boyfriend!” She engulfed Harry in a hug.“Mum.” Percy’s voice cracked as he spoke.“Err, yeah, I’m Harry.” He had no idea how he was supposed to react to being hugged—couldn’t even remember the last time he was hugged.“You must call me Molly!” She released him, but only far enough to hold him by his shoulders and give him a once over. “You’re a bit skinny dear, but we can fix that!”“Molly, let the lad go,” a man that had to be Percy’s dad said. Behind him was a smattering of snickering children. Harry’s stomach twisted. The only girl in the group looked like the girl who he’d seen rotting on the floor in a Vision years ago.Harry tried to smile and Arthur, as he introduced himself as, named off his other children.“Dad, you got it wrong—” one twin said.“—I’m Fred. He’s George!”Harry skimmed their minds then their essences so he’d always know which was which. It would be an easy way to score brownie-points with them. Fred’s essence was lively, while George’s was deeper.“Oh you two!” Molly huffed. “Now hurry along, everyone! We don’t want to miss our portkey!” Molly began wrangling them expertly.The other two people taking the portkey cam into view Harry’s eyes were solely on the teen that would be Hogwarts’ champion. He would live, but Fleur Delacour would be the winner.The all gathered up and were soon at the campgrounds for the 1994 Quidditch World Cup.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Molly’s questions had been brutal. He felt like she’d interrogated him for a high-clearance job rather than the small chat people used to get to know someone. She hadn’t been pleased with him being a wandmaker, despite it being prestigious and steady work.She was also open with her distaste that he didn’t have any OWLs or NEWTs. He finally had to play the orphan card to get her to back off.Percy was apologetic, but really hadn’t done anything to stop her. Harry Knew that would be the case, but was still disappointed. Percy needed to untangle himself from placing his self-worth in Molly’s opinions.When Percy was distracted helping set up lunch, Harry volunteered to get butter-beer and he “accidentally” caught the twins trying to sneak away, at the very moment they were talking about making a bet with Bagman.“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Harry said, startling them both. “Bagman is in debt.” Both of their faces fell. “But,” Harry pretended to hesitate, “I was about to put in a bet myself. I can put one in for you and give you the ticket if you want to come with?”The twins looked at each other, having a silent conversation that Harry’s Legilimency get the gist of. They figured that anyone dating Percy had to be a goody-two-shoes who wouldn’t try to scam them.“All I ask is that you lay off Percy. Having a new job and trying to live up to your parent’s expectations is stressful.”Another silent conversation.“We’ll be good—”“—but only for a year.”“I’ll take it.”Harry led them through the crowd. They were whispering to each other. He couldn’t hear it over the churning, excited fans, but he didn’t See them playing any tricks on him.The line wasn’t too long at the betting booths. Harry focused on his Vision of the quidditch game ending, just in case. It had the same outcome, not that he thought anything he could do would change it.“What’s your bet?” he asked them right before they reached the front of the line.“Ireland wins, but Krum catches the snitch.” Fred looked to George and received a nod in agreement.Harry grinned. “Ballsy, I like it. I think I’ll make the same bet!”The twins watched on as he placed a bet with their money, too young to do it themselves. It was a surprising amount of money for teenagers with no jobs and with poorer parents. Harry didn’t bother to Look where they got the money. He liked the occasional mystery.Harry handed them the slip and they talked excitedly together, distracted.“Same bet but, hmm,” he pretended to think, “a ten point difference.”The unlikely odds would make the pay-off all the more sweet. That, and all the other gambling associations he’d put the same bet in with already.*As they entered the top box in the stadium, Ron lightly greeted Hestia who was sitting with Sirius and another Hufflepuff girl.Then Hestia did a double take. “Harry!” she jumped from her seat and engulfed him in a hug. Harry patted her on the back. Two hugs in one day. Harry was a bit overwhelmed.“Hannah, Sirius! This is Harry, the one I told you about!” She pulled him over to them. “Harry, this is my girlfriend, Hannah, and my godfather, Sirius!”Sirius’ mind was loud, excited that he had a reason for them to know each other that wouldn’t draw questions.“It’s nice to meet you!” Sirius shook his hand with a bit too much force. “Any friend of Hestia is a friend of mine!”A Vision, Sirius as a student snickering as he held a muggle lighter under a vial of potion, the flame dancing on the glass—Harry hadn’t thought much of the Vision when he Saw it long ago, but now he was able to identify the potion, a lubricant that was also a spermicide.Harry focused back on the present and Percy, who was standing nervously beside him.“Thanks. This is Percy, my boyfriend.”“It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Black.”Sirius crinkled his nose. “None of that Lord Black nonsense. We’re at the biggest quidditch game of the year!”Then nearly everyone around him got distracted by dancing Veela taking to the field.Harry chuckled. If he was attracted to woman, the allure wouldn’t even effect him because of his Occlumency. Then the havoc of Leprechaun gold being thrown around—people not knowing that it wasn’t real.Harry settled in his seat beside Percy—and beside a scared looking house-elf. The seat on her other side was empty, but not. Harry could feel an essence there. It was muffled, sickly, but fighting against something Harry couldn’t sense.But Harry was distracted by Percy shouting in joy as they two teams flew into the stadium.*Sirius and Hestia had left directly after the game.Harry was doing his best not to be jumpy. He’d already sent a warning to the campground’s security and Aurors that there would be an attack. It had lessened the damage in his Visions, but also moved the attack to earlier in the evening.And unfortunately, there was a pair of twins who were very insistent on collecting their winnings. Harry told them they could turn in their ticket at Gringotts, but they were determined. If Harry didn’t take them, they’d set off a dung-bomb at the absolutely worst moment.So Harry was escorting the pair to the betting booths. The good thing about the area was that it had high security to guard the galleons that came and went. The bad thing was that most of them were quickly going to abandon their posts when chaos broke out. If Harry was a thief still, it would be the perfect time to strike.The line was even shorter this time, far fewer winners than people who placed bets.Fred and George were grinning like mad as Harry turned in their ticket then gave them their winnings. It was a lot of money for 16 year olds, but he’d Seen their future of a joke shop on Diagon Alley. They weren’t about to drop all that money on racing brooms or glitzy clothes they’d outgrow.Harry checked his watch. It had a very large face so that he could see it in his Visions.3, 2, 1—A gout of fire dashed against the sunset. Then there was the screaming.Harry locked a hand on an upper arm of each twin. Both were craning their heads to see what was going on.When someone went flying into the air an instant later, they recoiled.“Let’s get back to the tent,” Harry said while yanking them into motion. Both pulled out their wands. Fred hastily and George in a smoother motion.“What’s happening?” Fred asked.“Nothing good. Stop looking backwards. I don’t want you to trip,” and get trampled like a few people would be.Fire started catching from one tent to another.“Boys!” Molly shouted when they came into view.Arthur ran by, barely sparing a second to look over them before heading into the riot to help. Bill and Charlie ran after him despite Molly shouting at them to stay.“We should head to the woods. Everyone link hands,” Harry instructed firmly—and was listened to.Molly lead the way, wand drawn with her hand gripping Ginny’s wrist. At the back of their clump was Percy, his own wand out.Harry only knew a few spells and had Seen that he wouldn’t need to pull his wand—but then a Death Eater appeared, a flash of white-blond hair free, point a wand at them. Harry met those cloud-grey eyes and did something he’d only practiced with small animals—he pushed the man out of his own mind. The Death Eater stumbled, just enough for the crowd to get between them.The trees engulfed them, cutting off the worst of the screaming and shouts. Harry let out a sigh of relief. They were safe now.*“I wish you could come to my wedding,” Marcus groused.“No, you wish you weren’t getting married,” Harry said while swirling his fire whiskey in his glass. He wasn’t much of a drinker. The one time he’d gotten drunk he hadn’t been able to control his Visions or stay in the moment. He’d been catatonic.Marcus groaned. “I know, but… I don’t want to lose my family. I’m just a spare. My father would cut me off if I tried to get out of this marriage.” What wasn’t said was that Marcus’ father was a piece of shit that would attack him.Harry took a sip of his drink, letting the burn linger.“Marcus, I don’t think I ever told you my dad was a pureblood.” Their eyes met, but Harry looked away. “He transfered all his money into a muggle bank so that his family couldn’t have access to it. Maybe you should do that so you can live how you want?”Marcus just shook his head. “I don’t know a thing about muggles and I’d have to leave Magical Britain if I did that. This is my home. I don’t…” Marcus sighed.Harry Knew there was no way he could get Marcus to move to the muggle world—not before Voldemort got his claws into the Flint family.*It was nearing the end of summer. Harry had been invited to have dinner with Sirius and Hestia.Harry had tried wrangling his Visions to see how he could save Hestia from being eaten by a dragon, but it was still up in the air. Hopefully the change he was making today would help. He’d had a secrecy contract drawn up and charmed by the goblins so that the information he was about to divulge couldn’t even be plucked from the mind. It was a pretty penny, but if the Vision of the past—The Vision of another Seer who predicted Hestia could destroy Voldemort was true—maybe the world wouldn’t end.Plus he didn’t want to have another Vision of a kid dying. There had been far too many of those, some children he hadn’t even encountered in reality. Maybe it was because he was an orphan, something deep in him not wanting any child to suffer.Harry arrived in Sirius and Hestia’s home through the floo. The first thing he noticed was how bright the area was, plenty of windows letting in natural light—than he was engulfed by a hug. Hestia, who started babbling happily.“Is Harry here?” Sirius shouted from somewhere else in the house.“Yeah! I’m gonna show Harry my room!” As was her way, she dragged him by the arm.Sirius’ response was overshadowed by Hestia talking.As he entered the room, Harry realized two things: Harry had never been in a friend’s home and that Hestia’s room was so much better than the room the Dursleys had so “generously” let her use.Bright, dancing wallpaper. A fluffy bed with stacks of pillows and plushies. The bookcase was messy with knickknack and books. An easels with a painting of… something. A prodigious collection of vinyl records.It was… homey. A happy place.Hestia showed and named each one of her plushies. He’d think it was something a seven year old would do, but Harry figured that she hadn’t had that chance when she was that age. He couldn’t believe that if he didn’t act, she might be dead in just a few months.“Hestia, I need to talk to you about something really serious.” Her bright smile dimmed. “It’s life and death.”She looked away. “Okay.” The word was said softly.“Here, read this.” Harry would be nervous, if he hadn’t already Seen her sign.Hestia sat at her desk, twirling a lock of her red-hair. Harry shifted on his feet. He noticed that there were glowing stars on the ceiling, even with the mid-day sun streaming in, he could see the stars.Hestia signed it will a muggle pen then looked at him with wide, green eyes.Harry took in a breath and explained everything to her.*Sirius was too excited to notice Hestia’s lack of engagement.Harry kept Looking into the future to See if he noticed anything and skimming Sirius’ mind.It was… almost touching how much Sirius already considered him family.They were sitting at a kitchen table, having tea and biscuits. “Just think about it, Harry! I could teach you so much magic! Uncle Alphard would want that!”Harry felt a lump in his throat. “I’ll think about it.”Sirius cocked his head to the side, but he wasn’t focused on Harry now.“That’s Remus!” Sirius scrambled off with a sort of enthusiasm that was more at home with a five year old.Hestia giggled.Harry felt Remus’ essence before he saw him—two essences, one orbiting the other, pulling at the bigger one like the moon controlled the tide. Harry knew that at the full moon the orbiting one would brush against the main essence, tainting it. A werewolf.Harry recognized the man from his Visions, Hestia’s third-year professor.His smile was warm. “I’m Remus Lupin.” They shook hands. “Thank you for all you did for Hestia.”“It’s nothing, the least I could do.” He wasn’t used to being thanked. Most of his interactions were focused on sales and purchases, both of wands and knickknack.Hestia scooted over to make room for Remus, putting Harry and her on the same side of the table. Sirius served Remus tea, fixing it perfectly. Harry knew that they once dated. He wasn’t sure if that was through his Seer abilities or other mind-magic.Then a new thought entered Sirius’ thoughts as Remus chattered. That Harry and Hestia had the same shape and color of eyes, of Lily’s eyes. Lily, the same name on the family tree that had the surname blasted off that marked her as Harry’s mother.*The Visions of Hestia had changed. She no longer died in the maw of a dragon. That was a relief—until he saw her die other ways later on.He was distracted. He’d never really thought about his birth parents, not even after his dad died and Harry needed help. His parents had given him up, back then there was no reason to think they’d open their arms to him as an orphan.Visions of the past confirmed who they were. His dad laughing that Harry wouldn’t have to worry about the Potter family curse of messy hair. Lily shouting at James that she was pregnant and that her life was ruined.Dumbledore convinces James and Lily to give up their baby. That they would be hindering the war effort if they didn’t continue their education, guaranteeing them a place in his Order of the Phoenix if they gave the child up.Lily miserable and throwing herself into her studies.James convincing her to marry him because of what they went through together1980, Lily begging to know where her baby went so that he could rejoin the family now that they were adults and could raise him with Hestia. Dumbledore guilting them for the idea of putting an “innocent child” in harm’s way.The worst had happened years before that. Dumbledore talking to James’ parents, guaranteeing that he’d make sure their bastard grandchild would never go to Hogwarts. It made Harry question everything he knew. Had his over-use of his Visions really remapped his magical pathways to make it impossible for him to be a full wizard, or was that just Dumbledore’s scheming?Harry hated him, hated how he’d condemned an innocent child to not getting a proper education.And now there were the Visions of Dumbledore forging Hestia into a weapon. Of his anger that no one tried to steal the Philosophers Stone, making it harder for him to maneuver Hestia into a gauntlet, a test that could have severely injured or killed her.Of him instituting a dueling club in her second year that he made her join, even though she didn’t like dueling.Trying to put a wedge between her and Susan Bones when Hestia admitted to the other girl how she was treated at the Dursley’s house. Casting a spell on Susan so she forgot.Pressuring Remus into making the third-years face a boggart.Conspiring with a former Auror turned professor—turned someone else who was a Death Eater. Dumbledore who would put Hestia’s name in the goblet of fire with little convincing. Trying to test her again, to push her into being reckless in a way that would make her a weapon in a war he was certain would begin again.Harry had only hated one person before, Walburga, but now he hated Dumbledore too.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Harry had dug far into the past, looking for all of Dumbledore’s secrets.

His friendship with Grindelwald, the murder of his sister, and his past political leanings.

It caused another migraine that followed him for days, but Harry had to do
something.
It wasn’t enough that he’d sent letters to both the Headmistress of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang warning them of Dumbledore’s plan to manipulate the Goblet of Fire into having two champions. He needed to
ruin
Dumbledore.

There was another factor, though. He didn’t know getting back at him would effect Voldemort’s return to power. Dumbledore pushed Hestia, but Voldemort wanted her dead. People said that Dumbledore was the only person Voldemort feared—

What if he took over faster and killed more people than he did in the future Harry had Seen too many times?

And what impact, if any, would it have on the end of the world.

*

September, October, and finally November of 1994 came, Hestia’s name not coming out of the Goblet of Fire since the other headmaster and headmistress heeded Harry’s warning and guarded the goblet.

What also came was Dumbledore eating a laced yellow candy that made his nose bleed—blood collected by the fake professor and soon after put into a potion.

Voldemort rose again, but this time months earlier.

Harry had been so focused on the past that he hadn't Seen it coming.

*

November 13th brought something that was both heart wrenching and cruel.

He and Garrick were going to Hogwarts for the Weighing of the Wands. Harry would finally see Hogwarts, step inside a place that should have embraced him, but was taken away either by Dumbledore or Walburga making him rewrite his magical pathways.

Harry was wearing not his best clothes, those were a bit too stuffy, but still good quality. His fingers tapped at his holstered wand nervously. He hadn’t started trying to learn new spells, nervous to see if he really was handicapped like he originally thought or if Dumbledore’s scheme had cheated him out of his confidence.

They had floo-ed to Hogsmeade, Garrick favoring it over apparation, which Harry was thankful for.

At least Harry was going to see Percy. He was happy that his boyfriend was already rising through the Ministry at such a fast pace, even though it was because his boss was missing.

But Harry also knew what was about to happen. Just as Harry Saw, he couldn’t pass the ward line into Hogwarts.

Garrick grunted in annoyance, despite having gotten through without issue.

Percy frowned, their kiss of greeting delayed. “That’s strange. Dumbledore knows two people are coming today.”

“Go get the old braggart,” Garrick commanded flippantly.

Percy and Garrick exchanged a few more words before Percy was off.

Harry’s heart was racing. He had confided in Garrick the reason why he wouldn’t be able to cross the ward line, even though he hated hearing about any of his Visions. Harry hadn’t really thought Garrick cared that much about him, but seeing him get up in arms about Harry not being allowed to step foot onto the school grounds made Harry see him in another light.

But it was a different professor that came to meet them. Professor McGonagall, as she introduced herself to be. “I’m afraid we aren’t allowing anyone who isn’t necessary for security purposes.” She had a no-nonsense tone that did nothing to deter Garrick.

“Then we’ll be on our way. Harry is my apprentice and is needed by my side for the Weighing of the Wands.” Garrick turned towards him. “Let’s get a pint at the Three Broomsticks.”

“Of course,” Harry said. Percy was tripping over his words, trying to convince her that Harry should be allowed in, citing the Ministry not wanting anything to go wrong with the Tournament.

McGonagall’s lips thinned. “If you wait just a moment I will speak to the headmaster.” She stepped away, flicked her wand and then summoned a Patronus. Her silencing spell meant Harry couldn’t hear her or the back and forth of the two patronuses.

Finally, she turned back towards them. “Professor Dumbledore has adjusted the wards for you to come in.”

“Thank you,” Harry said with a bright smile, happy to mess up one of Dumbledore’s plans—but at the same time with Harry coming with Garrick to Hogwarts, Dumbledore now knew where that innocent little baby had ended up.

The weighing of the wands was quick and easy. Harry didn’t have to do anything but stand there. He and Garrick could feel the essences of the wands to know they were in good shape, but Garrick always liked putting on a show.

Harry didn’t linger in Hogwarts, going back to his flat to contemplate the day.

*

One of Garrick’s squib sons welcomed a new addition to their family, a little witch. Harry didn’t know what that meant for his job when she grew up, assuming the end of the words could be diverted.

*

Sirius had only realized who Harry’s birth parents were because Harry changed things by having Hestia sign a contract so he could tell her about his ability in hopes of her not dying at the age of fourteen. With the change and Harry backing off from Watching Dumbledore, he was Seeing the changes in Sirius’ future now.

Sirius had admitted to Remus his suspicions. In turn, Remus remembered Lily smelling a bit different during that time period. They reminisced about her being sick a few times during the school year.

But Sirius hadn’t admitted that he was the one who messed with James’ birth control.

Remus wasn’t certain who Harry’s birth father was, even suggesting it could have been Snape, which Sirius scoffed at. In the end they said it didn’t matter since Alphard had done a blood adoption.

They had invited Harry over a few times under the pretense of them being some of the last Black Family members, but today they were going to tell Harry their suspicion.

Harry floo-ed into Sirius’ home, being shuffled into the kitchen. Sirius and Remus were visibly nervous, quickly exchanging glances with each other.

Harry ignored how obvious they were being, always happy to have a home-cooked meal. He could cook, but it wasn’t the same.

During afters, Sirius took in a deep breath and said, “There’s something Remus and me need to tell you.”

“What is it?” If he didn’t have his Sight, his thoughts would be racing, thinking the were going to abandon him.

Sirius shifted in his seat, Remus looking at him before taking over. “We think we know who your birth mother is.”

“That’s… nice? I’m not really interested in my bio-family though. My birth family,” he clarified when they both looked confused at his use of “bio”.

“You can’t meet her! I mean, she’s dead already, but we think you have a half-sibling.” Sirius glanced at Remus again. “I can pay for a blood test, and you could get an inheritance from your mom, maybe.”

Not that Harry needed the money. His Lockhart money had been invested in his World Cup bets, multiplying it a hundreds-fold, and Sirius had also gotten him a vault and filled it with the amount any Black Family trust vault would have—and then some.

Harry waved dismissively. “I don’t want to know anything about my birth family. Dad was all that mattered to me.” He paused. “I doubt any half-sibling would be interested in meeting me anyway. I’m just a wandmaker.”

“She would be so happy—” Remus elbowed Sirius, cutting him off, but only for a moment. “It’s Hestia, Hestia is your half sister!”

“Pads, we agreed we’d only tell him if he agreed to the blood test and it turned out they were related. You can’t just jump to this sort of thing.”

Sirius let out a soft whine. “They’d be so good for each other. The more family, the merrier!”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “I… I don’t
want
anything to do with my bio-parents, but if Hestia… We can do the test, but if we are half-siblings, I want to be the one to tell her.”

“Deal!”

*

The Vision of Lucius Malfoy was clear. Soon enough he would tell Voldemort that Harry had the diary. Soon enough Voldemort would be after him.

*

Harry reread the letter, not knowing what to think.

Despite being a Seer, he didn’t know much about them. He thought there were two types, the ones that went into a trance and told prophecies, and the ones like him who caught glimpses.

Hestia thought she might be the latter.

The letter she wrote said she’d been getting Visions of who might be Voldemort and getting headaches because of it, but Hestia said there was more to it. She was
feeling
what Voldemort felt.

He’d saved her from the dragon, but hadn’t gone Searching through her future other than to make sure she made it back for the winter holiday. Harry could sometimes pick up emotions through his Legilimency, but not through his Visions.

Winter break had begun at Hogwarts and Sirius was in London to pick up Hestia from the train.

Harry was at their home with Remus. His nerves were frayed. Hestia was going to learn that she and him were related today. Harry had purposefully not Looked into the future for her reaction. He didn’t want to be disappointed more than he needed to.

To add to his anxiety, Sirius was going to
try
to teach Harry a few basic spells tonight. It was another thing Harry hadn’t Searched for. Harry knew he could do some spells already, things that had been useful to him when he lived on the streets and ones that helped with his wandmaking. It’s just… for so long he’d thought… He also knew his fear was irrational. He either could or couldn’t do more than the basic spells he needed for work.

Dumbledore had a reckoning coming, and he had no idea.

Soon enough, Hestia arrived with Sirius (who was acting like an excited dog).

“Harry!” she shouted before giving him a hug. His little sister, family he didn’t even know he had. “Uncle Siri said you’d be here and that there’s a big surprise.” She glanced around with narrow eyes, a smile on her lips.

Harry looked at Sirius, not sure how to proceed. It was Remus who spoke, though.

“Sirius and Remus thought you and me have very similar eyes. We did the test and I’m your half-brother, through your mom.”

Harry could sense her mind becoming jumbled with his Legilimency.

“That’s… awesome!” Hestia threw herself into hugging him, knocking the air out of his lungs. “I’m so glad it’s you—but wait! My—
our
mom was 20 when she had me. So she was still in Hogwarts when she had you? When she had you and if your dad is Siri’s uncle—”

“Uncle Alphard blood adopted Harry,” Sirius said while trying to muss Harry’s hair. He fended him off easily. “We don’t know who his birth dad is.”

“Oh good. That would have been… bad.”

“Yes, it would have,” Remus said.

Harry had to stop himself from looking at Sirius. His thoughts were practically being shouted out about the part he’d played in Lily getting pregnant.

“You should move in with us,” Hestia almost whined, gripping his arm. Her green eyes were imploring.

Harry smiled. “Thank you, but I already have a flat. And I’m not used to living with other. I spent most of my life living in the attic of Garrick’s—Ollivanders’ shop.” Living with… family would just be too odd. And maybe a bit heartbreaking. He could only remember a few things about living with his dad, but with his Visions, he could revisit moments.

“Please, Harry,” she said, drawing out the word please.

“We can set up a room for him, Hestia, but Harry is an adult. He needs his own space.” Remus said, not wanting Harry to have unlimited access to her.

“Okay.” Hestia shifted on her feet, still holding his arm. “Is that why you helped me that summer before I went to Hogwarts?” He could tell what she was really asking, if his Visions had told him they were related.

“I had no idea. I just did what I thought needed doing.”

“What’s all this?” Sirius asked.

Hestia gave Harry a panicked look.

“I just helped her a bit with her first-year shopping. They didn’t send a professor with her to get her supplies.” Harry shrugged.

Remus sat up straighter. “I don’t Petunia would take you there. Who’d they send you with?”

“Hagrid.” Hestia laced her finger through a lock or red hair, twirling it. “But he’s a professor now, so it kinda counted.”

“I’ve never heard of Hagrid being sent before. He’s a bit, hmm, well, he doesn’t fit in with the muggle world. Did the Dursley’s drop you off at the Leaky?”

“Yes,” it came out more as a question than an answer.

“I helped her out. She got everything she needed.” Harry smiled, but he could see that Remus didn’t think that was the full truth and that Sirius was afraid of the real answer. That guilt for missing out on so much of their lives because he’d been focused on revenge.

Thankfully they dropped it.

The rest of the day was eaten up by light conversation.

Harry didn’t have time to practice any spells with Sirius. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

*

Harry and Hestia were having “bonding time”, as Sirius called it.

Harry had insisted that they not leave Sirius’ place, not wanting his photo taken or to get a headache from trying to Look out for trouble.

Remus told them he’d be making biscuits if they needed anything.

They were cloistered in Hestia’s room, making him think of when he’d told her about his abilities.

“I wish I had taken Divination,” Hestia said, starting them out, “but everyone told me it would be a waste of time.”

Harry shifted in his seat. He’d taken her desk chair and Hestia was sitting on her bed.

“My friend said she was a nutter. I wouldn’t go to her, if I were you.”

“Why?” Hestia cocked her head while speaking.

“She’s a Hogwarts professor. She might run to Dumbledore and tattle to him.” He’d Seen how Snape reported to Dumbledore, and Harry got the distinct impression that Snape didn’t even like the headmaster.

“But Dumbledore is a great man! He was the only one You Know Who was scared of!”

Harry took in a slow breath. “Hestia, he’s the one who barred me from going to Hogwarts. I’ve Seen him encouraging, to put it lightly, Snape to be mean to you. He was one of Grindlewald’s original conspirators before he got his sister killed. He was going to put your name in the Goblet of Fire.”

Hestia gaped at him.

“Just do me a favor and don’t trust him.”

“I’m… I’m sorry.” She was looking at her feet.

“Why are you sorry?” He hadn’t Seen anything new or surprising when it came to that bastard.

“That you didn’t get to go to Hogwarts. It’s my first home. You would have loved it.”

Harry let out a puff of air. “Don’t worry about it. I’m doing fine.” She still looked sad. He changed the subject. “I know Legilimency. It will let me see into your head.”

Hestia’s green eyes widened. “That’s a thing?”

“Yeah, and Dumbledore and Snape can do it too.” She blanched. “If I have time, I can teach you Occlumency this summer. It keeps people out of your head.” It also helped Harry stay grounded in the present. Having access to the future and past could warp a person’s notion of time.

“Thank you, Harry! You’re the best big brother ever!”

Harry looked away with a blush. How could she say something like that with so much sincerity? They barely knew each other.

“Just focus on your Visions and make eye-contact with me.”

Hestia made it easy for him to find what she was seeing—There was so much emotions connected with them, unlike Harry’s Visions. And it was from Voldemort’s perspective. When Harry had Visions they were from an outside perspective.

Harry slipped out of her mind and stared at the wall in thought. He had also sensed something strange, but he couldn’t put a name to it…

“They’re not like mine.” He explained the differences between their Visions. “Have you tried to force a Vision before?” Maybe the randomness was like the Seers who had prophecies.

“How do I do that?” Hestia asked, which was a very good question.

How to explain it? “Well, just think about what Voldemort is going to eat for breakfast tomorrow.” Harry pushed his thoughts that way and had a Vision of Voldemort eating a few soft boiled eggs and plain toast. Not exactly the breakfast one would expect of a dark lord. Not that Harry thought he’d be eating babies, or something.

Hestia’s face was pinched, eyes closed. When she looked at him again, she seemed a bit tired.

“I didn’t see him eating, but reading a book about… I wasn’t sure what it was about. I’m only a forth-year,” she muttered the last part.

Harry hummed in thought. “For now, trying having a Vision of him a few times a day and write down the results. It might help you control your Visions. Maybe when you get back for the spring holiday you’ll have a better hold on it and we can work from there. Deal?”

“Deal.” She didn’t look happy, though.

“And you can always send me an owl, Hestia. We’re family.” That felt so odd to say, but it was true.

Hestia’s smile was nearly blinding.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Harry had to act. He had no way to tell when Malfoy would be forced to admit that he’d “lost” the diary. And, more importantly, have his mind pried open and see Harry stealing the diary from Ginny’s cauldron, see his face.

Harry could already See his capture, See his torture.

But he also saw something else, a way for images to be pulled out of a mind. Voldemort using it to show his Death Eaters Harry’s face.

If Harry could get a hold of one of those basins…

He didn’t have time to contemplate that, though.

Harry didn’t know why the diary was so important to Voldemort, but it clearly was.

Harry went to Gringotts, thankful that the cold weather allowed him to seamlessly wear a hood and scarf up to his eyes. No need to show his face in these parts.

The goblin looked at his key before calling over another goblin to take him down to his vault, his original vault. He had two now, one for the money he earned plus the diary, and the other from Sirius. He had started pulling funds from the latter into his old account, just in case he had a falling out with Sirius. He couldn’t bring himself to fully trust him when it came to money. Sirius was Lord Black after all.

As Harry entered his original vault, he couldn’t help but smiling. From street rat to someone who could buy a luxurious house—not that he’d ever waste his money on space he wasn’t even going to use. Maybe one day he’d move into a proper house, but a flat was what he needed for now.

And his flat was going to be trashed at some point by Death Eaters, but that was neither here nor there.

The diary was a small shelf built into the vault.

He could feel it’s essence like he hadn’t quite been able to before. It was a living thing, not the essence of a magic object, but of a
being.
Maybe even of a human, but he couldn’t be sure.

Harry took off his winter gloves and replaced them with a pair of dragon hide gloves. They were for working with volatile wand cores. Garrick only stick to the main three wand cores, but Harry liked experimenting. He was planning on going on another “expedition” to harvest unique wand cores after he picked up the diary.

He felt the essence almost licking at his gloves, not able to get past them. Harry let out a sigh of relief before putting the diary in a small bag he’d purchased just for this. Its essence was completely stifled inside of it. From there, he placed it in his hiking bag.

When he was out of Gringotts, there were only two placed he needed to go first, to purchase an owl and to use the Floo in Garrick’s.

*

Harry had already confirmed with Garrick that he’d be gone for a month. He’d also told Percy and Sirius, who passed it on to Hestia and Remus.

Harry was in France, close enough that he could get an owl to Sirius fairly fast in case Hestia was in danger, but far enough that his new Visions didn’t have the Death Eaters finding him.

He was a bit sad that his flat would be completely destroyed, but he’d taken out his father’s wand and the other sentimental pieces he had there. He’d been certain to let his landlord know he’d be gone for a while and to keep an eye on the place. Aurors would be called, but Harry had no faith in them. Especially since he was a nobody.

In France he found a solicitor who focused on magical contracts. It cost Harry a pretty penny, but this would ensure Harry’s safety, or at least from what he’d Seen. Voldemort got his diary and Harry got his safety and agreement that Voldemort or his associates wouldn’t mess with him, in laymen’s terms.

While the contract was being enchanted, which took a little over a day, Harry examined the diary. It was still blank, as he had observed when he first got it. He focused his Visions on the diary, which he hadn’t done last time. Feeling its essence made searching easy, but didn’t no less surprising.

Somehow, the diary came to be the same day that poor Ravenclaw girl died in Hogwarts. There was the familiar face of the boy who’d controlled the basilisk, the one Harry hadn’t been able to See after the basilisk made its kill when Harry was younger.

He understood why now, Tom, as the name was on the dairy, had done something to himself, something that fundamentally changed him, like when Sirius turned into Padfoot. Something rarer than an animagus.

Harry searched forward, not pushing his Visions too far.

This Not-Tom changing fundamentally again less than a year later, but Harry was able to move forward by focusing on the diary.

This third iteration of Tom—
Voldemort,
as he named himself.

The diary in his desk, the perfect loci for Visions.

Voldemort’s private conversations.

Practiced speeches.

Battle plans.

Another, another, another iteration. Such a clear decline.

Until it was handed off to Lucius Malfoy, an err born of arrogance.

Until it landed in Ginny’s cauldron.

Until Harry locked it away in his vault.

Remus’ patronus arrived, warning him of new danger, begging him to come to their flat.

The previous Vision of Snape telling Dumbledore about Voldemort’s interest in Harry must have occurred.

Harry sent his new owl, Hedwig, with a message that he was fine and would return soon.

Harry collected the magical contract, certain this would work. He sent it off to Voldemort with a rented owl in a different city. When Voldemort signed it, a copy would appear to Harry and then he’d send off the diary, his safety ensured.

*

Harry had moved into the Black Maw, the ancestral home of the Black Family. Sirius and his family had just moved there since its wards were incredibly powerful. Hestia was back at Hogwarts.

Harry hadn’t wanted to move there, to maintain his independence, but it’s not exactly like he could tell them he made a deal with Voldemort insuring his safety.

It was strange living in such a big place, especially when Sirius told Harry this is where Alphard grew up. His old room had been stripped of personality after he moved out, but Harry had been able to find a few pictures of him. Walburga hadn’t gotten her hands on them, considering her husband died before becoming Lord Black and moving to live in Black Maw.

Other than his dad’s bedroom, his new bedroom, Harry had also been given a large workroom. Room he could use to craft wands, once Garrick gave his approval, Harry wouldn’t have to go to the store to craft there. He was freeing up room for Garrick in the already small workroom in the back of the store.

Harry would still have to work the front of the store and have his work inspected, but as far as Garrick knew, Harry would be gone, looking for wand ingredients. By then things would be calmer and Voldemort would have long ago pulled his dogs from Harry’s tracks.

It was a waiting game for now, which was something Harry could handle.

Most importantly, Black Maw had a pensieve where Harry could put his Visions. He had found a book on how to use it and was reading it carefully. Thankfully the spell relied heavily on the mind arts, Harry’s specialty. He was hesitant to put his wand to his head, though. He had Visions of it working, but he was still wary.

And who would he give the Vision to?

He didn’t trust the Ministry or Dumbledore, and Dumbledore was the head of the International Confederation of Wixen.

Sirius was still struggling with his stay at Azkaban and Harry wasn’t close to Remus.

He had to be careful. He couldn’t risk his Seer abilities being… But did that really matter if the end of the world was still in his Visions?

*

Sometimes Harry wondered where Tom Riddle went wrong. It was before whatever he did to mar his essence. He’d spent the first 13 years of his life being beaten down and fighting back when he could. He’d been a promising student at Hogwarts, a future of possibilities in front of him. Each summer spent in bitterness that only compounded during World War Two.

His descent into madness…

It kept Harry up at night.

*

Percy was tooting his own horn. Harry didn’t have much of a problem with this. He knew how hard Percy had worked to get such a prestigious position fresh out of Hogwarts.

They’d visited Percy’s parents a few times. He could see how much they adored Percy, (and how Molly felt like one of her sons finally listened to her advice). It was… nice. Just not something he was used to.

It didn’t help that Molly and Arthur were both part of Dumbledore’s vigilante group. They had known Voldemort had sent people to hunt Harry down. The order had been rescinded, but he could see in their eyes every so often them wondering what their son was getting into by dating Harry.

George and Fred had endorsed their relationship, which added to their unease.

Harry assumed the only reason they didn’t press for answers was because of their shared experience during the World Cup. Molly thought anyone who protected her family couldn’t be that bad. Harry considered telling them Hestia was his half-sister, to give them a reason on why he was hunted, but he didn’t want to risk that getting out and causing all sorts of new problems.

Harry had been feeling something he didn’t know how to articulate. Max had gone off to uni and Marcus was busy with his new wife—Harry’s oldest friends were essentially out of touch to him.

Sirius was still dealing with his part in Harry being born, along with his guilt for letting Hestia and Harry down by getting sent to Azkaban. Harry also was avoiding him as much as he could because Sirius got it in his head that if he taught Harry magic maybe he’d earn his forgiveness for not being there for him.

Harry was still not confident in himself when it came to learning magic. The mind arts were one thing, but…

Remus had become cautious around Harry, which was Dumbledore’s doing. He whispered in his ear with all sorts of ideas why Voldemort had been searching for him, and how Harry possibly appeased him to call off the hunt.

Right now all Harry had was Percy and Hestia’s sporadic letters.

It weighed on him.

*

Harry’s Visions had changed when he’d sent the diary to Voldemort. The dark lord was obsessed with getting his hands on something in the Department of Mysteries, possibly the prophecy. He was also going to break his Death Eaters out of Azkaban in the summer, which was another headache Harry would have to deal with.

Hestia’s letters about her own Visions seemed to be grounded in the present. She only saw what Voldemort was currently doing. It worried Harry, how they seemed to be tied together. He knew about the prophecy and had looked back at that fateful Halloween night… Who was he to question it all? Harry saw the future as changeable, something he could pluck at eventually see ripples down the line.

This prophecy was grounded in reality in a way Harry wasn’t used to. He couldn’t wrap his head around why Hestia and Voldemort were “destined” to fight—But his little Hufflepuff sister was no fighter.

A part of Harry wondered if he was the, “power the Dark Lord knows not”.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It was a bit hard to expose the fake professor. Harry had to write a letter another letter, this time to Snape. Their last encounter, when Harry had written him about a vital ingredient to his werewolf cure, it had ended up with them face to face, something Harry didn’t want to happen again.

Garrick said that Harry was close to becoming a master of Legilimency and Occlumency, but that didn’t mean he wanted to risk that. He wasn’t sure if Snape was on Dumbledore’s or Voldemort’s side, but either way, he wasn’t on Harry’s.

So Harry wrote to him using his various abilities to hide his identity about not-Moody breaking into Snape’s potion ingredients. He didn’t have a time he could See, complicating things, but he was able to make a decent sketch of the face not-Moody had when he wasn’t using polyjuice potion.

The letter was sent off, even though he knew it would lead to the fake professor being Kissed by a Dementor.

But it would keep Hestia out of Voldemort’s clutches at the end of the school year.

*

Harry had a Vision of what was most likely the recent past. Sirius had asked Hestia permission if it was alright if he gave Harry the Black Lordship and half his things in his will. Hestia had been confused on why he was asking her of all people that before he explained she was his sole heir.

Hestia had crinkled up her nose and said she would have the Potter Lordship and didn’t need another, and that Sirius should give Harry
all
the money in his will since it was Sirius’ mom that killed Harry’s dad.

Sirius had made a whining little sounds and Hestia had given him a hug before changing the subject.

*

Sirius came to Harry ranting and raving, saying how Dumbledore wanted Snape to teach Hestia Occlumency.

Harry had told Hestia not to tell Dumbledore about her Visions, but the old goat had plucked it out of her mind. Thankfully, their contract made his secret unknowable to outside forces.

Hours later Harry received a letter from Hestia begging him to teach her Occlumency. Apparently, Dumbledore wanted her to learn from Snape, but she didn’t want him in her head. She said he was a bully. Harry wondered how much worse he would have been if she didn’t look exactly like Lily Evans, his childhood friend.

Harry thought on it for only a brief moment before going to Sirius. His older cousin was still in a foul mood. It would make things easier.

Harry sat across from him in the small parlor room. Sirius had a crystal glass in his hand, and Harry hoped it didn’t have any alcohol. He was aware of Sirius’ treatment plan to recover from his unlawful imprisonment. Alcohol would weaken some of the long term potions he was supposed to take.

“Harry!” Sirius said with a brittle smile. Harry wondered where Remus was, not that it was his responsibility to look after the other man. “Did I miss lunch?” Sirius glanced to the grandfather clock, which didn’t work.

“You didn’t miss anything. I just—I have something to tell you. It’s an offer.” That caught Sirius’ attention. “Part of my training was to learn Occlumency,” he didn’t mention learning Legilimency. No need for Sirius to start shielding himself, or for that information to get out. “I can teach Hestia, if you like.”

Sirius hopped to his feet then practically dragged Harry out of his seat to hug him. “That’s brilliant, kid! I’m sure Hestia would love that—and that means no slimy snake in her head!”

Harry thought people cared a bit too much about their Hogwarts’ house mascots, put too much value into them. But he never went to Hogwarts, so what did he know?

“I was thinking I could meet weekly with Hestia at Hogwarts.” Dumbledore would be
delighted.
“Thursday evenings would work best for me.”

“I see how it is,” Sirius said while waggling his finger. Harry would have panicked, if Sirius’ thoughts weren’t practically spoken aloud. “You want to see your boyfriend.”

Harry gave a smile like he’d been caught. “I mean, that
is
a factor, but I think it would be best not to upset Hestia’s schedule. She deserves to have a normal school life.” Those seemed to be magic words to Sirius.

He was pulled into another rib crushing hug, before Sirius held him at arm’s length, hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“I was going to save this until your birthday—but I’m too excited! I know you don’t like living with us old fuddy-duddies, and your flat was attacked, so I am having one of the Black properties cleaned up for you! It’s in London and I already got rid of that nasty house elf—but if you want one I’m sure I can find you a good one!”

“Woah, Sirius, slow down.” Harry tended not to Look into the future when it came to his birthday, so this was a genuine surprise. “Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

“Nonsense!” Sirius shook him slightly before letting go. “The best part is it was my mother’s old place! I had to get professionals to tear her portrait off the wall. I told her I was going to give it to you and—and I haven’t heard her scream like that since I dated a muggle!”

Harry let out a huff of laughter. He could see someone not wanting to live in the house of the person who killed a family member, but Harry had been homeless. The idea of turning down a house was inconceivable. It also helped that it made Walburga’s portrait angry. He’d never had a chance to get revenge on her, but this was something like it.

“Alright, Sirius, if you’re okay with it…”

“Yes, yes, yes! I’ll show you it tomorrow. Now you can design it how you like! Remus and I wasn’t sure what you liked—I need to talk to Albus and Hestia! You’re brilliant!” Sirius gave Harry a lip-smacking kiss on the cheek before bolting off.

Harry let out a breath. Sirius was a bit much sometimes, but he was family.

*

Harry Saw Sirius and Dumbledore arguing about him.

Sirius insisted that the Occlumency lessons be held in Hogwarts.

Dumbledore said it wasn’t safe to let a stranger into Hogwarts.

Sirius pointed out that the Triwizard Tournament let plenty of strangers in—especially Karkaroff, and Albus didn’t have a problem with that.

Sirius’ hatred of Snape fueled his argument, made him obstinate.

Dumbledore tried using that against him, saying if Harry was allowed into Hogwarts, that Snape would have to supervise him and sit in on their Occlumency lessons.

They argued back and forth, Sirius red faced with his shouting while Dumbledore stayed placid.

Sirius going on about how Harry had been through too much as is, and was doing them a big favor. He was family and not a stranger. He questioned why Dumbledore hated him so much.

Dumbledore claimed to have no negative feeling for him, which Harry could tell was a lie, which backed him into a corner.

Harry would start teaching Hestia as soon as possible.

*

The following day Harry met up with Sirius and Remus in the library of the Black Maw. He’d claimed he wanted to see a memory of his dad, which wasn’t a lie, but it was mostly so he could see how a pensieve worked.

Harry was a bit jittery. He’d seen pictures of his dad, wizarding ones that moved, and Visions of him, but this felt different for some reason.

“I’ve got a good one,” Sirius said. He had a manic energy about him today, still jazzed up from his argument with Dumbledore, according to Remus. Harry had pretended to be surprised they’d argued, but he didn’t think he fooled Remus. He’d have to watch out for that.

“Great.” Harry smile was a bit forced.

He watched closely as Sirius pressed his wand to his temple. A thin wisp of white life came out as he pulled it away from his head, before lightly snapping free. Sirius deposited it in the basin of the pensieve.

“I think you’ll like this one.” Sirius grinned, his yellowed teeth on display.

Harry took in a deep breath. He could feel Sirius’ essence in the odd substance. It was almost stale though, or more like when a peeled apple started browning. He’d never encountered that before.

As he was instructed earlier, Harry dipped his head into the white and silver wisps.

The first thing he noticed was the smell of spring, his Visions never had scent. He was quickly distracted by the sight of his dad, by a Sirius that was a bit younger than Harry was. This must have happened before he was born or just after.

They were sitting in a small garden and Alphard was healing Sirius’ arm, which was twisted at an odd angle.

“I hate her,” Sirius said, his voice cracking. “I don’t care if she’s gave birth to me, she’s not a real mother.”

“You’re right.” Alphard’s fingers rubbed Sirius’ knuckles of the hand he held to keep the arm steady. “No real parent would ever hurt their child. I wish I could take you in.”

Sirius laughed. “You got me out of that hell hole. My best mate James said I had a place in his home if I ever needed it.”

“Good,” Alphard said softly, still healing him.

They were silent for a few moments, the color of spells painting their pale skin.

“Uncle Alphie, why did you never have kids?”

“I want one but… I’m surprised Walburga never told you I am queer.” His voice was emotionless.

Sirius snorted. “Oh, she told me alright, made a whole production about it. I told her I’d only marry a man. She nearly fainted.” Harry knew one of the reasons she hated homosexuality was because it made it less likely for the Black Family to keep growing.

“Did you just tell her that or…?” It was Alphard’s careful tone, one Harry had heard many times before.

“I’m an equal opportunity man.” Sirius laughed. Alphard grinned and Harry was struck with how much Harry looked like his dad in that moment.

“Don’t go marrying someone just to spite Walburga.” He released Sirius’ arm.

“I won’t, even if it would be a funny prank.”

“Where should I apparate you to?” Alphard asked while pulling out his money pouch.

“Diagon will work. I can Floo to James’ from there.”

Alphard handed over the contents of his money pouch. “Owl me when you need more,” he commanded. When they stood, Sirius pulled him into a hug. “I’m glad you’re breaking free, Sirius.”

When he pulled back, Sirius still had his hands on his shoulders. “Maybe you should think of doing the same?”

Alphard tilted his head to the side before smiling. “Maybe I should.

The memory ended and Harry was pulled out of the memory.

“I like to think I singlehandedly got you adopted,” Sirius said while putting an arm over Harry’s shoulder. He was a very physical person.

Harry refrained from commenting that Sirius had practically singlehandedly gotten Harry conceived.

Sirius’ thoughts echoed that, with a tinge of guilt and self-hate.

But maybe that had been a turning point for Alphard, the final nudge…

Harry was still lost in thought as they had lunch

He missed his dad so much. He also… he felt closer to Sirius now that he knew how much Alphard cared about him. Yes they were cousins, but neither were exactly open when it came to the truth. Sirius was a bit jumpy and fell into his own mind sometimes, and Harry didn’t know how to do this whole family situation or be around anyone for long periods of time. He only ever been able to see his friends and Percy for short amounts of time. He spent a good deal of time with Garrick, but that was lessons and at this point Garrick trusted him enough to make wands without supervision.

He would be more comfortable once Grimmauld Place was habitable and he moved out of the Black Maw.

Harry was able to shake loose his odd state before they headed off to meet the foreman and the interior designer at Grimmauld. Harry didn’t know much about house remodeling and already felt lost.

When they got there, to a townhouse that was much bigger than Harry expected, but something he supposed he should have knowing the extravagance of the Black Family.

With the foreman and interior designer, Remus acted as the in between for Harry as they toured the place. He was really out of his element.

The magical and nonmagical pests had been removed, but Harry could see the past signs of him. He understood now why Sirius had dismissed the elf that had been in charge of this place. There was also a distinct lack of windows. There were a lot of unique items that he wanted to use his abilities on, to see their history or how they were made.

“Of course only a Black can enter or take anything from the library,” Sirius said with a scoff. They entered the large room. It had a mosaic skylight, which made it the brightest place in the townhouse. The mosiac was too dirty for Harry to make out what exactly it was. “I can gut the room for you, if you’d like. It stinks like dark magic in here,” he grumbled.

“No, that’s alright.” Harry drifted forwards, his footsteps sending up puffs of dust. He’d never seen so many books in one place. Was this what Hogwarts’ library looked like? Harry could feel violent essences from some of the books, unlike Hogwarts hopefully. “I’ve always wanted a large library,” he glanced at Sirius, hearing his unsure thoughts, “not that I’m much of a reader,” he joked.

Harry also felt an essence that was familiar in its strangeness. An iteration on iterations before it. Something like the diary. Harry Peeked into the future. A locket, another bargaining chip.