Year 5-15: Scene of the Crime

"Rise and shine, dear!"

Harry groaned, shielding his eyes from the blinding light pouring into his bedroom. Lily had pulled back the curtains from the window, flooding the room with sunshine. She began tugging on his bed sheets, but Harry resisted, groaning and covering his face with a pillow.

"What time is it?" he croaked groggily.

"Time to wake up," said Lily, finally succeeding in wrenching the covers from Harry's grasp. "Get dressed. We have work to do."

Harry huffed and forced himself out of bed, head pounding from a lack of sleep. He should have known his mother would be angry with him...she had been mostly silent the night before, letting James explain the situation when they returned from Dumbledore's office. She excused herself to bed early, which Harry knew meant that she was furious but did not want to explode in front of her son. He had heard tales of his mother's famous temper from his father and uncles, but had yet to truly experience it for himself, and he found her coiled, precipitous demeanor quite frightening.

"You can fix yourself something to eat," Lily said snippily, gesturing to the kitchen. "I would do it myself, but I wasn't planning on taking care of anybody else this morning."

Harry winced; the sarcasm was thick on her tongue today. She must truly be beside herself...and to be fair, having a child expelled from Hogwarts was not something to take lightly. He rifled through the cabinets for food, eventually settling on buttered toast for his meal. He knew it would leave him still hungry, but he could feel Lily's impatient gaze on his back and scarfed it down quickly.

"Now, sit," she demanded, pointing to the kitchen table. "You may not be a student any longer, but I won't have you neglect your O.W.L.'s. We will begin with Potions tutoring, before moving on to Ancient Runes and History of Magic."

"C'mon, Mum, we don't have to do this—" Harry sighed.

"Of course we do," she said snippily. "I've already contacted the Headmistresses of both Ilvermorny and Beauxbatons, inquiring about enrolling you next fall. As long as you have your O.W.L. results, it shouldn't be a problem to transfer you."

"I'm not transferring out of Britain," Harry said flatly. "Not as long as my family is here."

"I am far too busy to devote the next two years to your home schooling," said Lily. "You will be attending a different school, and in the meantime, I will help to prepare you the best I can for your exams."

"Mum, slow down for a second!" Harry chuckled. "We don't have to dive into all of this right now. Frankly, I don't see what the big deal is—"

"The big deal?!" Lily roared, rounding on Harry, green eyes alight with fury. "You've been expelled from the most prestigious wizarding school in the world! That's going to stick with you for the rest of your life! You didn't stop to think for one second how that would reflect on us? How it would impact your future? Not to mention the damage you've done to your father's career, which he's spent your entire life building to care for you and your sister! And now we're stuck cleaning up the mess you've gotten us all into! So don't you dare give me cheek, you ungrateful brat!"

Harry was suitably cowed by his mother's outburst, looking down at his feet in shame. "Alright," he sighed. "I'm sorry."

Lily took several deep breaths to calm herself, then sank into a chair and began to softly cry. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," she sniffed. "I know it's not all your fault – your father told me you were protecting Damian. I'm just so scared, and I feel like you're being unfairly drawn into this war that has nothing to do with you, and I don't want to lose you—"

"You aren't losing me, Mum," Harry reassured her, sinking into the seat beside her and handing her a napkin. "I knew this war was coming before anyone else did, and I've been preparing myself for years. It's not ideal, but we'll make do with the situation as best we can. You don't have to worry about me."

"Of course I have to; you're my son," Lily laughed wetly as she blew her nose. "I've been worrying for the past sixteen years straight. You've always been so resourceful and self-sufficient...I just fear you never got the chance to be a kid."

That's true, I didn't, Harry reasoned. But at least I got to know what having a loving family feels like. And I wouldn't trade that for the world. He couldn't admit this part out loud, so he just sat by Lily's side, gripping her hand for reassurance as she recomposed herself. It was the least he could do for the mother who had sacrificed everything for him in another lifetime.

"So, Potions, you said?" he suggested once Lily's breathing had returned to normal. "Snape was teaching us poison antidotes this week – I could use the refresher."

"Yes, alright, let's begin there," Lily agreed. The distraction seemed to cheer her up, and Harry decided to indulge her.

They spent the rest of the morning going over Harry's class notes, reviewing anything and everything that might be on the exam. Harry found Lily to be a far more effective teacher than Snape – she was able to explain the basic principles of poison neutralization better than Harry had ever understood it in the classroom. With a few more sessions, plus some time devoted to memorizing recipes, he felt he might be able to achieve that 'O' grade after all.

Not that it matters now, he thought in the back of his mind. Considering I won't be back to school to study N.E.W.T. level. He knew there was zero chance he was leaving the country as long as his family was here and the war was ongoing. But that was an argument he wasn't willing to have right now, not with Lily so on-edge already – he would go along with it for now, take his O.W.L.'s independently, and figure out his true plans over the summer.

They had just finished reviewing Ancient Runes and were moving onto History of Magic when James arrived, stepping through the Floo into the living room. Lily jumped up at once and made her way towards him – Harry realized that his father's absence must have been the source of most of her anxiety.

"How did it go?" she asked worriedly.

"Just fine, love," James reassured her, giving her a tender kiss. "Managed to nick what I needed and get out without much trouble. Kingsley opened the door for me, so no one will ever know I was there."

"What's going on?" Harry asked. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, just stealing classified documents from the Auror Office," James grinned. "I wasn't given any advance warning before last night's incident, so I didn't get to clean out my desk and gather all the info I needed. But I spoke with Kingsley early this morning, and he agreed to create a diversion so I could slip in and out."

"Such an unnecessary risk!" Lily huffed. "What if you'd been caught? You could have been sent to Azkaban!"

"Don't you remember who you married?" James winked. "I'm something of an expert in sneaking around. If I could avoid being caught by Albus Dumbledore for seven years, I'm pretty sure I can give ol' John Dawlish the slip."

"What did you take?" asked Harry.

"Mostly case files on suspected Death Eaters," said James, reaching into his robes. He withdrew a large stack of folders and un-shrunk them before plopping them on the coffee table. "I've been compiling data on possible safe houses and supply points that the Voldemort camp might be using. We were hoping to identify a whole bunch of them and strike all at once to disrupt their network."

"But that's over with, now," Lily said sharply. "The Aurors can handle that on their own, I am sure. Can't they, dear?"

"Oh, I'm sure they can," James agreed, but Harry was certain he was just saying this to appease Lily. His mother didn't appear too convinced either, but she dropped the subject.

Lily left soon after for Remus and Alessia's to attend to the potions lab. James suggested he and Harry head into town to grab lunch at the Muggle sandwich shop they each enjoyed. They took the main road, passing by Muggles who paid them no mind, going about their business, completely oblivious to the secret war being waged right under their noses.

"Did your mother give you an earful this morning?" asked James as they settled into a corner booth.

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "Said I created a mess with everything that happened, but then said she didn't mean it."

"She told me something similar last night," James chuckled dryly. "I thought she would break through the silencing wards I put up with how much she was yelling."

"I'm sorry," Harry sighed. "For everything, I mean. I didn't want you to lose your job because of me—"

But to his surprise, James waved it off. "You did what you had to do to protect your cousin, and I'm proud of you for it," he said. "Besides, I was going to lose my job one way or another. If it wasn't because of you, it would've been for something else. Frankly, I'm not upset about it...if anything, it liberates me."

"Liberates you?" Harry repeated, frowning.

"There are advantages to being inside the Ministry, that's for sure," said James. "But there are too many rules – too many people watching, preventing me from really doing what really needs to be done. I might actually make some real progress out in the real world that I couldn't from behind a desk."

"Like what?"

"Like investigating safe houses and tracking troop movements. Aurors have to follow strict guidelines when it comes to such things. Now I'll be able to cross some boundaries I wasn't allowed to before."

"You aren't going to take on any Death Eaters by yourself, are you?" Harry frowned.

"No, nothing like that," James muttered. "Just getting in closer to the action to gather more intel. There's a chance I might have to fight if I'm spotted, but I'm something of an expert when it comes to not getting caught."

"Can I come with you sometime?" Harry asked eagerly.

"I don't think that would be wise. I could never ask you to take the same risks I might have to, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you."

"I can take care of myself," Harry defended. "And I can hold back if you asked me to. Do you really expect me to sit in the house all day, while you're on the front lines of a war only we know about?"

"You're fifteen," James said sternly. "Being expelled does not mean your education is over. We will explore options for you in the fall—"

"You know I'm not going to Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny, right?" Harry said pointedly. "I don't care what you or Mum or anyone else says – I won't leave my family during a war. If you try to send me out of Britain, I'll just find a way to sneak back in."

"We can look into private tutoring of some kind to keep you close," James conceded. "But this does not give you free rein to jump into battle. You're not ready for that yet."

"All the same," Harry groaned, "I can't stand to just sit on the sidelines anymore. I have to be involved somehow, and you trying to keep me out will only make things worse."

James considered this, then sighed heavily.

"Maybe I can bring you along to some less dangerous missions," he sighed. "Kingsley has agreed to feed me information from inside the department that might be of interest – things the Aurors aren't investigating that might still prove important to the war."

"Alright," Harry begrudgingly agreed. It wasn't much, but he wouldn't push his luck, not just yet.

"It's probably best that we resume our dueling lessons as well," said James. "I don't want you fighting if you can help it, but I'd also feel better knowing you're prepared."

Harry nodded his agreement. He would continue to let James believe he was staying out of the fight, but in reality, he suspected he would be on the front lines far sooner than anticipated.

But in the meantime, Harry had to endure day after day being cooped up in Godric's Hollow. Lily was taking time away from the lab to tutor him on all of his O.W.L. subjects, which he suspected was less about the grades and more about keeping a close eye on him. Lily knew all too well what James did not: that the Potter men were prone to acting first and thinking second, and she was determined not to let Harry stray too far from the nest when she wasn't looking.

The only access to the outside world Harry had was the Daily Prophet, and he knew it would offer him few answers about what was actually happening. As expected, the paper had a field day with news of James' firing and Harry's expulsion from Hogwarts, celebrating it as 'an excision of the tumor plaguing this nation for far too long'. Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken over as Head Auror, and judging by the negative rhetoric surrounding this news, it seemed Lucius Malfoy sought to have him eventually removed as well.

Harry wondered how things were faring back at Hogwarts. Were his sister and cousin safe? Would any other defense club members face punishment for their involvement? Would Draco become emboldened by this latest victory and ramp up the malice towards Harry's loved ones? He could only hope that he'd done enough to help the students protect themselves. The Prophet surely would have reported if Neville or anyone else faced expulsion, so the lack of news there was a bit of a blessing in disguise.

On the fourth day of Harry's unintentional sabbatical from Hogwarts, he received a letter from Fleur, who had read about his expulsion in the Prophet and was beside herself with fury about it. At whom, Harry couldn't be totally sure – the Ministry for perpetrating it? Dumbledore for allowing it? Harry himself for getting into the situation in the first place? Knowing her, it was probably a combination of all of the above.

Fleur demanded to meet as soon as possible to discuss everything. While Harry would have loved to sneak out and meet her in London, he didn't want to incur his mother's wrath, so he begrudgingly asked Lily for permission first.

"Ah...Fleur, the Beauxbatons Champion from last year's Tournament?" asked Lily, intrigued. "I didn't know you were still in touch with her. Are you two pen pals?"

"You could say that," Harry shrugged. "She wanted to meet up and talk about...erm...the ICW summit in France next month."

"Oh, yes, her father has been quite helpful in that regard," Lily said thoughtfully. "Why don't you invite her here? I'd love to make her acquaintance properly."

And so a couple of days later, Fleur arrived at their home in Godric's Hollow, looking radiant as ever. "Mrs. Potter!" Fleur greeted Lily with a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for 'aving me."

"Of course, any friend of Harry's is a friend of ours!" Lily smiled back.

"Miss Delacour," James greeted her with a smile and a handshake. "Your father speaks highly of you in his letters – I look forward to meeting him in person."

"My papa is equally eager to meet you," Fleur smiled. "'E is not impressed by many men, but 'e believes you are the future of Britain."

"I'm afraid our Minister disagrees," James quipped with a sad smile, though he seemed touched by the high praise all the same.

"Won't you sit, Fleur?" Lily offered, gesturing to the table. "We can fix you something to eat."

"Actually," said Fleur, glancing at Harry, "I was rather 'oping your son could show me around zis beautiful village of yours."

"Oh...but of course," Lily said, surprised. "It's just, well, I worry about Harry being out in public, given the current climate—"

"We'll have our wands, Mum," Harry groaned. "It's not like anyone would dare attack us in broad daylight in the middle of Godric's Hollow."

"Your son saved my life twice last year, Mrs. Potter," Fleur said to Lily firmly. "I would defend 'im to the death if I 'ad to."

Lily looked floored by this deadly serious statement. "I...well...I'm sure that won't be necessary," she stammered. "Just do be careful, dears."

"Yes, and try not to get into too much trouble," James said, giving Harry a lecherous wink. Harry rolled his eyes, but Fleur seemed highly amused by this, linking her arm in Harry's and guiding him towards the door, skipping as she went.

"I really don't need my parents thinking I have a new girlfriend," Harry grumbled as they walked down the street arm in arm.

"Yes, but eet is more fun this way," Fleur giggled, before finally releasing him. "Now, are you going to tell me 'ow you managed to get kicked out of 'Ogwarts?"

"Not here," Harry muttered, indicating the many Muggles walking the streets. Normally he could pass by unnoticed, but with Fleur's passive allure, they were drawing far more attention than they were due. He guided her to a corner coffee shop that was rarely frequented, ordering them both drinks as Fleur set up wards in a corner booth to ensure their privacy.

Fleur was appalled when Harry told the full story of the Malfoy incident. "That leetle batard," she growled. "'E was always making 'orrible comments about me last year...I would 'ave hexed him for it if Madame Maxime didn't not insist we mind our manners."

"He would have just used it as an excuse to get you disqualified from the Tournament, I'm sure," Harry said bitterly. "But it doesn't matter now. He got what he wanted: me out of the picture."

"Yes, I suppose," Fleur sighed. "So what 'appens now? When do we begin searching for the next 'orcrux?"

"Soon, I hope," Harry shrugged. "I'm being watched rather closely at the moment...as soon as they get off my back, I can devote more time to the search."

"Bill is still not 'appy with ze current arrangement," said Fleur. "He still wishes to involve your Headmaster in our plans."

"Tell me about it," Harry huffed. "He practically worships the man, along with half of Britain. I dunno how to convince him that he's not the flawless savior they all think he is."

"I shall set 'im straight," Fleur said proudly. "Need I remind 'im that I should not be alive today due to 'is negligence during ze Tournament!"

"Please do," Harry chuckled. He'd been blinded in his past timeline to the fact that the entire Weasley family was far more reverential towards Dumbledore than he deserved. Even after what happened to Arthur, they continued to put faith in the man, for reasons that still eluded Harry. Hopefully Bill could be swayed otherwise this time around.

Conversation turned elsewhere as they sipped on their drinks. Fleur was still curious about Harry's past, and began prodding him for information about the universe he'd left behind. He was reluctant to talk about it – doing so always unearthed unpleasant memories, like Sirius and Cedric's deaths, and reminded him of the lost friendships (with Ron and Hermione, mainly) that he would never have again. That wasn't to mention his awful upbringing, which Fleur seemed especially intrigued by.

"Who raised you ze last time?" Fleur asked. "After your parents died, I mean?"

"My aunt and uncle, on my mum's side," Harry groaned. "Muggles. Real nasty pieces of work, they were."

"Zey did not care for you?" Fleur frowned.

"That's an understatement," Harry snorted. "They hated anything to do with magic, and saw me as a 'freak' they were saddled with instead of a child to be loved. I didn't even find out I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday."

"How 'orrible!" Fleur gasped.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "They doted on my cousin Dudley like he was the second coming, while I was cast aside. I was forced to do all the chores and wear hand-me-down clothes that didn't even fit me. They refused to buy me glasses until I was eight, even though I clearly needed them from a much younger age. And they didn't even give me my own bedroom...when my Hogwarts letter came, it was addressed to 'Harry Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs'. Can you believe that shite?"

Harry didn't even realize he was ranting until he paused for breath and looked up, only to see Fleur staring at him with a horrified expression on her face.

"Merde," she swore under her breath. "Maman was right all along."

"Sorry?"

"My mother, Apolline. When she saw you in ze Tournament last year, she said zat you had that 'look'. She sees it in her patients sometimes."

"What patients?" Harry asked, confused. "What 'look'?"

"She works with at-risk wizarding children in France," Fleur explained. "She always says zat children who are raised in abusive households 'ave a certain 'look' to them. And she says zat you 'ave that look. I thought it was impossible, zat your parents seemed quite lovely, but she is rarely wrong."

"The Dursleys weren't kind to me, that's true," Harry sighed. "They never hurt me physically, not on purpose at least...but I guess you could say I was neglected."

Fleur reached out and gently took Harry's hands in her own. "You did not deserve that," she said sincerely. "Do not blame yourself for ze way they treated you."

"I know that," Harry scoffed. "They were pricks; that much is obvious."

"All the same," Fleur sighed. "Maman says zat sometimes the obvious thing is exactly what a hurt child needs to hear."

I'm not a child, Harry thought stubbornly. But her words were soothing anyway, and he nodded quietly to himself, trying not to dwell on his unhappy years on Privet Drive for too long.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, "let's get going. I'll show you the town square."

It was cathartic to have someone to talk to about his experiences in his past life, as he strolled around town with Fleur recounting some of the more insane things that had happened to him. Bill and Saul were also confidants, sure, but Fleur was much closer to him in age and felt more like a peer than an authority figure. He could speak more freely around her, and she was a receptive audience. She laughed when he told her about her alternate self in the past timeline, and how she wound up with Bill both times.

"'E is quite the charmer," she admitted with a tiny blush. "Maman was not 'appy to learn that I am dating a curse-breaker. She always said I have a 'dangerous' taste in men – I suppose she was right."

Harry chuckled at this. Bill did give off a certain 'bad boy' energy, with his stylish wardrobe, handsome features and devil-may-care attitude towards life. Growing up with the likes of Charlie, Fred and George no doubt helped to shape his maverick persona, despite also being Head Boy and a model student in his younger years.

"And you?" asked Fleur. "Are you still seeing zat Katie girl?"

"No, we broke up earlier this year," Harry sighed. "I just...couldn't bring myself to tell her everything about myself. She's too innocent to get drawn into all the trouble I tend to attract."

"Oh, 'Arry, women are not all delicate leetle flowers that need to be protected," Fleur chided him. "Katie always struck me as a firecracker whenever we crossed paths."

"Well, she was jealous of you," Harry admitted with a chuckle. "But that's not what I meant. I just didn't feel like she was the right person to share all my secrets with. I'm not ready for that kind of intimate relationship yet."

"Ah," Fleur said knowingly. "Well, you are still young, even if your mind says otherwise. You ought to enjoy yourself more – go on casual dates, enjoy the company of others."

"I don't really have the time for that kind of thing right now," Harry smiled sadly. "There's a war going on."

"All ze more reason for love!" Fleur scoffed. "We are not granted a tomorrow, so why not make ze most of today?"

"Well, I'm sorta banned from seeing witches my age ten months out of the year now," Harry pointed out with a wry grin. "They're all locked up in a spooky castle I'm not allowed in anymore."

"I see plenty of lovely girls your age around 'ere," Fleur pointed out. She eyed a gaggle of teenage girls walking down the sidewalk, fresh out of school for the day. "Why not try your luck with one of them?"

"Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over well," Harry scoffed. "What would I even say? 'Hi, I'm Harry, the kid you've never seen before who doesn't go to any school you've ever heard of, we should hang out'?"

"Girls love a mysterious man," Fleur winked. "Just give vague answers to all their questions, and they'll want to get closer to you and learn all your secrets."

"As if I need anybody else prying into my secrets at the moment," Harry chuckled. "I'll pass."

"Come now, don't be a spoil sport!" Fleur pouted. "I can pretend to be your girlfriend – they will be so jealous of my good looks zat they will try to steal you from me!"

"Eh, don't think so highly of yourself," Harry quipped, which earned him an affronted slap to the shoulder. It was easy to push Fleur's buttons by undermining her pride, and he always found it amusing when she got frustrated at not getting her way.

They returned to the Potter home soon after, still laughing and teasing one another. Lily insisted that Fleur stay for dinner, and the four of them sat around the table that evening, getting acquainted and sharing stories from the previous year and beyond.

"I will be visiting my 'ome in France next month," Fleur announced, turning to James. "'Arry tells me you will be attending the summit...I 'ope to see the both of you at our chateau beforehand?"

James and Lily shared a nervous glance. "We, erm, hadn't discussed it quite yet," said James. "I'm not so sure if it's wise for Harry to leave the country right now—"

"Maybe I could tour Beauxbatons while I'm there," Harry offered, looking to Lily. "Y'know, to see if I might like to transfer there in the fall." He had no intention of doing so, of course, but it seemed like a useful bargaining chip in this instance.

"We'll see how his O.W.L. studies are progressing before we make that decision," Lily told Fleur. "But we appreciate the invite."

Fleur departed soon after, leaving Harry with a warm feeling in her wake. He didn't have many people he could confide in, and it was nice to have someone to talk to, even if it was about such banal things as dating and schoolwork. Fleur had mentioned a similar feeling in a recent letter: she had few friends of her own, as most girls were jealous of her and most boys could hardly string a sentence together around her. Harry hoped he could remain in touch with Fleur and rely on her to vent his frustrations when times got tough, because he knew they would before too long.

It gave him a renewed vigor to press on with his mundane daily routine. Every weekday began with his mother waking him early to study in the kitchen until lunch, after which Harry would either continue studying on his own, work out to relieve stress, or brainstorm possible hiding places for the missing horcrux(es). Then in the evenings he would practice dueling with James in the basement, learning more advanced combat techniques to help him in a real battle.

One morning, Harry awoke to the sound of rapping on his bedroom window. He pulled back the curtains to find his tawny owl Bandit sitting on the windowsill, a letter tied to his talon. "Hey, boy," Harry greeted the bird as he opened the window to let it inside. "Dahlia still taking good care of you?"

Bandit hooted his agreement. Harry and Dahlia typically shared use of the owl during the school year, and while Harry may be his primary owner, Dahlia was often the one who brought treats up to the Owlery from the Great Hall. It was clear which of the two Bandit preferred, as he'd chosen to stay at the school rather than return to Godric's Hollow after Harry's departure.

Harry untied the letter and opened it, finding his sister's tidy handwriting within:

Dear Harry,

It's been a madhouse since you got expelled. Professor Weasley rounded up every member of the defense club and grilled us for hours about it. We all ended up with a month of detentions, except for Damian, who has them until the end of the calendar year and lost all extra-curricular privileges. Apparently we are supposed to consider ourselves lucky that we are now free of your 'evil influence'.

Only thing is, it's made the whole school hate 'Prefect Percy' even more. The Weasley twins have organized student walk-outs, demonstrations, and near-daily pranks to protest your expulsion and undermine his authority. I'm worried they're going to get expelled too, but I don't think they really care if they are. The staff can't prove who's behind it, but McGonagall or Flitwick don't really seem that upset about it. Percy has threatened us with more detentions if we don't knock it off, but we already HAVE detentions so what's the point?

Hermione Granger is really upset that she got you in trouble, but I told her you wouldn't want her to blame herself. Damian feels guilty too...maybe you should write to them both and tell them it'll be okay. Malfoy got back from St. Mungo's last week and he's been even more insufferable than usual. The other Puffs won't let Damian walk alone in the halls anymore to protect him (or maybe to protect Malfoy? Hard to tell).

Speaking of which, Hufflepuff beat Ravenclaw last weekend in the Quidditch final. Cho Chang played well at Seeker, but Diggory caught the last two Snitches to clinch the win. He wanted me to tell you that he felt bad that he didn't get to avenge his loss to you last year. He's talked about trying to start up the defense club again, but I don't think anyone wants to take the chance right now.

It's strange not having you here. Everyone in Ravenclaw says it's like there's a vacuum where you should be. Did you really not realize how much people followed your lead around Hogwarts? How much you being around was a comfort to people? And they say only smart kids get into Ravenclaw...dunno why the Hat put a clueless airhead like you in there. Even Katie's said that she feels bad for not leaving things on good terms before you left. I hope you two aren't still fighting – she's a good egg.

Anyway, I miss you. Please don't do anything stupid while you're at home! I know you're probably looking up You-Know-Who's address so you can invite him for dueling practice or something. I love you, but if you wind up getting yourself hurt I'll never forgive you.

Please write soon so I know you're okay.

Love always,

Dahlia

P.S. Mark says hi. And no, you can't ask about him.

Harry smiled to himself as he folded the letter. His sister could be a real pain in the arse sometimes, but their bond remained unbreakable despite their differences.

He was relieved to hear that things were going okay back at Hogwarts. He'd been afraid that other students might hate him for exposing the defense club, but it seemed to have only galvanized them further against Percy. He remembered Fred and George's shenanigans against Umbridge in the last timeline and could only imagine the chaos they might be sowing now against their own brother.

"Wait here, and I'll send you back with a reply," Harry told Bandit as he moved to his desk. "Oi, alright, I'll bring you some sausages first!" Bandit seemed satisfied with this response, ceasing his assault on Harry's fingers and settling expectantly on the bed post.

Harry was surprised to find his father up and fully dressed in the kitchen when he went downstairs. "Going somewhere?" he asked.

"Yep," said James through a mouthful of eggs. "Following up on a lead from Kingsley. Not far from here, actually."

"Something happened in Godric's Hollow?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"There was a magical disturbance about a mile outside town," James explained. "Probably nothing, but I'm gonna take a look around."

"Can I come?" Harry asked eagerly.

James eyed his son warily. "I suppose so," he sighed. "Very unlikely we'll find any danger there, anyway."

An hour later, Harry and James were strolling through town, casually greeting the Muggle locals who eyed them funnily for their oddly-long traveling cloaks. They headed east into the countryside, turning off the main road down a dirt path that seemingly winded to nowhere across open expanses of unsettled land. It didn't seem like a well-traveled road, either; the surface was rough and uneven, making it difficult to navigate easily. Perhaps that's the intention, Harry realized.

He felt a shiver of magic as the road ended and they passed through what felt like a heavy ward field. "What was that?" Harry asked.

"We're here," James announced. But 'here' didn't seem particularly interesting – they were standing in the middle of an empty field, stretching for hundreds of yards in all directions with no major landmarks or human settlements in sight.

"What is this place?" Harry asked.

"Didn't they teach you anything in History of Magic?" James scoffed. "You never learned about the Battle of Godric's Hollow?"

Harry mentally ran through his O.W.L. notes on the subject. "In 1066?" he asked. "It was here?"

"Sure was," James said grimly. "One of the bloodiest wizard-goblin conflicts in history. Three hundred wizards and countless thousands of goblins died here."

"Isn't this where Godric Gryffindor died?" Harry asked.

"Supposedly," James shrugged. "He's buried in the cemetery in town, but it's unclear how or when he died. We know the battle happened here and that he was living in the village around that time, so it's mostly an inference."

"Why was the battle fought again?"

"Officially, it was an unprovoked goblin raid," said James. "Of course, the goblins would claim otherwise. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle – the goblins felt aggrieved by something a wizard in the village did and used it as justification for an attack."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He'd long suspected that the version of events he learned in History of Magic was heavily skewed in favor of wizardkind. Goblins were always portrayed as mindless, bloodthirsty beasts in the textbooks, but Hermione was always ranting about how unfairly they were portrayed and that their motives were never explained clearly enough. Harry was starting to think she was right.

"So why are we here, nine centuries later?" asked Harry.

"The Ministry was alerted to a magical disturbance in the area, two nights ago," said James, scanning the landscape. "The battle site is heavily warded, to deter Muggles from wandering onto it – and grave robbers, of course."

"Grave robbers?"

"Most of the fallen goblins were mass-buried here," James explained. "After the Accords of 1073, goblins were permitted back to the site to honor their fallen. It's goblin tradition for metal-workers to be buried with their creations, so lots of valuable weapons and armor is buried here. The Ministry agreed to protect the site from plunderers as part of the peace treaty."

"D'you think that's what this disturbance was about?" asked Harry.

"Most likely," James shrugged. "This was an unusually large spike in magical energy, however. Dawlish declined to investigate, so Kingsley passed it along to me. Given how close to home it is, I figure it's worth investigating."

Harry agreed. He'd never known how close they lived to a major historical site, and it was disconcerting to know that something significant had happened here. Could Voldemort be behind this somehow?

Harry followed along behind James silently as the man strode carefully through the field, waving his wand and surveying the land for traces of magic. It was slow and tedious work with little progress, and Harry started to regret asking to come along. He could've used this time to study for his exams, or maybe even do research for the next horcrux hunt—

"You, there! Halt!"

Harry was snapped out of his reverie by the barked order. He whipped out his wand and aimed it, along with James, at the sudden new presence. Three goblins had emerged from over a nearby hill, fully clad in combat armor and wielding heavy battle axes, leering menacingly at the two wizards.

"You're not welcome here, wizard," snarled the one at the front.

"I come in peace from the Ministry of Magic," James lied smoothly. "I am here to investigate the disturbance of two nights prior, nothing more."

"Drop yer weapons if you know what's good for ya," another goblin sneered.

"We agree to lower our weapons if you will do the same," said James. "We do not seek conflict."

The goblins considered this. Eventually, they decided the wands were a bigger threat than the axes and relented. "Fine," one spat, lowering their axes as James sheathed his wand and signaled for Harry to do the same.

"You wizards was supposed to leave this place to the goblins," another goblin growled. "Not steal and plunder as you please."

"The Ministry of Magic has agreed to uphold this agreement," said James. "Any attempts at theft by a wizard are expressly forbidden by our laws."

"And yet, the end result is the same!" spat the head goblin. "More goblin creations, stolen from our people by humans!"

"Was anything of value taken two nights ago?" asked James. "I can report it missing, and we will investigate the theft."

"Pah!" another goblin scoffed. "Spare us your lies, wizard! Nothing taken from here is ever returned to us. Your words are empty and meaningless."

Harry wanted to refute the goblin's accusation, but could not. After all, Dawlish had seemingly declined to investigate the matter officially...it seemed the Ministry didn't care too much for enforcing this anti-plundering law after all.

"I only wish to be of assistance," James said diplomatically. "If there is anything I can do to help, say the word."

"Yes, there is something you can do," said the head goblin. "Leave this place. And deliver a message to Cornelius Fudge: we goblins grow tired of these repeated transgressions, and the next wizard who visits this place will be met with force."

"The Ministry will not take kindly to an unprovoked attack on a wizard—" James said warningly.

"But it wouldn't be unprovoked, would it?" Harry spoke up. "Perhaps the Ministry ought to put out a statement condemning the act and warning of possible retribution in the future. That might deter future robbers from coming here."

"The youngling speaks wisely," the head goblin appraised him. "We do not seek war, but we will continue to defend what is ours."

"As will we," James bristled. "We will leave you in peace. Come on, Harry, let's go."

Harry didn't hesitate to follow his father hurriedly from the field. They returned to the dirt path, feeling the wash of magic over them as they left the warded area.

"Bloody bastards," James said bitterly as they returned to town. "Brandishing weapons at us in broad daylight – what gall! They've gotten too bold for their own good lately—"

"But they aren't wrong," Harry pointed out. "It sounds like something valuable was stolen from them, and they're sick of being picked on."

"As if they haven't plundered our graves over the years!" James scoffed. "The whole reason Godric's Hollow placed its cemetery in the center of town was to prevent goblins from ransacking Gryffindor's tomb for his sword."

"Was the sword buried with him?" asked Harry, suddenly curious.

"If it was, it's not there any longer," said James. "Been missing for centuries, that sword. The Goblin Rebellion of 1680 happened because the Ministry officially accused the goblin nation of stealing it, which they took major offense to. They claim the sword was stolen from them by Gryffindor in the first place, but to this day they deny ever taking it back."

Harry had never given much thought to where the Sword of Gryffindor could be in this timeline. Where had it been in his previous timeline, before he pulled it out of the Sorting Hat? Was he the first student to ever do so? Had it been resting in some tomb somewhere, or perhaps hidden away in some goblin lair or thief's den?

Was the Sword perhaps related to this incident? Saul Croaker still suspected it could be a horcrux, and Harry couldn't completely discount the possibility. What if Voldemort still sought it out, and ordered one of his minions to search for it? Was it perhaps buried in one of the goblins' graves, back in that field? Had someone succeeded in stealing it two nights prior?

He tucked this theory away for future reference, planning to bring it up with Saul the next time they met. He had to start taking the horcrux hunt more seriously, which meant that he couldn't just discard potential leads like this. He had no idea where to look for the next horcrux and knew they would have to begin somewhere.

But in the meantime, he had studying to do. Lily arranged for Harry to sit his O.W.L.'s with Madam Marchbanks at the beginning of July. "She doesn't grant individual appointments to just anyone," she informed him sternly. "So don't squander this opportunity."

"I won't," Harry assured her. He suspected that Marchbanks had agreed only because of his impressive performance in the three exams he took last fall. He had high expectations for himself as well – he knew his grades wouldn't necessarily matter in the long run, but he didn't want his past five years of study to be totally wasted. He knew he could achieve all O's if he worked hard at it.

Dueling practice was also bringing massive returns. Harry felt that he was nearing his father's skill level, and while he still lost most duels to James' advanced transfiguration techniques, he was rapidly improving with each defeat. Lily was appalled when she learned they were using Bone-Breakers in combat, especially one night when Harry landed a shot to James' torso that fractured his rib cage. Both of them brushed her off, insisting that it was valuable practice. They'd each broken plenty of bones playing Quidditch – what difference did a couple more make?

May came to an end, ushering in June and its longer, muggier days. Harry began to grow stir-crazy stuck in the house all day, listening to Muggle children happily run by down the lane and day-dreaming of flying on his Firebolt. But Lily refused to let him stray far from the house, only permitting him to jog around the block in the mornings and occasionally accompany her or James into town for errands. This wasn't exactly the freedom Harry envisioned when he left Hogwarts, and knew that once his O.W.L.'s were complete, he would have to bargain for a more flexible arrangement that allowed him to do what he needed to do.

But that all changed one fateful evening later that month. Harry wrapped up his studying for the night and headed up to bed, just as James was hurried down the stairs, fully dressed and preparing to go out. "Stakeout?" Harry asked hopefully. "Can I come?"

"There's been a murder," James said grimly as he reached for his traveling cloak. "Kingsley just told me – Aurors are arriving on scene. I've got maybe half an hour to look around before Dawlish shows up."

"You think it's related to the war?" Harry asked.

"Must be, if Kingsley thinks I should be involved," James muttered. "You'd best stay behind on this one."

"I can handle a dead body," Harry retorted. "I've seen my fair share by now. I want to know what's going on."

James sighed and massaged his temple. "Alright," he conceded. "But this is an active crime scene – you must stay out of the way and follow every instruction I give you, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed readily. He followed James out to the backyard, where they linked arms and Apparated away. They touched down in a sleepy residential neighborhood, reminding Harry sickeningly for a moment of Privet Drive.

"Where are we?" Harry asked as they made their way down the street.

"Croydon," said James. "Just south of London. This is a Muggle neighborhood mostly, but some Ministry employees live in the area as well."

"Was that who was murdered?" Harry asked. "A Ministry employee?"

"Dunno yet," James shrugged. "Have to talk to Kingsley to get the details."

They rounded the corner and came upon a row of townhouses. A police car was parked in the road, lights flashing, guarding a home surrounded by yellow tape. Two Muggle officers stood beside the car, looking bored as they spoke with a middle-aged woman in a bathrobe and slippers.

"...And then I heard voices, maybe three or four of 'em, shouting at each other," the woman recounted. "Then I guess they musta fought, but I swear, it sounded like they were cracking whips at each other!" Spellfire, Harry deduced – that was the closest analogy a Muggle could make to hearing such a foreign sound.

"Uh huh," said one of the policemen, looking bored as he listened to the woman ramble on. They both had a sort of glazed-over look about them – Harry deduced that they must have been placed under a Confundus Charm to allow the Aurors to do their work uninterrupted. James simply ignored them and slipped beneath the yellow tape, Harry close behind.

"Good to see you, Potter," a gruff-looking Auror stationed outside the door greeted James. "Who's the kid?"

"My son, Harry," said James. "Harry, this is Auror Proudfoot."

Harry shook hands with the paranoid-looking man. "Best wait outside, Harry," said Proudfoot. "Not a pretty sight in there."

"You wait here, Harry," James instructed. "I'm going to talk to Kingsley and have a quick look around, then we'll go."

"But—" Harry tried to protest, just as James slipped through the open door and into the townhouse. He groaned...he didn't sign up to just wait outside in the cold and not find out what was going on.

"Your dad's a good bloke, Potter," said Proudfoot, fishing a cigarette out of his cloak and lighting it with his wand. "Shame what Fudge did to 'im."

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. It was heartening to hear that James at least still had the respect of his fellow Aurors despite the firing. How many more Ministry employees secretly felt the same way, and were cowed into submission by the threat of termination? It made him boil with rage at Fudge and Malfoy all over again.

Another Auror arrived on scene soon after, and Proudfoot sauntered over to engage him in casual conversation. Harry seized the moment and cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm on himself before slipping into the home. He wasn't leaving here without answers.

It was a simple enough abode: a small sitting room, a kitchen, and two bedrooms down the hall. By the looks of it, only one or two people lived here, and they hadn't bothered to decorate the place much. There were signs of a struggle everywhere...shattered glass littering the kitchen floor; scorch marks on the walls from spellfire; deep gouges in the carpet. Harry watched on, unnoticed, as a handful of Aurors swept through the space, assessing the damage and writing in little notepads.

The fight seemed to have moved from the entrance area to the bedrooms, and Harry made his way down the narrow hallway towards the sound of voices. His heart began to beat faster as he approached – he could not shake a terrible sense of foreboding. Something terrible had happened here, and he was beginning to think he knew the victim personally. But how?

James' voice wafted out of the far bedroom, and Harry dropped his charm as he crept towards the door. "...had to be Lockhart, or whatever that bastard is calling himself now," James was muttering. "The damage is consistent with what happened to Trelawney last year."

"There seemed to be multiple assailants," came Kingsley's deep baritone in response. "Poor man put up a good fight, but he must have simply been overwhelmed by too many wands."

"Well, let me know if forensics find anything during the autopsy," James sighed. "It's pretty obvious to you and me what they were after, but I doubt Dawlish puts the pieces together himself—"

"Dad?" Harry announced himself as he entered the room. "What's going on?"

James and Kingsley froze as Harry approached. The latter shuffled to his right, blocking Harry's view of what looked to be a dead body lying prone in the corner.

"Harry, you shouldn't be in here," said James firmly. "Go back outside, now."

"What's happened here?" Harry demanded. "Whose home is this?"

James looked at Harry with a sorrowful expression, one that made Harry's heart pound all the more quickly. "Harry, I'm very sorry," he said softly. "I know you two were close."

"What are you talking about?" said Harry. "Who—?"

Kingsley reluctantly shifted aside to let him see what he was hiding, and Harry's heart stopped. The scene was indeed similar to Trelawney's final moments the year before: a still body, lying face-up on the ground, blood pouring liberally from the eyes and ears. The victim's mouth was open in a silent scream, indicating that his final moments had not been pleasant. Harry's eyes widened in horror at the sight of Saul Croaker dead on the ground, vacant eyes fixed unseeingly upon the ceiling.