Year 6-12: Trouble Brewing

DARK WIZARD EVADES AUROR FORCES OUTSIDE LONDON!

By Regina Hornsby, The Daily Prophet

"In the early hours of Sunday the Ninth of March, the British Auror Office was alerted to an illegal international portkey activation from the continent. A team of eight elite Aurors was dispatched to apprehend the user, but the individual escaped custody.

'This was a dangerous and skilled individual who clearly had combat experience,' said Head Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt in a statement to the press. 'He was able to fend off multiple veteran Aurors and use the element of surprise to his advantage. We regret to inform the public that this individual remains at-large within Great Britain, and urge caution when dealing with unknown individuals in the coming weeks.'

Sources within the Ministry indicate that the portkey originated in Bulgaria. The Balkan nation's Minister of Magic, Silvia Borisova, recently announced that she had directed her own Auror Office to conduct a raid of an illegal creature smuggling and fighting ring in the capital that same day. It is unclear if the two incidents are related.

Minister James Potter seized upon the moment to repeat his call for assistance from the International Confederation of Warlocks. 'Dark witches and wizards are pouring into our country and joining [REDACTED]'s service every day,' he said in a statement of his own Sunday evening. 'The period of calm we find ourselves in is temporary, and we may find ourselves at a disadvantage if we do not act now to bolster our forces. I am calling once again for the ICW to release emergency troops to assist Britain in the fight against [REDACTED].'

The Prophet was unable to verify whether the wizard in question was in fact in league with You-Know-Who. Minister Potter has drawn scrutiny in recent months for his aggressive tactics to capture followers of the Dark Lord, including several false arrests, such as Lord Quincy Nott, who was reinstated to the Wizengamot earlier this month. For more on Potter's aggressive (and controversial) war strategies, see pg. 9."

Harry set down his copy of the Prophet, trying his best to act natural and not give away the fact that his heart was hammering out of his chest. The last thing he'd expected was to make national headlines for his harrowing escape from Bulgaria. The only consolation was that he hadn't been identified, and Krum must have worked wonders on his end to make sure nobody tied him to the incident.

Fortunately, nobody in the Great Hall paid him much mind; they were busy buzzing over the article themselves, talking excitedly to one another about the development. "Must have been a really powerful wizard to take down eight Aurors," Terry Boot remarked from down the aisle.

"He didn't 'take down' eight Aurors; it just says he escaped," Michael Corner corrected. "And maybe the Aurors didn't send their best people."

"My father says Kingsley Shacklebolt is the best of the best," Padma Patil chimed in. "He was even assigned to protect the Muggle Prime Minister for a time."

"So what? That's a nothing job," scoffed Anthony Goldstein. "How hard is it to keep some random Muggle safe?"

Harry's thoughts drifted elsewhere as his House mates debated the merits and hardships of protecting Muggle politicians. He hadn't planned on causing a major incident with his return to Britain, but maybe it could be spun into a positive. If it helped James convince the ICW to provide reserve troops for the war effort, it would be worth it, wouldn't it?

As his classmates continued to debate around him, Harry grabbed his things and left for his first class of the day. However, as he headed for the Potions classroom, Dahlia fell into step with him, steering him down a quiet corridor to talk.

"Was this you?" his sister demanded, brandishing her copy of the Prophet in front of his face.

"Er…" Harry stammered, surprised she had put the pieces together so quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"I'm not stupid!" she huffed. "You summoned me to your safe house yesterday to patch you up from what looked like a Graphorn spearing, without telling me what it is and expecting me to keep quiet. Now some mystery wizard shows up in Britain, fresh from an animal fighting ring, and fights off half a dozen Aurors? What the hell have you gotten yourself into?!"

"It's nothing," Harry insisted. "Honestly, Dahlia. I didn't know a Graphorn was going to be there, and I didn't mean to alert the Aurors when I came back. Nothing that bad happened. The reporters are grasping at straws."

"Why were you in bloody Bulgaria?" Dahlia demanded. "Why were you fighting magical creatures at all? There's a rumor that there was a Lethifold there!"

"There was," Harry nodded. "I killed it. The remains are at the safe house as we speak."

If that was supposed to reassure Dahlia, it only seemed to horrify her more. "I don't understand why you're doing this, Harry," she whined. "You're going to get yourself killed one of these days, and I won't be able to heal you every time. How am I supposed to explain any of this to Mum and Dad?"

"You're not getting rid of me that easy," Harry quipped, using her own line against her. "I promise, it's necessary for the war effort. I got us one step closer to beating Voldemort last night."

"How, by getting gored by a Graphorn?" Dahlia demanded. "By sending Tonks to the hospital?"

"That's not—" Harry protested, before pausing. "I didn't know Tonks was in the hospital. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she'll be fine," Dahlia said dismissively. "You threw a bloody boulder at her head, though. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking it would be a scandal if the Minister's son was caught in an illegal Bulgarian fighting ring," said Harry. "I'm doing this to keep my family out of danger. That includes you, by the way. Whoever tried to kill you is going to regret it once I figure out who it is."

Dahlia still did not look pleased in the slightest. "I don't like this," she whispered. "I know Dumbledore's full of shite saying you're going dark, but maybe he's right that you're biting off more than you can chew."

"I'm not alone," Harry reminded her. "Fleur and Bill have been helping me, and Viktor Krum was with me last night. I promise I have it under control."

Dahlia nodded uncertainly. Curiosity seemed to get the better of her, because she eventually asked, "Did you say you have Lethifold remains? Those are extremely rare."

"I do," Harry nodded. "I was planning to do some brewing with them this weekend. Want to help me?"

He knew his sister would be unable to resist the opportunity to brew using such a rare ingredient. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and a smile spread across her face. "Fine," she said. "Someone has to be there to make sure you don't inhale the fumes and paralyze yourself."

Harry laughed and gave her a reassuring hug before continuing on to class. His bond with Dahlia had grown stronger ever since she rescued him from the botched ritual. He knew eventually he would share more of his secrets with her, but did not want to worry her further than she already was. If she was this freaked out by him facing down a single Graphorn, he couldn't imagine telling her that he was secretly a time-traveler hunting down pieces of Voldemort's soul.

In the meantime, Harry planned to keep his head down and go about his routine. He made sure to ask lots of questions in class, spend time with his classmates at meals, and generally make himself present so that nobody questioned where he was. Who would suspect him of being the mysterious dark wizard in the papers when he was acting like a normal carefree student?

That Friday, he spent the evening in his mother's office, as was his custom. He chatted about half a dozen different topics to satiate her desire to be a part of his life, including how his lessons were going, the progress of the Quidditch team, and other mundane topics. Lily seemed distracted, which wasn't uncommon nowadays, but something seemed to weigh particularly heavy on her now.

"You alright, Mum?" Harry asked gently. "You look like you're a million miles away."

"Oh, I'm just tired," Lily sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Long week."

"Same here," Harry agreed. "Looking forward to relaxing this weekend."

Lily gave her son an odd look at this comment. "Speaking of which," she said, "I noticed you missed your second Dueling Club meeting in a row last Sunday. Where were you?"

"Studying," Harry lied. "I don't have time for those meetings anymore."

"What?" said Lily, aghast. "But you're such a good role model for the younger students!"

"Maybe I don't want to be a role model," Harry groaned. "Just because Dad's the Minister means I have to be the example student for everyone to look up to?"

"People look up to you regardless of who your father is," Lily pointed out. "So tough luck, mister. Besides, I thought running the club was part of the deal you made with the Headmaster last summer?"

"It was," Harry shrugged. "But so was him giving me private lessons, and he stopped doing those, so why should I uphold my end of the bargain?"

"Professor Dumbledore has stopped tutoring you?" Lily frowned. "But why?"

"Doesn't matter," Harry sighed. "They were a waste of time anyway."

"Harry, you have to convince him to resume those lessons," said Lily. "You have so much you can learn from him!"

"What does it matter if he refuses to teach anything useful to me?" Harry asked. "He's past his prime anyway, and he doesn't think I'm worth his time. I'd rather self-study."

"I'm going to have a word with him about this," Lily muttered fretfully.

"No, you won't," Harry said firmly. "I don't need my mum sticking up for me. Dumbledore and I don't see eye to eye, and if he doesn't want to teach me, I'm not going to grovel and ask him to take me back. I have more self-respect than that."

Lily looked deeply troubled by this new development. She opened one of her desk drawers and rummaged through it, pulling out a glass bottle of clear liquid. "Gin?" she offered, reaching to a nearby shelf for a pair of glasses.

"Erm...is this a trick question?" Harry chuckled. "I'm not of-age yet."

"Right, like you've never had a drop of alcohol before," Lily deadpanned with a wry smile. "C'mon, help me with this bottle. I've got half a dozen of them that were gifted to me at the Slug Club party."

Bemused, Harry accepted the glass and took a gulp of the bitter liquid. Lily downed her own glass in a single deep swill, before pouring herself another liberal serving.

"Seriously, Mum, is everything okay?" Harry repeated. "You seem on-edge."

Lily took another deep swig of her drink before leaning back tiredly in her chair. "It's nothing, dear, honestly," she muttered. Harry continued to look at her worriedly, until she finally blurted out, "Your father and I have just been rowing, that's all."

"You have?" asked Harry, surprised. He had never heard his parents so much as raise their voices at each other before. "What about?"

"I wanted to pull you and Dahlia out of Hogwarts after the Hogsmeade incident," Lily sighed. "Britain isn't safe for us anymore. But James insisted that we stay together and present a unified front. He thinks that it could cause a panic if the Potters fled the country."

"I doubt anyone would begrudge us for it," Harry reasoned. "Considering how many times we've been targeted over the past few years."

"That's what I told him," Lily muttered. "And we're practically separated from him anyway, with Hogwarts being so far away from London. Hell, even Beauxbatons is closer to the Ministry! But your father can be very strong-willed at times, and he wouldn't hear a word otherwise. Petunia thinks that I – oh, I shouldn't be telling you about all this. It's nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Even a year prior, Harry would have scoffed at the idea of leaving Britain. But now, he was starting to think it was a wise move to keep his family safe. Lily and Dahlia were prime targets for Voldemort, and last month's incident proved that even here at Hogwarts they weren't perfectly safe. He could continue planning the horcrux hunt overseas with Fleur, maybe even with Viktor, and visit his safe house only as necessary.

"Maybe things would be different if Dumbledore didn't allow Death Eaters to roam free in the castle," Harry said bitterly.

"I hope you don't mean Draco Malfoy," Lily frowned. "Severus told me that he caught you waiting for him outside the Slytherin common room the other day. You have to leave that boy alone."

"I wasn't gonna hurt him," Harry groaned. "Just ask him some questions, that's all."

"He has already been cleared of wrongdoing in your sister's accident," said Lily. "And he is having a difficult enough time right now with what his family is going through. Do not antagonize him further, Harry, I mean it."

Why is everyone so keen on protecting Draco? Harry thought bitterly. Snape he could understand, having sworn an oath to Narcissa, but Lily? Did she not realize how dangerous Draco could be? How easily he could manipulate someone into believing he wasn't a threat, only to stab them in the back?

"Fine," Harry grumbled unhappily, as he packed his things. "I've got some homework to work on. I'll see you on Monday."

"Good night, dear," said Lily, standing to give Harry a kiss on the cheek. "Try to stay out of trouble this weekend, will you?"

"I will," said Harry. Compared to battling Graphorns and fighting Aurors on two different continents, he figured what he had planned for tomorrow qualified as 'staying out of trouble' in a relative sense.

He couldn't leave the school grounds right away, however, as he had scheduled a Quidditch practice for Saturday morning. As frivolous as the sport felt compared to everything else going on right now, Ravenclaw House was desperate for a Cup victory over Hufflepuff this year, and Harry felt the pressure to deliver it to them. Without Cedric captaining the enemy team, he felt confident he could win the match single-handedly.

"C'mon, Frasier!" Harry shouted, blowing the whistle once more to pause their scrimmage. "You have to be more precise with your Bludger hits than that!"

"But I forced Boot to drop his bat," Amy Frasier protested; indeed, the team's other Beater, Terry Boot, was currently swooping down to the pitch to retrieve his dropped tool.

"Only because he flinched," said Harry. "Damian Dursley's got nerves of steel, and you can't rattle him as easily with close calls. Your shots have to be on-target, or you won't faze him one bit."

"Remind me why we're targeting the enemy Beaters instead of their Chasers and Keeper?" asked an exhausted Cho Chang. "Scoring goals will be much easier if we can disrupt their defenses."

"Their Keeper and Chasers are also adept at avoiding Bludgers," said Harry. "And Dursley is their best player right now. If we can disrupt him, we'll have a better time implementing our own game plan."

What Harry didn't want to say is that the Hufflepuff Chasers were simply better than Ravenclaw's. The match against Gryffindor had exposed his team's weakness with the Quaffle, as despite their undefeated record, they wouldn't be anywhere near the top of the standings without Harry. He knew Damian was the one person standing between him and the Snitch, and had privately decided he didn't care about the Quaffle score – he was just going to win on his own terms.

One thing giving him confidence was his improved reflexes from the blood ritual. He'd never felt so aware of his surroundings before, so tuned in to every little thing happening on the pitch. He could spot Snitches within seconds of them appearing; could feel Bludgers coming from a mile away; he even had a knack for analyzing body language and when someone was making a feint or a legitimate move.

Harry's leg wound was also healing at a rapid rate, far faster than with any prior wound he'd received. Dahlia of course worked wonders when she patched him up at the safe house, but even she warned that it could take weeks before he was fully healed. Yet now, only six days later, all that remained of the wound was a slight discoloration in his hip and a bit of numbness in the mornings. Krum's theory seemed to be correct: the side effects of the potion fumes mixed in with the blood ritual seemed to have improved his body's natural healing properties.

Did that give Harry an unfair advantage? He felt a bit guilty, knowing that he had augmented his body in ways his peers had little hope of replicating through natural means. But then again, wasn't his existence in this timeline an unfair advantage in the first place? He had five years' experience with the sport before he even began his first year. Sure, he'd worked hard, but he also came in with a skill set nobody his age ought to have.

Once practice was over, Harry took a quick shower and slipped out behind the stadium where he could be alone. "Dobby!" he called out.

With a small pop, the house-elf appeared before him. "Yes, Mister Harry Potter?" asked Dobby.

"I need you to take me to Raven House," he said. "And could you go and fetch Dahlia after? She said she wanted to join me."

"Miss Dahlia is already at Raven House, sir!" Dobby said excitedly. "She asked me to take her this morning!"

Of course she did, Harry thought. Dahlia had been slowly invading the safe house as of late, making alterations to the layout without asking Harry first and even coming over uninvited. He supposed he owed her for keeping quiet about the whole thing, but it still felt like his cool clubhouse was being invaded by his little sister.

He found her upstairs in the potions room as expected, deep in concentration over a cauldron as she stirred in new ingredients. "What are you making?" he asked her.

"Cleaning solution," she muttered. "If you're not going to do anything about the mold and dry rot in the walls, I will."

"Great, thanks," Harry sighed. "No one's forcing you to stay here, you know. It's kinda my place, and you're just visiting."

Dahlia shot him a scathing look. "I come in here and save your life twice in as many months, and this is how you repay me?" she scoffed.

"I'm pretty sure my count is up to three in saving yours, so you still owe me one," Harry fired back.

"Touché," Dahlia smirked. "So where are these Lethifold remains you were going on about?"

Harry opened the cabinet and carefully pulled out the marble box he'd placed the remains in. Dahlia insisted that they each apply Bubble-Head Charms and wear protective gloves before handling it. Harry transfigured a lid onto the box and pried it open it, allowing Dahlia to peer inside.

"Merlin, I thought you were joking," she breathed. "How the hell did you kill it?"

"Patronus Charm," Harry shrugged. "The owner wasn't happy, so it would be wonderful if it didn't get out that I was the one to do it."

"Sure, because that's why I haven't told anyone," Dahlia said dryly. "What are you planning to do with it?"

"Sell some of it," said Harry. "But I think I want to use the majority to brew some Veritaserum and Thief's Downfall."

"Those are incredibly complex recipes," Dahlia muttered.

"Good thing I have you to help me," Harry quipped. "Or do you think it's too much of a challenge for you?"

As Harry suspected, Dahlia didn't take well to the dig, shooting him a nasty glare. "Of course I can handle it," she snapped. "Move aside, idiot, I'll start on the Veritaserum."

Bemused, Harry stepped aside to watch his sister work. She was in her element here, intensely focused on a task, whether it was repairing a gored hip or brewing one of the most complex potions known to wizardkind. Dahlia may not be a great duelist in a war situation, but she had a unique ability to stay calm under pressure and help those who badly needed it, and he admired her deeply for it.

Harry knew she would reprimand him for interrupting her flow state by trying to help, so he settled in the corner with a recipe book and began scouring for more useful potions he could brew. Wiggenweld Potion was a must for treating minor injuries, and he could see obvious value in having some Skele-Gro around. There was also a recipe for something called Felix Felicis that sounded interesting – he didn't know how a 'luck potion' worked, but a little luck never hurt anybody.

"So how are things with Tracey going?" Dahlia asked casually as she stirred her concoction.

"What do you mean by 'things'?" Harry asked. "We aren't dating."

"So I've heard," Dahlia smirked up at him. "But Ginny saw her dragging you into an empty classroom on Wednesday. Just catching up on some studying, were you?"

"So what?" said Harry, rolling his eyes. "We're just keeping things casual. There's no emotions involved."

"Hmm," Dahlia hummed as she returned to her cauldron.

"Hmm what?"

"Nothing," Dahlia shrugged. "Does she make you happy?"

"I—what do you mean?" said Harry. "I mean, yeah, sure, I enjoy spending time with her. Why, d'you have a problem with me sneaking around with her?"

"That's not what I meant," said Dahlia. "You just seem really stressed and on-edge lately. I want to see you with someone who helps with that, that's all."

"Well, she does," Harry said stubbornly. "So you don't need to meddle, thank you very much."

"Alright, sorry," Dahlia sighed. "Forget I asked."

"What about you and Neville?" Harry demanded. "Does he make you happy?"

Dahlia scowled at the mention of the boy. "Neville Longbottom is a really good person," she sighed. "But he's also an idiot, not unlike yourself. He needs to learn how to take the initiative in life instead of letting the adults dictate everything for him."

Harry was surprised to feel the sudden impulse to defend Neville. "He's under a lot of pressure, you know," he said diplomatically.

"So are you," Dahlia pointed out. "And you rose to the occasion. So why can't he?"

"That's different," said Harry. "I was prepared for the war. He didn't realize it was coming until it had already arrived."

"Right, with your 'visions' or whatever," Dahlia muttered. "Funny, I haven't heard mention of any lately. What happened, did you lose your Sight in the last year or something?"

As a matter of fact I did, Harry thought glumly. But he didn't want to delve into his true backstory right now. "I'm just saying, you should go easy on him," Harry shrugged. "He didn't deserve to be put in the position he's in now, and he shouldn't be punished for falling short of impossible standards."

Dahlia eyed Harry curiously. "I thought you would've hated Neville," she remarked. "After everything he's said about our family, and how you treated all my other exes. Why defend him now?"

"I can't really explain it," Harry shrugged. "I feel a bond with him, you know? It could have easily been me in his place as a baby, but Voldemort chose him. I at least owe it to him to watch his back when I can."

Dahlia pondered these words in contemplative silence. "Don't lean against the cauldron, idiot," she huffed as she returned to her work. Harry hastily removed his elbow from the simmering cauldron to his left, returning to his own reading. He still didn't care much about what happened in the saga between Neville and Dahlia, but at least the Boy-Who-Lived deserved a chance at love without unfair expectations standing in his way of it.

Truthfully, Harry was far more bothered by his sister's words about his own love life. She thinks I'm not happy with Tracey? Harry thought. That's bollocks! I enjoy her company – what does Dahlia even know about it?

He stubbornly decided to prove her wrong by going out of his way to spend more time with Tracey outside of their occasional trysts around the castle. He sat with her at the Slytherin table for breakfast the following morning, and later joined her in the library with Daphne to work on homework together. Tracey seemed surprised that he wanted to spend casual time with her, but she didn't comment on it.

At one point Harry paused in the middle of his Transfiguration essay to glance over at Tracey in the seat beside him. She was engrossed in her Astronomy textbook, muttering to herself as she parsed through the dense text. Her right hand was resting idly on the table, and Harry instinctively brought his own hand to hers, interlocking their fingers together.

Tracey flinched at his touch, pulling her hand away. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Er...holding your hand?" Harry chuckled awkwardly. "Is that okay?"

Tracey eyed him curiously. "I suppose so," she said, returning her hand to his. "I just didn't think you were the PDA type, Potter."

"We don't have to," Harry said quickly, moving to pull his hand away. "I didn't mean to catch you off-guard—"

"It's fine," said Tracey, keeping hold of his hand. "Just surprised me, is all." And their fingers remained intertwined as she returned to her reading. But the mood was tense now, and Harry could hardly focus on his own work. He could tell Tracey was distracted too. Had he overstepped? Was he reading too much into the relationship? Had he freaked Tracey out with the open display of intimacy?

To his relief, Tracey excused herself to the restroom soon after, leaving Harry and Daphne alone at the table. Harry continued working on his essay, but now sensed that Daphne was agitated by something, tapping her foot rapidly against the table as she scowled into her textbook. Eventually he set his own quill down to confront her.

"You seem anxious, Greengrass," he remarked. "Something the matter?"

"No, nothing," Daphne huffed. Harry quirked an eyebrow at her, and she gave him an exasperated look. "Theodore Nott rescinded his marriage contract offer last week. He will no longer be courting me."

"Good riddance," Harry said at once. "You two didn't seem to get along very well in Hogsmeade."

"That's besides the point!" Daphne sighed. "I come of-age in just four weeks, and I have yet to find a suitable mate! I'm running out of time to secure my future!"

"You don't have to get engaged at sixteen to have a bright future, Daphne," Harry said, gently but firmly. "You'll have plenty of time to meet the right person, whether it's here at Hogwarts or out in the real world after graduation."

"You don't understand!" Daphne whined. "It's different for women, Harry! We're seen as damaged goods if we aren't young and in high demand. I may be forced to accept a suitor of a lower station, which would bring dishonor upon my family name!"

Harry sighed; he was tired of having this argument with Daphne. "Well, then I wish you luck with your next suitor," he muttered, returning to his essay. Daphne returned to her own textbook, but after a moment, set it down again and turned to face him.

"What is it about me that you find undesirable?" Daphne demanded.

"Come again?" asked Harry, perplexed.

"Is it my nose?" Daphne asked. "I've been told it's too small for my face. Or my flat chest? It's not ideal, I grant you, but there are potions and rituals that can fix that—"

"It's nothing to do with your looks, Daphne!" Harry laughed awkwardly. "You're a beautiful girl. I've told you I'm not looking to date anyone right now."

"But I thought…" Daphne stammered. "You and Tracey...I assumed you just thought she was prettier than I was…"

"That's not why we're together," said Harry. "She doesn't expect me to get engaged or any of that nonsense. It's just some harmless fun with no strings attached. I have a feeling you wouldn't be interested in that."

"No, it would be quite improper," Daphne agreed. "But you would be open to a pairing in the future? Even if I was older?"

"Why are you insistent on us getting married?" Harry groaned. "What is it about me specifically? What makes me such a suitable mate?"

"That should be obvious," Daphne scoffed. "You come from good stock. Your father's Minister and you could easily become one yourself one day. People view you as a leader, and I trust that you wouldn't lead our family to financial ruin."

"Those are all to do with my status, not my personality," Harry pointed out. "You barely even know me as a person."

"That's not true!" Daphne protested. "We talk all the time!"

"Who's my favorite professor?"

"Your mother, duh."

"Nope, Professor Flitwick. When's my birthday?"

"Er...November? You strike me as a Scorpio."

"I'm a Leo," Harry chuckled. "What's my favorite dessert?"

Daphne scowled; clearly she didn't know the answer to this either. "So you want someone with a photographic memory," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "Right, got it."

"That's not my point," said Harry. "Let me ask you this: why are you and Tracey such good friends?"

Daphne blinked slowly. "She's kind, and fun to be around," she said. "She doesn't tease me when I share private things about myself. And she just gets me on a deeper level."

"So why don't you value those things highly in a mate?" asked Harry.

"I do!"

"Am I not any of those things?"

"Sure you are!"

"But you didn't list any of them as reasons for wanting to marry me," said Harry. "And those are the things you should be thinking about when looking for a life partner. Hell, look at Tracey and Mark's grandmother...she ran off with a Muggle and found happiness that way!"

"And her family was ridiculed for it," Daphne scoffed.

"Well, my dad married a lower-class Muggle-born and he's Minister now," Harry huffed. "Not to mention he's happily in love to this day. I'll be honest, Daphne – I don't think we would be a good match. Not because I don't like you or think you're unattractive, but because we have clashing personalities. We would drive each other crazy, and neither of us deserves that. Do you really want to be trapped in an unhappy marriage twenty years from now?"

Daphne looked down at the table glumly. Harry got the sense that she hadn't really thought that far ahead before. Maybe she naively assumed that if it was a good financial and status match, everything else would come out clean in the wash.

"I'm just saying," Harry shrugged, standing to leave. "Think about what it is you want. Not what you think is best for your future or whatever." He packed his things to go, leaving Daphne to silently mull over his words.

Harry cared about Daphne as a friend, but he sure wasn't going to be the person to hold her hand through the basics of building a lasting relationship. He barely had time for that himself. All of his past (and frankly, current) romantic relationships had been dysfunctional and confusing at best. As guilty as he felt thinking it, he was grateful for the privilege of being a male and not having to rush into such things so young.

As he made his way across the library to the exit, an unexpected voice called after him: "Hey, Harry! Over here!" He turned; Hermione was waving to him, Neville and Ron at the table with her. Harry had not spent much time with the trio since Christmas, and they were tentatively back on good terms now, so he made his way over and took the empty seat beside Neville.

"Hey, guys," he greeted them. "Enjoying your Sunday?"

"We were, before Hermione dragged us down here to study before the Dueling Club meeting," Ron grumbled. "It's not even our N.E.W.T. year yet!"

"Well, it doesn't hurt to be prepared," Hermione said primly.

"She's not wrong," Harry chuckled. "Not studying with Sally-Anne today, Ron?"

Ron grimaced at this. "She, er, broke up with me," he admitted. "Apparently she's still mad that I laughed when she ate that Canary Cream in Hogsmeade last month."

"She was quite embarrassed by that, Ronald," Hermione sighed.

"I know, I know," Ron sighed. "I apologized, but she wouldn't hear it. It's for the best, though...no sense of humor, that one. This way I can focus on the Quidditch final without distractions."

"That's good at least," Harry grinned. "You'll need all the practice you can get to beat us."

"Oh please, we're going to wipe the floor with Ravenclaw!" Ron fired back with a grin. "Your Chasers couldn't score a goal if the hoop was as big as the Entrance Hall!"

Harry and Ron traded playful barbs back and forth for a while, as a bemused Neville and less-than-amused Hermione watched on. Harry missed having a tight best mate like Ron in this timeline, even though it came with baggage he couldn't afford. It was nice to simply chum it up with somebody again without worrying about the future for once.

"Well, we'd best get some lunch before the Dueling Club meeting starts," Hermione eventually remarked after checking her watch. "You coming, Harry?"

"No thanks," he said. "Focusing on homework today."

"You're skipping the club again?" asked Neville, frowning. "I thought you were supposed to be running them all year!"

"I'm sure you'll be fine without me," said Harry, clapping the boy on the shoulder. "You can run things on your own, can't you?"

"I mean...I guess," Neville shrugged. "But I'm not as good at that stuff as you. Don't you want everyone to get better at protecting themselves, like with the secret club last year?"

"That was when the Ministry was suppressing us from learning," Harry shrugged. "Now there are plenty of resources for students to improve on their own. Putting me in charge was just a ploy by Dumbledore to keep me 'involved' or whatever."

"Have you and Dumbledore really been rowing?" asked Hermione worriedly. "There are rumors going around, but I didn't want to assume—"

"He's proven repeatedly that he doesn't respect me," Harry said bitterly. "I'm just giving him the same respect in return. Why should I act as his perfect role model when he refuses to teach me anything?"

"What do you mean, refuses to teach you?" Neville frowned. "Isn't he giving you private lessons as well?"

"He stopped them about a month ago," Harry muttered. "Good riddance to be honest. He wouldn't teach me any combat magic, which is the only thing I hoped to learn from him."

"So that's what you were doing with Dumbledore?" asked Ron excitedly. "Learning to fight?"

"Learning how not to fight, mostly," Harry shrugged. "Wait, so he wasn't teaching Neville how to fight?"

"No," said Neville uncomfortably. "Our lessons have been more...informative than practical."

"I see," said Harry. "And that doesn't strike you as odd? That he's teaching us different things?"

"Makes sense to me," Ron shrugged. "You're the best fighter, and Neville...well, he has another path, doesn't he?"

"You don't think it shows a lack of respect?" Harry pressed. "That he's training us separately, and giving us different information?"

"I don't think he disrespects you, Harry," Hermione said diplomatically. "He knows you like to be on the front lines and wants to help you survive."

"Or maybe it's disrespectful to Neville?" Harry suggested. "Does he not care about Neville surviving?"

"That's different," Ron defended. "He's given Neville an important job to do. He won't have to be on the front lines while he's looking for—"

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed, elbowing Ron hard in the side. Ron realized his slip-up, giving Harry a worried look before coughing and changing the subject.

Looking for what? Harry wondered. What is Dumbledore trying to find? He felt a sinking sense of dread, wondering if the man had discovered the existence of Voldemort's horcruxes. But how could that be? He hadn't been able to study the diary in this timeline, and Horace Slughorn was dead, giving Dumbledore no indication of what to look for. Still, he was an uncommonly clever wizard, and Harry wouldn't put it past him.

Should he come clean and share what he knew with Dumbledore? What if he knew about the horcruxes hidden throughout Britain, but not the one in Neville's head? Harry still had to be careful not to tip the Headmaster off about that critical fact. He felt so, so close to solving that issue on his own – Bill had written him recently, indicating that he made contact with his necromancer source to arrange a meeting. With luck, Dumbledore need never know that Neville had been tethering Voldemort to life.

"Well...we'd best get going before lunch ends," Hermione said breathlessly, checking her watch. "See you, Harry!"

"Yeah, see you," Harry said absent-mindedly, as the trio stood from the table and hastily left the library. He wasn't sure what to make of this new revelation, if it could even be considered one. All he knew was that Dumbledore had tasked Neville with finding something that would prove critical to the war effort. If they were hunting horcruxes, Harry would need to tread carefully and figure out what Dumbledore knew before sharing his own knowledge of their whereabouts.

Harry had planned to continue studying throughout the afternoon, but now he felt stir-crazy and needed to get out of the castle. So instead he summoned Dobby to bring him back to Raven House, where he collected the box of remaining Lethifold remains and stuffed it in his robes before Apparating to Knockturn Alley to conduct some business.

He decided to forego Borgin and Burke's today, wishing to lessen his reliance on the man's services after overpaying for a portkey last time. He wanted to explore more of what Knockturn had to offer, now that he was bold enough to venture farther into its depths. He'd spotted an apothecary near the Spiked Chalice during his last visit with Fleur, and had a feeling their offerings would be more expansive than its counterpart in Diagon Alley.

His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he stepped foot in the small shop. He could feel the dark energy wafting from the sealed boxes on shelves around him, and got the clear sense that one should not find themselves here unless they knew exactly what they were after. But Harry held his head high and confidently strolled up to the counter under his glamour disguise to speak with the owner.

"Afternoon," Harry grunted. "Looking to see if you have some rare ingredients in stock."

"Like what?"

"Powdered moonstone and dragon eggs."

The shop owner scowled at him. "Dragon eggs are a banned substance under Minister Potter's administration," he said.

"You strike me as the kind of person who could source them anyway," Harry remarked.

"Wouldn't be wise to go about confirmin' such rumors," the owner mumbled, still scrutinizing Harry as though deciding if he was an undercover Auror.

"And the moonstone?" Harry pressed.

"Legal, but hard to come by," the owner shrugged. "It'll cost you upwards of a hundred Galleons per gram."

"Understood," Harry nodded. "Would you be open to trading rather than selling?"

"Perhaps," said the owner. "If it's of equal or greater value."

"I think you'll agree this qualifies," said Harry, withdrawing the marble box from his robes. "You may want to apply a Bubble-Head Charm first."

He and the owner both cast the protective bubble around their faces before opening the box. The shop owner's eyes went wide when he saw what was inside.

"Impossible," he breathed. "Lethifolds haven't been seen in Europe for centuries. And this is fresh! Must've just died no more than a week ago."

"Correct," said Harry. "What's it worth to you?"

The owner carefully took the box from Harry and placed it on a scale for measurement. After waving his wand over it a couple times and muttering under his breath he said, "Seventy-five Galleons per gram. Fifteen hundred for the whole box."

"That's outrageous," Harry said at once (though he had no clue if this was true or not). "You could get many times that re-selling it on the black market, especially of this quality."

"True," the owner nodded. "But I'd go to Azkaban if I got caught smuggling it to the continent. It has to be worth the risk I'm taking."

"One-fifty per gram," Harry countered.

"Eighty."

"One-forty."

"Ninety."

"One-thirty."

"A hundred even, final offer."

Harry contemplated this. That amounted to two thousand Galleons, which would more than cover the cost of all the ingredients he needed for his various potion projects. "Tell you what," he said. "I'll do it for a hundred, if you sell me ten grams of powdered moonstone at the same price and throw in two dragon eggs for free."

The shop owner narrowed his eyes at this. "I never confirmed I had any dragon eggs," he said cagily.

"Just like I don't have any Lethifold remains," Harry smirked. "Do we have a deal or not?"

The owner considered this, eventually making up his mind with one last longing look into the marble box at the freshly-preserved remains. "Fine, deal," he said, shaking Harry's hand. Thirty minutes later, Harry departed the store a thousand Galleons richer, with two dragon eggs and fresh powdered moonstone in his pocket.

He brought them back to Raven House immediately, where he stored both ingredients in separate climate-controlled compartments. The dragon eggs would allow him to complete the Thief's Downfall recipe he'd been working his way towards, while powdered moonstone was the most crucial (and rare) ingredient in Felix Felicis. He already envisioned the look of delight on Dahlia's face when he showed her the new acquisitions the next time she visited.

By now it was starting to get late, and Harry was quite hungry, having skipped lunch already. He summoned Dobby and asked for a trip near the Entrance Hall. With luck, he could slip in and join his classmates for dinner, and no one would suspect he had been in London trafficking illegal substances just minutes before.

Dobby deposited Harry in a quiet corridor just around the corner from the Entrance Hall, near the stairwell leading to the dungeons. "Will Mister Harry Potter be needing any other assistance today?" Dobby asked.

"No, thank you, Dobby," said Harry. Then, an idea struck him. "Actually...do you know if it's possible to build a portkey to bypass the school wards?"

"It is impossible, Harry Potter," said the elf nervously. "The wards will stop any wizard from coming in or out."

"But you can take me in and out," Harry replied. "Surely the same magic that you use to bypass the wards can be imbued into a portkey, right?"

"Elf magic cannot be used by humans," said Dobby. "They are not compatible. That is why we are able to Apparate through the wards, because they do not recognize us."

"I see," Harry muttered thoughtfully. He'd hoped to find a way to travel freely from the grounds without needing a house-elf's assistance every time, but clearly he would have to put more thought into that problem. "Thanks anyway, Dobby, you've been most helpful."

Dobby bowed, before disappearing with another small pop. Harry turned to walk in the opposite direction, but an unexpected voice called out after him…

"What are you doing with my house-elf, Potter?"

Harry's blood chilled. He hadn't heard that voice practically all term – the voice he'd been seeking out for weeks now. He turned to see Draco Malfoy walking up from the dungeons towards him, eyes narrowed in confusion and suspicion.

"Don't know what you mean," Harry said innocently. "That was a school house-elf who works in the kitchens."

"Dobby raised me since I was an infant," Draco retorted. "I would recognize him anywhere. Now, why is he at Hogwarts, and what are you doing with him?"

"He's here of his own free will," said Harry coolly. "He chose to come and work for Dumbledore after your dad ordered him killed."

Draco's face registered surprise at this news, but it did not diminish the suspicion in his expression. "So you're plotting to turn him against me?" he demanded. "No offense, Potter, but that's the stupidest idea you've had yet. Dobby is like family to me, and he wouldn't betray my trust no matter how hard you tried."

"Not everything is about you, Malfoy," Harry retorted. "Somebody sounds awfully guilty, though...got some secrets you're afraid that Dobby might spill?"

"Got something to accuse me of, Potter?" said Draco.

"That depends," Harry said casually. "Want to roll up your right sleeve for everyone to see?"

Draco flinched reflexively, holding his arms close to his sides. "I don't want any trouble from you or your family, Potter," he said cautiously.

"You don't, do you?" Harry said quietly, advancing slowly towards Draco. He casually flicked his wand from his sleeve into his hand, holding it loosely at his side. "Anything you'd like to confess about the last Hogsmeade visit?"

Draco continued to backpedal until he bumped up against a wall, unable to escape. "I...I wasn't there," he stammered. "I was serving detention."

"So you know nothing about that cursed necklace, do you?" Harry said, tilting his head dangerously. "You didn't purchase it from Borgin and Burke's last summer, when you visited with your mother?"

Draco was stricken with fear. He tried to slide towards the nearest corridor, but Harry blocked his path, hovering over the boy menacingly. "P-please, Potter," Draco stammered. "You don't understand...it's not what you think it is…"

"Then enlighten me, Draco," Harry snarled. "Or I'll loosen that tongue of yours myself if I have to—"

"POTTER!"

Harry was forced to divert his attention to a Disarming Charm fired at his back; he whirled around to deflect it, and groaned at the sight of Professor Snape bearing down upon him. "Bloody hell, how are you everywhere?" he huffed.

"Five points from Ravenclaw for language, Potter," Snape snapped. "Better make it twenty for harassing another student. What is happening here?"

"Just catching up with an old friend," Harry sneered, throwing a malevolent glare back at Draco.

"Go back to your common room, Mr. Malfoy," Snape barked. Draco didn't need telling twice; he scurried off, casting one fearful look back at Harry before disappearing down the nearby stairs. You got off lucky this time, Malfoy, Harry thought as he watched the boy scramble for safety. I will find out what you're doing eventually...Snape can't protect you forever.

Snape rounded on Harry, eyes boring into his with anger. Harry glared right back, not backing down from the challenge. "Still protecting your own, are you?" he spat. "Honoring your true allegiances?"

Snape regarded him with a look of pure disdain, one that Harry hadn't seen often from the man in this timeline. It was good to know that he could still bring that side out of the man, even if their relationship wasn't as fraught as it had once been. "Come with me," Snape ordered, turning to sweep off across the Hall.

"What, gonna assign me to detention?" Harry asked as he made to follow.

"No," said Snape calmly. "We're going to let your mother sort this out."

Harry's stomach dropped. That was the last person he wanted to know about this. Snape clearly knew Harry's true weakness: he would rather face down the wrath of Albus Dumbledore himself than that of Lily Potter.

He followed Snape down into the dungeons towards Lily's office. When they entered, she was grading essays with a look of intense concentration on her face. She looked up, frowning at the sight of the two of them together.

"Severus?" she said slowly. "Harry? Is something the matter?"

"I caught your son cornering Draco Malfoy and threatening acts of violence against him," said Snape curtly.

Lily gave Harry an exasperated look. "Is that true?" she demanded.

"I wasn't actually going to hurt him," Harry grumbled. "I just wanted to scare him into giving me some answers."

"That is not the impression I got—" Snape interjected.

"Oh, quit defending him, will you?" Harry groaned. "You've been taking his side all year long, don't deny it. Even if you know he's guilty you would protect him!"

"I am a teacher of this school, and you are threatening harm against one of my students," Snape said snippily. "As usual, you fail to recognize that I am also protecting you from yourself."

"Justify it however you want," Harry laughed hollowly. "We all know the real reason: you're just being a good little Death Eater and looking out for one of your own."

Snape opened his mouth to retort, but Lily beat him to it. "That is enough!" she snapped, standing from her seat with a look of fury. "Harry James Potter, you do not disrespect one of your professors that way! And do not talk back to me – I won't hear your excuses!"

"Listen to your mother, Potter," Snape sneered. "It might do you some good in life—"

"Don't antagonize him, Severus!" Lily barked, turning her glare on a now surprised Snape. "Please leave us. Your presence here will only make things worse."

Snape gave Harry one final look of derision before sweeping from the office. Lily pointed a shaking finger at the chair opposite hers, and Harry sat, still fuming but knowing it was fruitless to argue with his mother when she was this angry. He'd only experienced the famous 'Evans temper' as his father called in on a handful of occasions, and he hated to be on the receiving end of it.

"Why do you continue to spit in my face and disobey the one thing I asked you to do?" Lily demanded. "I told you to leave Draco Malfoy alone, but you just can't help yourself, can you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Harry grumbled. "Just be a good boy and let the adults handle things. Because that worked out great when the Chamber of Secrets opened, or when my name came out of the Goblet of Fire, or when my sister was kidnapped from the bloody Great Hall of all places."

"How about when you prevented Professor Quirrell from protecting the Philosopher's Stone?" Lily retorted. "Or delivered your father's map directly to Peter Pettigrew?"

"That's...different!" Harry spluttered. "How can you possibly blame me for those things?"

"Because although you have good intentions, you also have poor impulse control!" said Lily. "How many times must you learn that your rash decisions can cause as much harm as they do good?"

"Dahlia would be dead three times over if it wasn't for my rash decisions!" Harry shouted. "Dad would be dead if I didn't make the rash decision to kill Lestrange! What if it's you next time? Should I just sit back and watch the light leave your eyes?"

"You can't treat every situation like it's life or death!" Lily huffed. "Are you going to throw that argument in my face every time you pass Draco in the hallway? Are you incapable of co-existing with him in this castle without violence?"

"As long as he gets away with attempted murder, I just might be," said Harry defiantly.

Lily gave him a look of such despair that it nearly broke his stubborn resolve. She fell back into her chair, deflated, her anger giving way to anguish.

"I feel like I've lost my son," she lamented as she rummaged through her desk for her liquor stash. "Maybe Albus was right...the Killing Curse has darkened your mind permanently."

"One use of the spell wouldn't do that," Harry scoffed. "That's typical Dumbledore talk. I could have never touched dark magic in my life and would still want Draco's head if he was responsible for Dahlia's accident."

"All the same," Lily sighed, procuring a bottle of amber liquid, "I don't recognize the little boy I raised anymore. You were so carefree and innocent as a child...now you're like a hardened soldier."

"Yeah, well, war does that to people," Harry grumbled. "Wasn't my decision really."

"You were always so easy to raise once you started school," Lily remarked as she poured herself a glass. "James and I wondered if we should be more strict with you, set more boundaries. Maybe we were wrong to give you such freedom."

"I would've rebelled," Harry said diplomatically. "I never felt like I needed guidance."

"Yes, well, therein lies the problem," Lily chuckled humorlessly as she brought the glass to her lips. "I don't know how we raised someone so distrusting of authority."

That's because you didn't, Harry thought, a pang of guilt stabbing him in the heart. I'm not the boy you raised. He's dead, replaced by an impostor who never had that kind of guidance he sorely needed growing up.

"Look," he sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I'm sorry, okay? I know I tend to act without thinking sometimes, it's just...I really think you should reconsider your stance on Malfoy. He's up to something, I'm certain of it. And the longer we let him get away with it, the more likely something else bad will happen. We're at war, even if it doesn't feel like it at the moment, and he's chosen the wrong side. We can't just overlook that, no matter his age. Right?"

Lily didn't answer right away. Harry looked up, wondering if she was considering his words. But he was surprised when he did not see her at all; the chair behind her desk sat empty.

"Mum…?" Harry said, standing tentatively. He heard an odd choking noise, and quickly rounded the desk to the other side. "Mum!"

Lily was splayed out on the ground, foaming at the mouth and convulsing violently. Her glass of liquor had spilled across the stone floor; as Harry knelt beside her, he could sense the dark magic wafting from the amber liquid.

"Mum, can you hear me?" said Harry, taking her head in his lap; she continued to froth and jerk wildly, green eyes wide with terror as her face slowly turned purple. Harry turned to the door, which remained ajar: "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"

He heard rapid footsteps coming, and the door burst open to reveal Snape, who clearly hadn't gone far since leaving. Harry wondered if he'd been eavesdropping – not that it mattered now. "What has happened?" asked a horrified Snape when he saw Lily on the ground.

"She's been poisoned!" Harry yelled. "What do we do?"

Snape remained rooted to the spot, black eyes fixed on Lily, wide with fear. Are you just going to stand there? Harry thought, incredulous. Are you the potion master here or not?!

Harry drew his wand and aimed it at the storage closet. "Accio bezoar!" he shouted. But nothing happened. "Accio poison antidote!" How was it possible that there were no poison neutralizers present? Was this a targeted attack?

"Professor, do something!" Harry screamed as Lily's eyes rolled back into her skull, her face now a horrible shade of blueberry.

"I...she…" Snape stammered, still standing still but now trembling fiercely. Harry had never seen the normally stoic man so unsure, so helpless.

Think, Harry told himself. The Hospital Wing was too far to get Lily there in time...a house-elf could transport her to St. Mungo's, but there wouldn't be much time to explain before she succumbed to the poison...there apparently wasn't anything here in the office that could revive her...except—

Harry's wand whipped around to aim at his bag, slung over the back of his chair. "Accio toolkit!" he shouted. His bag flew open, and the multi-compartment potion toolkit he'd created flew into his hand.

With trembling fingers he located the compartment containing the generalized antidote he'd brewed and forced it to his mother's mouth. He didn't know if he'd brewed it correctly, or if it would be strong enough to save her. But it was their only chance.

Harry tipped the contents into Lily's mouth and forced her chin up so it went down her throat. She continued to spasm and make horrible choking noises as Harry tried to steady her. Please work, he prayed. Please be okay…

Lily suddenly gave a great shudder and went completely still. What followed was the longest silence of Harry's life. He had no idea if it lasted five seconds, or thirty, or a hundred. All he could do was stare in blank shock at his mother's contorted face, wondering if that was it, if he had just lost her forever…

Then Lily's green eyes flew open as she took in a rasping breath, and both Harry and Snape exhaled in simultaneous relief.