Year 7-06: The New Normal

Harry dreamed that he was flying. Wind rushing through his air, crowds cheering his name. Teammates blurred past his vision: Cho Chang, Katie Bell, Terry Boot, the Weasley twins, all smiling and encouraging him onward. There were his parents in the crowd, and Dahlia, and Sirius and Remus, and Neville and Ron and Hermione, and Fleur, all beaming proudly at him. He was admired. He was loved. He was free.

Then, he was falling. Tumbling end over end, no wand, no broomstick to halt his momentum. Screams rent the air. And someone was laughing. Harry found himself falling towards a pair of giant red eyes, glinting malevolently at him, before a massive serpent lunged forth and swallowed him whole—

"Harry!"

He came to, gasping for air, writhing in the sheets, those red eyes still burned into his memory. He could not see, could not make sense of where he was, when he was, who he was—

"Calm down. Here, put these on."

Someone handed him his glasses. Harry jammed them onto his face and looked around; he was back in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. Dahlia was seated by his bedside, watching him worriedly. For a moment Harry thought it had all been a terrible dream, that the battle at the Ministry had never happened. But when he looked down, he saw the Dark Mark, still burning black against his forearm, and dread settled into his stomach once more.

"What's happening?" Harry asked. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yes," said Dahlia. "Everyone in our family is fine."

Harry felt a surge of relief at this news. "How long have I been out?" he asked.

"About three days. It's late – you should try and get some more rest."

"No, I have to know what's going on," Harry muttered, attempting to get up out of bed; however, he felt like he'd been hit by a train, promptly slumping back into the pillow in exhaustion.

"You're going to stay right there," Dahlia admonished him. "I'll go tell the others you're awake. In the meantime, read this."

Dahlia reached for the bedside table, procuring a days-old copy of The Daily Prophet. She handed it to Harry before scurrying from the room and closing the door. Harry read the headline three times, blinking in confusion. At first he thought it was some kind of prank. It took him several more re-reads to comprehend what the words were telling him:

DARK LORD DEFEATED IN TRIUMPHANT VICTORY!

By Regina Hornsby, The Daily Prophet

"The Ministry of Magic was assaulted yesterday afternoon by the Dark Lord He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Over a thousand enemy forces, plus a handful of giants, descended upon downtown London in an attempt to overthrow the magical government. However, with the help of the brave ICW soldiers, and the savvy leadership of Minister James Potter, the Dark Lord suffered a resounding defeat.

'I am proud to announce that we have successfully repelled Lord [REDACTED]'s attack,' said Minister Potter in a press conference late last night. 'Although we sustained heavy losses, we managed to overwhelm [REDACTED]'s army and secure an unconditional surrender. The Dark Lord himself has fled Britain in shame, and we do not anticipate him returning any time soon.'

Potter went on to declare an end to the state of emergency that Britain has been under for the duration of his administration. He also announced the dismissal of the ICW forces sent from abroad, stating that they were no longer needed to defend the nation.

'We now enter a period of mourning and rebuilding,' said Minister Potter. 'The people we lost can never be replaced, but we must do our best to carry on without them. I will also be working closely with the Wizengamot to update our laws so that nothing like this can ever happen again.'

Obliviators are working around the clock to deal with the Muggles that witnessed the battle in progress. The Muggle Prime Minister announced the incident as a major earthquake to explain the massive damage sustained to the downtown London area. It is believed that the Statute of Secrecy will remain intact once the first-hand witnesses have been accounted for, and Minister Potter reassured reporters that Britain will soon return to normal.

Potter declined to provide specifics about the laws he intends to update. For more on the aftermath of the battle, see pg. 2."

Harry examined the photo that accompanied the article. It depicted James, Amelia and Dale Greengrass standing before reporters in the ruined Atrium, all looking somber. It certainly was not the look of those who had just experienced a great triumph. And knowing the reality of the situation, he could not blame them for failing to put on a convincing show of jubilation.

It was a master stroke by Voldemort, he had to admit. There weren't many witnesses left standing in the Ministry at the end of the conflict, besides Voldemort's supporters and the ICW forces, who didn't want to be in Britain to begin with. And after such a devastating battle, the public would more readily accept the fabricated story and resume the status quo. It was easier to pretend the war was over and act accordingly, than to question the story publicly and risk being targeted for it. He wondered if anyone even believed the story, or if they all just quietly accepted it as the new normal.

The bedroom door opened again, and Harry looked up to see Sirius and Remus rush into the room. "Thank Merlin you're alright," Sirius sighed, rushing to the bed to give his godson a hug. "How are you feeling?"

Harry saw Sirius' gaze flick towards the Dark Mark on his left forearm, and knew that was what he really wanted to know about.

"Okay, I guess," Harry shrugged. The Mark was mostly dormant now, though it occasionally prickled ominously. He could remember flashes of emotion associated with pain in his arm during his rest, and knew they had to be connected to Voldemort somehow. He couldn't say it aloud, but it reminded him eerily of the lightning-bolt scar he'd left behind in his previous timeline.

Remus hovered awkwardly nearby; he'd never been the most physically affectionate type. But Harry beckoned for him, and his former professor stooped low to give Harry a hug.

"Remus," said Harry, his voice hitching in his throat as he held his second uncle tight. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too, Harry," said Remus as he pulled away. "It didn't turn out how any of us had hoped."

"There wasn't anything I could do for her," Harry choked, remembering the ghostly expression on Alessia's face. "You know I would have saved her if I could."

Remus pulled away from Harry, frowning. "What do you mean, Harry?" he asked.

"Alessia," Harry said. "I found her body in the Atrium."

"Did you, now?" came an unexpected voice from the hall. Harry turned, heart skipping a beat when Alessia herself walked into the room, looking pale but alive and well, eyebrow quirked in amusement.

"Alessia!" said Harry, eyes bulging out of his head in confusion. "But...I don't understand—"

"Your sister is a brilliant witch, Harry," said Remus, giving Dahlia a fond smile. "She saved a lot of lives in that Atrium during the battle."

"But how?" Harry said weakly. "I saw you...your face...it was like you were dead…"

"Stasis Charm," Dahlia explained with a sheepish grin. "I got the idea from the Triwizard Tournament. Once I stabilized the worst injuries, I put them under stasis to preserve them until the Healers could get them to St. Mungo's."

Harry realized now why the look on Alessia's face had stood out so starkly in his memory. It was the same one the hostages at the bottom of the lake had while awaiting rescue by their respective Champions during the Second Task. Perhaps Alessia's deathly appearance had saved her from further harm, as passing Death Eaters would have assumed she was already dead as well.

"Eet was quite ze shock to wake up in ze morgue in the middle of the night," Alessia grinned. "A dozen of us woke up from the charm around ze same time...I thought Tonks was going to rip someone's 'ead off in her surprise."

"Tonks is alive, too?" Harry gasped, nearly falling over from shock. Suddenly hope coursed through him, realizing that more of the fallen might in fact be alive. "What about Moody? And Dawlish? And Ted Tonks?"

Remus' expression darkened at their mention. "Unfortunately, they couldn't be saved," he sighed. "You-Know-Who took care of them personally. Poor Andromeda was beside herself, thinking she lost both her husband and daughter – imagine her relief when she found out Nymphadora had survived."

"She wishes to thank you personally," Alessia informed Dahlia. "You 'ave brought her daughter back to life."

"I was just doing my job," Dahlia shrugged. But she smiled softly at the praise, as all the adults looked to her with admiration and pride.

"Where's Mum and Dad?" asked Harry, looking around. "And Damian, and Aunt Petunia?"

The adults went silent at this question, looking to one another awkwardly. "Damian and Aunt Petunia are still at the Godric's Hollow house, laying low," said Dahlia. "And Dad's been at the Ministry for a few days. We don't see him that often."

That sounded awfully foreboding. Harry wondered if James was being kept under an Imperius Curse, or simply being monitored closely by Death Eaters as Voldemort's people slowly infiltrated the Ministry. "And Mum?" he asked.

Sirius abruptly departed the room in a huff. Remus grimaced and hurried after him, Alessia close behind. Harry watched them go, turning to Dahlia in confusion.

"Mum's with Professor Snape," Dahlia sighed.

"She is?" asked Harry, frowning. "Is he hiding her?"

"Not exactly," said Dahlia, fidgeting nervously with a button on her shirt.

"Dahlia, what's going on?" Harry demanded, suspecting that he would not like the answer.

Dahlia stood and retrieved another copy of The Daily Prophet from the corner of the room. "This was published this morning," she said softly. "Don't get angry."

Harry took the paper from her, confused, and unfolded it to read the headline. Despite her warning, he felt his blood instantly boiling as soon as he began to read:

MINISTER'S WIFE RUNS OFF WITH COLLEAGUE IN SCANDALOUS AFFAIR!

By Sabrina Vane, The Daily Prophet

"In a shocking turn of events, the Prophet has learned that the wife of Minister James Potter, Lily Evans, has terminated her eighteen-year marriage with the decorated war hero. Britain's newest Potion Master and popular professor at Hogwarts School has abruptly abandoned her family, filing for divorce and moving out just days after her (now ex) husband's victory at the Ministry.

Even more shocking is the reason for the split, as sources have told the Prophet that Miss Evans has absconded with none other than Severus Snape, fellow Hogwarts professor and longtime friend. The true nature of Ms. Evans' relationship with Mr. Snape has been speculated upon for some time, as well as her ongoing struggles with alcoholism, no doubt brought on by domestic trouble at home. Now the rumors seem to be confirmed, and the marriage of Britain's 'golden couple' turns out to not have been quite so idyllic as the Potters led us to believe.

'Those of us who know [the Potters] know that this is no surprise whatsoever,' said Lord Quincy Nott when asked by reporters ahead of yesterday's Wizengamot meeting. 'Their relationship was volatile and barely hanging on by a thread even before James took office. They tried to hold it together to present the image of a perfect family to the public, but clearly their problems ran too deep.'

It seems that even those unfamiliar with the Potters were not surprised by the news either. 'It just goes to show that marriages between those of different upbringings never work,' wrote in Muriel Prewett. 'When James Potter ran off with that tramp from Cokeworth all those years ago, we all knew it would end in disaster. He should have married someone closer to his family's station, or at least a proper— well, I won't say it, but we're all thinking it.'

'It's despicable is what it is,' said Kensington resident Doris Crockford. 'That wretched woman, abandoning her husband after all he's done for this nation? I don't care if he was slapping her around at home, you simply don't do such a thing in polite society! I can only imagine what her poor children think of her now...she ought to be ashamed of herself.'

Minister Potter and Ms. Evans could not be reached for comment. For more on what may have caused the high-profile split, see pg. 6."

Harry felt his anger rising more and more with every word he reached. By the end of the article, he tossed the paper across the room, too upset to read any further.

"What the hell are they thinking at the Prophet?" Harry demanded. "They're just begging to be hit with a libel lawsuit!"

"It's not libel," Dahlia sighed. "It's the truth."

"Mum would never abandon Dad like that!" Harry shouted. "It's a blatant lie!"

"Of course she wouldn't," Dahlia agreed. "But she and Dad agreed to go along with the story for her protection. This is the only way to keep her safe from Voldemort...as long as he believes that she and Snape are together, she won't be harmed."

Harry could not believe what he was hearing. He was right about Snape all along...he wasn't helping the Potters out of selflessness, he was only doing it to get to Lily. And it seemed that he had finally gotten exactly what he wanted.

"I told you all along," Harry growled angrily. "That bastard only cared about stealing Mum away. That's all he's ever cared about. I bet the only thing he regrets is that Dad is still alive."

"Who's to say Snape isn't doing this just to protect her?" Dahlia shrugged. "It's not like they're romantically involved in reality – he would never try to impose on Mum that way."

"Not yet, maybe," Harry grumbled. "But I bet he thinks if enough time passes, she'll forget about us and fall for her new 'lover'. How the hell can you still give him the benefit of the doubt?"

"Because he saved your life, if you've forgotten," Dahlia pointed out. "And he's the only reason Mum is still alive. Even if he has ulterior motives, that counts for something."

"Unbelievable," Harry laughed hollowly. Judging by how quickly Sirius and Remus had left the room, they seemed to be just as aggrieved by this stunt of Snape's. "I know you try to see the best in people, Dahlia, but it's clear as day that Snape only wants one thing, and now he's got it."

"I think your judgment is still clouded by the other Snape you knew," said Dahlia, referencing the memories she'd seen in the Pensieve. "Look, I get it: you don't have to be a Seer to know that he fancies Mum. But he's also the closest ally we have, and a powerful one. He took a giant risk to keep all of us alive, and I won't demonize him for it."

Harry was amazed by the amount of grace his sister was willing to grant towards his former professor. But it did force him to analyze the situation objectively, setting his emotions aside for the moment. Lily was safe, which was not a given considering the amount of discriminatory legislation sure to come from Voldemort's regime. Snape may be a right bastard for pulling this stunt, but at least he would ensure that no harm would come to their mother. It was one less thing to worry about, one less life Harry had to look out for besides his own.

But it did not quell his anger at the situation entirely. He can have his little victory in the short term, Harry thought murderously. He won't get away with this forever. If Dad doesn't get to him for this, I'll gladly do it myself. He wondered if the Elder Wand was manifesting such thoughts from the bedside table nearby, or if they had come to him unbidden. It was getting harder to distinguish between the two as of late.

"I've rested long enough," Harry muttered, brushing Dahlia's arm aside and forcing himself to his feet. "I want to know what's going on. Have there been any Order of the Stag meetings? What are our next plans for the war?"

Dahlia cast a furtive glance at the doorway, looking nervous. She drew her wand and cast a Muffling Charm on the door before turning back to Harry.

"There is no more Order," she said in an undertone. "And there are no plans. Got it?"

Harry blinked in confusion. "But...of course there must be," he said. "We're not just giving up. We have to fight! We have to—"

"We have to keep our voices down," Dahlia hissed. "If Voldemort learns that any of us are still working against him, he'll kill us all."

"Great, then I won't tell him," Harry deadpanned. "But we can still meet in secret, and figure out a way to—"

"No, we can't," said Dahlia. "Listen, Harry...Lockhart has been going through everyone's minds while you were asleep. He's looking for evidence that we're working against Voldemort. He got to dad, Remus, Sirius, Amelia, Alessia, Dale, Andromeda, and everyone else who was involved with us."

Harry's heart sank. "He's viewed everyone's memories?" he asked weakly. "Even yours?" He remembered the night he told Dahlia the truth about his past, and panic began to settle in, realizing that Lockhart might have seen it in Dahlia's mind.

"Only briefly," said Dahlia, grimacing at the thought. "And he only looked for specific things related to Dad and the Order. He probably figured that nobody told me anything worth knowing since I'm underage."

Harry sighed with relief. The thought of Lockhart learned his true secret and relaying it to Voldemort was a nightmarish prospect. "Is he going to keep looking at people's memories?" he asked.

"Probably," said Dahlia. "We don't know for sure. But the point is, it's too risky to discuss anything related to the war around the adults. Otherwise, Lockhart might find out, and everyone's lives would be in jeopardy."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Harry asked weakly. "Give up?"

"I don't know," Dahlia muttered. "Dad said the best thing that you and I can do to help is keep our heads down and don't cause any problems. We should let the adults handle it for now."

Harry wished he could be so optimistic. By the sounds of it, the adults were just as constrained in their ability to fight back, if not moreso. It only doubled the burden he felt to complete his mission, knowing now that he could not ask his mentors for help.

"Don't worry," he said, pulling in Dahlia for a hug. "We'll figure this out. It's going to be okay."

Dahlia nodded forlornly at this sentiment. Clearly neither of them actually believed it.

Harry spent the following days recovering at Grimmauld Place, under strict orders from Dahlia not to exert himself or perform any magic. He read the Prophet cover to cover every day, despite knowing that it was a complete waste of time. It was basically a propaganda outlet now, espousing the newfound 'peace' Britain was experiencing and speculating endlessly about James and Lily's divorce.

Still, he could occasionally catch glimpses of actual news by reading between the lines. One article caught his eye, discussing a new wave of recruitment for the Auror Department. Much of the force had been wiped out by the battle, while many of those remaining had quit, including Cedric and Tonks (confirming their survival). Judging by the vitriol with which the article referenced these defectors, they likely remained loyal to the side of the Light and refused to follow the new orders they had been given. Harry wondered whether they were safe and what they had planned next – would they fade quietly into greater society, or try to continue the fight?

The only real insight Harry had into the outside world was during dinners, when his family members would gather to decompress after their own stressful days. Attendance was irregular as different people were forced to attend to their duties late into the evening, and the conversation was often stilted and cryptic. Fear of Lockhart listening in on conversations in the future kept them from sharing any intimate details, merely giving vague descriptions of their day-to-day activities, but Harry was still able to pick up a few details here and there.

James and Amelia were at the Ministry most days, trying to keep things together as Voldemort's people slowly infiltrated the government. Sirius was still working closely with the goblins at Gringotts, but by the sound of it, he was now being forced to direct Black family funds towards the other side of the war, under threat of retribution by Voldemort. Remus and Alessia were still attending to the potions business, with vague references to 'restructuring' that had Harry wondering if they were even still producing the miracle potion at all. Even Dahlia was kept busy, volunteering almost daily at St. Mungo's, tending to the scores of wounded from the battle.

Harry was left feeling listless and frustrated after hearing their daily accounts. He badly wanted to get back out into the world, to contact Fleur and resume the horcrux hunt. But he had no idea how safe it was...was Fleur being watched as closely as him? Would the Dark Mark be able to sense his wrongdoing? It was too dangerous to jump straight back into the war efforts without learning just how far Voldemort's reach extended, or whom he could trust. He felt like a prisoner, stuck in limbo, with nowhere to go and nothing to work towards.

Harry thought back to Luna's dire forecast the previous school year: that he would find himself in a prison of his own making. That prediction could not be more accurate, as while he may be physically free, he had virtually no freedom. His soul was now tied to the darkest wizard of all time, and his family's lives hung in the balance, forcing him to comply. One false step could mean total ruin for him and everyone he loved. All he could do was drift from one day to the next, waiting for something to change, unable to act himself.

That change came sooner than expected, but it was not the change he had hoped for.

Late one night, Harry woke abruptly in a cold sweat, hissing in pain. Normally it would be his head hurting from the nightmares, but this time his arm felt like it was on fire, the Dark Mark wriggling and scalding him. He leapt from his bed and threw on a cloak before heading down the hall to find Dahlia.

But his feet took him in the opposite direction, away from her bedroom and toward the stairs. It felt like the Mark was pulling him, guiding him to a specific destination. Harry could not resist it; every step away from where it wanted him to go caused him eye-watering pain. He found himself in the entryway, past the Apparation point. He did not know where he was supposed to go, but the Mark seemed to, so he turned on the spot and Apparated away, letting the Dark Mark guide him.

Harry emerged on a familiar street, in front of a familiar house: that of Severus Snape, on Spinner's End. He felt a sense of foreboding as he strode forward, the Mark burning ever deeper into his very soul, and he knocked on the door, already dreading what he would find inside.

The door swung open, revealing a grim-looking Snape. He wordlessly beckoned inside, and Harry strode into the living room, shivering at the sight. There were three people present besides Snape: his mother Lily, who sat nervously on a settee watching him; Gilderoy Lockhart, leaning casually against the far wall; and Voldemort himself, standing calmly in the center of the room, red eyes leering at Harry.

"Good evening, Harry," Voldemort greeted him with a sickening smile. "It seems you have already figured out how your Mark works." He snapped his fingers, and the pain in Harry's arm subsided; Harry exhaled in spite of himself at the relief.

"Good evening," Harry mumbled awkwardly.

"Now now, where are your manners, Harry?" said Voldemort, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "It's, good evening, my Lord."

Harry fought back the urge to vomit at this request. "Good evening, my Lord," he said through gritted teeth. Voldemort beckoned for Harry to sit in an armchair facing him, and he reluctantly did so, wondering what this summoning was about.

"I believe congratulations are in order," said Voldemort, beckoning to a clock on the wall. "Many happy returns."

Harry blinked; the clock read just after midnight. It then dawned on him what that meant: it was July 31st, and he was now officially an adult. Of course, mentally he had been seventeen for quite some time, but now it was official in the new timeline.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," said Lily in a quivering voice. She looked terrified, but maintained her position in the corner, making herself look as meek and small as possible.

"I trust that you have sufficiently recovered from your branding?" asked Voldemort, glancing at the Dark Mark on Harry's arm. "My followers tell me it can be quite a traumatic event, having their soul bonded to another."

"I'm fine," Harry muttered, absent-mindedly itching the skin above the Mark. He supposed he was more used to it than most, given the unique bond he'd shared with Voldemort's soul in his previous timeline.

"Good, good," Voldemort muttered. He glanced at Lockhart, beckoning him to come closer. "In that case, we can proceed."

Harry's heart dropped as Lockhart drew near. He was going to invade Harry's mind, to sift through Harry's memories and search for evidence. But he would find far more than he bargained for if Harry let him: the truth about the horcruxes and his past. And that would spell the end of Harry, his loved ones, and the magical world as a whole.

"I cannot risk having followers who are not completely loyal to my cause," said Voldemort. "Reaver, see what you can find."

"This will hurt a little," Lockhart said, with a cruel smile that told Harry that he did not care one bit. He grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair, pressed his wand to his temple and snarled, "Legilimens."

Harry immediately felt Lockhart boring into his mind and assaulting his memories. It was a brutal invasion, but fortunately not quite as overwhelming as Voldemort himself. Harry kept his calm and allowed Lockhart to sift through his surface memories: waking up, checking on his loved ones, spending his days pacing around Grimmauld Place. Lockhart briefly viewed his memories of the past few family dinners, before determining that there was nothing useful to be gleaned and moving on.

Lockhart began dredging up Harry's memories of past Order of the Stag meetings. He seemed uninterested by much of it, discarding most of the memories without a second glance. It occurred to Harry that he had already viewed these memories from the perspective of others present. Harry focused on keeping Lockhart away from the most precious memories, those surrounding the horcruxes and his past, but Lockhart ignored them all. He seemed to be looking for something, or someone, in particular.

Harry eventually realized what Lockhart was looking for: Neville. He brought their confrontation at Hogwarts to the forefront – the insults they traded, the fierce duel, the mockery Harry barraged him with. He fought hard to conceal the part where he picked up Neville's wand, but Lockhart didn't seem concerned with that – he was looking deeper, for more recent memories of Neville, but there were none. He scanned for Ron and Hermione as well, but there was none to be found. Thank Merlin, Harry thought.

But Lockhart was not done. He seemed to hone in on the Weasleys in particular, and Harry could not figure out why. He viewed the ambush in the park, with Harry just managing to conceal Fleur's presence. Lockhart once again overlooked it, spending a curious amount of time focusing on Molly Weasley. He viewed Harry's memories of the woman – their brief interactions at Order meetings, the disagreements they'd had over the years.

Harry realized with a jolt what Lockhart was looking for at the last moment: Prewett. His false name conjured for the ICW training with Moody. He was looking for any trace of someone with that last name in Harry's memory. He even dredged up the conversation with Moody in his fourth year about Fabian and Gideon Prewett – "To Godric the glory, to Helga the spoils" – but failed to find anything else.

"Enough," Harry heard a distant voice say, and Lockhart pulled out of Harry's mind abruptly, leaving Harry gasping and clutching his pounding head. He blinked and felt sticky wetness on his lashes and cheeks, which he did not think came from tears.

"Nothing useful," Lockhart muttered bitterly. "I'm sorry, my Lord."

"Thank you, Reaver, that will be all," said Voldemort dismissively.

"I could feel the boy resisting me," Lockhart growled. "Give me more time, and I can find what you are looking for, I am sure of it—"

"It is obvious the boy knows nothing," Voldemort snapped. "And your crude methods of extraction have done enough damage already." Harry heart Voldemort's wand swish through the air, and he felt his eyes and cheeks dry instantly, the blood seeping from his eyes mercifully vanished.

"Yes, my Lord," Lockhart bowed, and he swept from the room, disappearing into the night through the front door.

Harry heard a slight whimper in the corner of the room. Lily was watching Harry with wide eyes, trembling, clearly wanting to get up and engulf her son in a hug but not allowed to. Voldemort, too, noticed the distraction, looking back towards Lily with a malicious grin.

"Ah, it seems the Mudblood still has feelings for her kin," he said mockingly. "But she cannot feel what I feel. Yes, Harry, I can sense your resentment towards your mother. How could you not, given how she tore your family apart? You must think her such a lowly whore, abandoning her failure of a husband for greener pastures."

Harry indeed felt resentment coursing through his veins like a wildfire, making him nearly red with rage. But Voldemort could not understand that it was not directed at his mother – rather, it was at Snape, and at Voldemort, for creating such a horrific scenario in the first place. And how could Voldemort have known otherwise? He resented his own mother and was all too willing to believe Harry would turn on Lily just as easily.

Voldemort turned his attention back to Harry. "You'll be pleased to know that my progress in taking over Britain is going quite smoothly," he said. "But Lord Voldemort does not like loose ends. There are two individuals on the loose that I consider threats to my regime, and I wish to know where they are. I do not doubt your ignorance on this matter, Harry, but just to be certain…"

Harry hissed again, the Dark Mark on his arm wriggling painfully once more. It felt like the inked serpent was coiled around his heart, or more appropriately, his soul, as Voldemort glared menacingly at him.

"Do you have any knowledge of Neville Longbottom and his friends' whereabouts?" asked Voldemort directly.

"No," said Harry at once. The Dark Mark squeezed tighter, making it feel difficult to breathe, but Voldemort could detect no lie, so he moved on.

"Do you have any knowledge of a man named Lieutenant Prewett?" asked Voldemort.

"No," said Harry quickly. But the Mark on his arm writhed in displeasure, the obvious lie failing to escape the Dark Lord's notice.

"Do not lie!" Voldemort hissed angrily. "What do you know of this man Prewett?"

Harry hesitated, knowing he had to be very careful. His Veritaserum training from five years prior came unbidden to his mind: Selective truths.

"I recognize the name," Harry said slowly. "My father fought with Fabian and Gideon Prewett in the last war. But I am unaware of any other living wizards of that name."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, taking in this answer. Clearly it must have passed muster, because his Dark Mark did not react angrily, nor did Voldemort. The Dark Lord began to pace in front of Harry, deep in thought.

"This man Prewett nearly bested me in the battle," he said bitterly. "I did not believe any could stand against me after Dumbledore's passing. But I can find no information about this man or where he came from. He must be British, but his true identity eludes me."

Harry said nothing. It made him uncomfortable, knowing that he was in fact the man that Voldemort was hunting. He hoped that Voldemort would move on, would lose Harry's scent...if he realized that Harry was indeed powerful enough to stand up to him, he might not allow him to live after all. If it came to blows, Harry had no hope of besting him again, not with the Dark Mark acting as a shackle upon his magic.

Luckily, Voldemort seemed to accept Harry's ignorance on the matter, turning back to him with a more neutral expression. "There is another reason I have summoned you here today, Harry," he said. "I have a birthday gift for you."

Harry frowned...somehow he doubted that he would enjoy this 'gift' very much. "What is it?" he asked.

"It has not escaped my notice that your name has been sullied in the public consciousness as of late," Voldemort chuckled. "It must be painful, seeing your former allies and classmates protesting against you and calling for your arrest."

"Er...yes," said Harry awkwardly, wondering where he was going with this.

"I do believe it is time to rectify that," said Voldemort. "And to restore your reputation to the status it deserves."

Voldemort flicked his wand, and a bundle of paper zoomed into his hand. He plopped it onto Harry's lap, and Harry flattened it out, realizing that it was a copy of The Daily Prophet. Based on the date in the upper right-hand corner, it was an advance copy of today's edition, to be printed later that morning. Harry was stunned when he saw a photo of himself on the cover, accompanied by a headline:

POTTER HEIR TO BE AWARDED ORDER OF MERLIN FOR UNCOVERING TERRORIST PLOT

By Regina Hornsby, The Daily Prophet

"For the past month, the wizarding world has demanded answers about the shocking death of Albus Dumbledore. This morning, it appears that the mystery has finally been solved. Madam Amelia Bones of the DMLE gave a press conference updating the public on the investigation, which included a startling revelation that has flipped the entire saga on its head.

'The Auror Department has been conducting an investigation into Albus Dumbledore's death for weeks,' said Madam Bones in a statement to the Prophet. 'And we have learned that prior to his death, Mr. Dumbledore was in fact involved in a plot to overthrow the Ministry of Magic, seeking to seize power from Minister James Potter.'

Dumbledore has long been suspected of coveting the Minister position, and his feud with Minister Potter was an open secret among those who knew them personally. Questions had been swirling about his competency as Headmaster given his advanced age, especially after the significant injury he sustained last summer, losing his arm to a dark curse. The rumors of his growing senility in his advanced age seem to have been confirmed by the shocking news.

According to Madam Bones, the terrorist plot was first discovered by the son of the Minister, 16 year old Harry James Potter, who made headlines last year for his heroic efforts in rescuing Hogwarts students from a werewolf attack. Young Mr. Potter learned of Dumbledore's treacherous plans and confronted him at Hogwarts late last month, with the assistance of Professor Severus Snape, resulting in a duel that ended with Dumbledore's death.

'Our investigation confidently concludes that Mr. Potter acted in self-defense against Albus Dumbledore, and his lethal actions were therefore justified,' Madam Bones continued. 'His actions likely saved the country, allowing Minister Potter to continue in his efforts to repel the threat of You-Know-Who, successfully driving him off in the Battle of London last week.'

Bones went on to name three co-conspirators of Dumbledore's plot who remain at large: Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. All three are considered dangerous and a continued threat to our democracy, and citizens are encouraged to report any sightings of the individuals to authorities at once."

Underneath the article were three large head shots of Neville, Ron and Hermione, accompanied by a caption: 'Undesirables 1, 2 and 3'. Harry set down the paper, seeing Voldemort's red eyes watching him for a reaction, undisguised glee in his expression.

"So I'm being rewarded for killing Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

"Britain needs somebody to look up to, Harry," said Voldemort. "And who better than yourself? You are the shining example of what our youth should strive towards: stamping out the opposition and silencing all who stand against your father's regime."

Harry felt sickened by the turn of events. On the one hand, he was no longer at risk of facing Azkaban; on the other, everyone in Britain would realize the story was a farce and resent Harry even more for his actions. He could only imagine the reaction of the Weasley family when they read the paper that morning, seeing their son painted as a villain and their hero's killer celebrated for his treachery.

"I suppose you'll want me to give some kind of speech at the ceremony, then?" Harry sighed. "Saying 'glory to the Dark Lord' or some such?"

"Nothing quite so overt, Harry," Voldemort chuckled. "But I do have an assignment for you. Severus, the letter, please."

Snape glided forward from the corner and handed Harry a folded piece of parchment. It was stamped with the official seal of Hogwarts, causing Harry to frown in confusion. And that confusion only deepened as he unfolded and read the letter:

Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

Congratulations, you have been selected as Head Boy for your upcoming seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is a tremendous honor and responsibility that only one male and female student per year are granted. You will be responsible for guiding the school prefects and setting a positive example for the student body. The staff trusts that you will represent your year and your school with distinction.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Harry started blankly at the short missive, as well as the Head Boy badge enclosed within it. It was difficult to make sense of it...especially the 'Headmaster Snape' part.

"I don't understand," he muttered.

"And why not?" Voldemort smirked. "Do you not believe yourself worthy?"

"I was not expecting to go back to Hogwarts," Harry said honestly. He hadn't been planning to return to school even before the Dumbledore incident, and he'd assumed that Voldemort would have him out performing Death Eater duties in the coming months.

"Severus has kept me informed of goings-on at Hogwarts in recent years," said Voldemort. "Under Dumbledore's guidance, the school seems to have developed a rather...shall we say...rebellious attitude towards authority. And we cannot have that."

"What does this have to do with me?" asked Harry.

"You will set your fellow students straight," said Voldemort simply. "You have been rewarded for exposing and eliminating threats to the status quo. That is a message your peers must learn as well. Future generations will learn to fall in line, and that any deviation from the norm will be punished."

Harry's stomach sank. He had already seen a glimpse of what his fellow students thought of him, protesting against him at the Ministry. Now he would be forced to interact with them again, and worse, exert authority over them. If they didn't resent him before, they certainly would now.

"I expect you to put a stop to any form of rebellion or protest you see amongst your peers," Voldemort went on. "If you fail to do so, you will be punished. I have granted your family their lives for the time being, but if I detect even a whiff of insubordination from a Potter, or anyone else at Hogwarts, your lives will be forfeit...beginning with that darling sister of yours."

Harry stiffened, and Lily gave a tiny whimper from the corner. Voldemort's smile widened...he had clearly identified Dahlia as the weak link of all the Potters, and was all too willing to hold her over their heads.

"I warned you long ago, Harry," said Voldemort. "Your love for your family is a weakness. None of this would be necessary if you had not discarded such frivolous sentimental attachments and done what was best for yourself. You are mine now, and if you attempt to subvert me, I will force you to watch as I slaughter everyone you love."

Harry glared back, refusing to look away from Voldemort's sneering face. "Understood," he said through gritted teeth.

"Understood, my Lord," Voldemort corrected with a devious smirk.

It took every bit of willpower in Harry's body not to retort, to tell Voldemort off. But the Dark Lord was right: he had Harry under his complete control, and there was nothing to be done for it now.

"Understood, my Lord."

"You are dismissed," said Voldemort, turning away from Harry at last. "If you feel my summons again, I expect you to arrive more promptly. And if you feel it while at Hogwarts, you are to report to your Headmaster for further instructions."

Voldemort swept from the room, followed swiftly by Snape. Harry met his mother's eye one last time, giving her a reassuring nod, before exiting the home and Apparating away.

Harry could not sleep after returning to Grimmauld Place. He paced listlessly around the house, mulling over the implications of this new development. He had planned to spend the coming year hunting for the remaining horcruxes with Fleur, but now he would once again be stuck at the castle. Furthermore, if he was discovered sneaking around or displaying signs of rebellion himself, it could be the end of everything. He could see no easy path forward for himself.

How much control did Voldemort truly have over him with the Dark Mark? It was like a vice grip during the interrogation, ensuring total submission. But when he was not under Voldemort's direct scrutiny, it did not seem to affect him or his magic. He worried that it would somehow be able to detect treachery and prevent him from doing anything that caused harm to his master. But that hadn't stopped Snape from serving Dumbledore in the past, had it? He would have to talk to his new Headmaster in private to determine just how much leeway the Mark gave him.

After a few hours, Harry heard shuffling upstairs, indicating that he was not the only person awake. James came stumbling downstairs, looking ragged and exhausted. "What are you doing up?" he asked when he saw his son.

"I was summoned," Harry sighed, showing his darkened Mark to his horrified father. He gave a brief summary of what had happened, including Lockhart's memory invasion, the impending article about Harry, and Voldemort's threats of violence. James' face twitched at the mention of Lily, clearly still irked about the forceful separation from his wife.

"How is your mother?" he asked. "Did she look well?"

"Physically, yes," Harry nodded. "I don't think Voldemort will harm her as long as she's with Snape."

James nodded glumly at this. Harry could tell his father wanted to know more, wanted to discuss things, but they couldn't, for fear of Lockhart listening in on their conversation at a later date.

"It's your birthday," James said, glancing at the clock. "I'm sorry, I haven't had the time to get you anything."

"You don't have to," said Harry quickly. "I'm just happy everyone's okay."

"All the same," said James, "we ought to celebrate. I'll invite Sirius and Remus and the others to dinner tonight."

"That sounds nice," Harry agreed.

"Anyone else you'd like to invite?" asked James.

Harry considered this. Of course his mother was at the top of his list, but that was too dangerous given everything going on. He thought briefly of Tracey, whom he had not technically broken up with, but he doubted she wanted anything to do with him now. Perhaps Luna, his one remaining friend at Hogwarts, but he did not want to drag her into his family's drama and put her on the Dark Lord's radar. There was only one other person he really cared to be there.

"I'll write to Fleur and see if she's free," he said.

Guests began arriving in the late afternoon, starting with Remus and Alessia, who set to work preparing the meal. Aunt Petunia arrived next with Damian in tow, the former helping in the kitchen and the latter disappearing upstairs to visit Kreacher. Sirius and Amelia arrived soon after, as well as James, who rarely arrived home before nightfall but made the exception today. One of the last to arrive was Dahlia, who had spent the entire day working at St. Mungo's, looking spent.

"What a mess," she groaned as she tore off her rumpled Healer's robes and flopped to the floor of the study. "Someone had the bright idea of putting Peter Pettigrew in charge of the hospital, and he's been slowing everybody down by scrutinizing every move the Healers make."

"Pettigrew? What the hell does he know about Healing?" Harry scoffed.

"Nothing useful," Dahlia sighed. "But he had no problem harassing the staff and demanding confidential records on patients suspected to be 'rebels'. He followed me around for half my shift, watching my every move."

"I hope he didn't give you too hard of a time," said Harry.

"He was quite chatty and friendly with me, actually," Dahlia remarked. "Kept telling me how kind and helpful I was...that I reminded him of Alice."

"Well, that could be worse, I suppose," said Harry. "Pettigrew was very fond of Alice when they were young – I would take that as a sign of respect."

"Oh, clearly he respected her loads," Dahlia snorted cynically. "Considering how he grabbed my arse when my back was turned."

"He did what?!" Harry growled. His wand flew into his hand without conscious thought, murderous ideas swirling in his brain.

"Don't overreact," Dahlia reprimanded him sharply. "I told him off for it, and he apologized. I'm a big girl who can handle herself."

"That doesn't make it okay," said Harry angrily. "I ought to cut off his other hand for that."

"You will do no such thing," Dahlia said firmly. "I won't have you getting into more trouble on my behalf. Forget I said anything."

"It's unacceptable," said Harry. "We should at least tell Dad. You do not deserve that kind of treatment."

"Look, Harry," said Dahlia, standing from her chair. "War is never kind to young women like me. I'll probably have to deal with much worse than some light groping by the time this war is over. I know you're protective of me, but I won't have you white-knighting every time something minor happens to me. It will only make things worse for everybody."

Her words did little to assuage Harry's anger. If anything, the bleak injustice made him all the more furious at Pettigrew, and everyone other bastard empowered by Voldemort's rise. "Fine," he managed through gritted teeth. "But if something truly bad happens to you, I want to know about it. I won't let you suffer in silence."

Dahlia nodded grimly at him, before hurrying up the stairs to her room to change. Harry could tell she was more upset about the incident – hell, about the entire war situation – than she was letting on. She was the bravest person he knew, minimizing her own suffering so as to not make that of others around her worse.

Pettigrew will get what's coming to him too, Harry told himself. His day of reckoning will come, and I'll be there when it does. This time he was certain the thoughts were his own, as the Elder Wand was upstairs in his bedroom. And this time, he didn't feel the least bit bad about them – fantasies of retribution were the only thing keeping him sane.

Fleur arrived for dinner at seven, smiling broadly when she saw Harry. "Happy birthday, 'Arry," she said, greeting him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for coming, Fleur," said Harry. "How's your leg?"

"Good as new," said Fleur, lifting her robes to show that her injured leg was fully intact and spotless. "I told you not to worry about me. It is you I was most worried about when I heard what 'appened."

"I suppose you heard the news from the Prophet?" Harry grimaced, remembering the false article that had been printed the morning after the battle.

"Everyone at ze hospital knew what really 'appened," Fleur said darkly. "Nobody buys ze official story. But they are all too afraid to speak up and question it."

Harry nodded – he'd figured as much. If there was one thing he knew about the wizarding community, it was that they would go to great lengths to pretend that all was right in the world. Even with all the evidence pointing to the rise of a horrifying dictator to power, they would rather bury their heads in the sand and deny the reality in front of them.

"Ah, Miss Delacour, you made it," said James, entering the room and greeting Fleur with a handshake. "I owe you a great deal of gratitude...Dahlia told me that you helped to protect her during the battle."

"It was nothing," said Fleur. "I know that 'Arry would 'ave done the same for my Gabrielle."

James smiled and nodded, but then a darker expression crossed his features. "Are you certain you wish to involve yourself with us, Fleur?" he asked. "I don't want you to be lumped in with the rest of us and viewed as some kind of threat by Voldemort and his followers."

"They already know that my family 'as helped yours in ze past," Fleur shrugged indifferently. "I am not afraid to be associated with you. Besides, they surely know better than to anger my father, who can cause many problems for ze Dark Lord with his connections overseas."

James nodded in understanding. "Thank you for being there for my children," he said, giving Fleur a hug. "We consider you a part of our family already."

"Likewise," said Fleur. "Thank you for your 'ospitality."

Dinner commenced soon after, as the Potters and their surrogate relatives sat around the table eating and conversing quietly. It was a more muted affair than normal; conversations were hushed and about largely unimportant topics. Harry knew that the fear of Lockhart's mind invasions kept them from discussing anything that might be dangerous information for the Dark Lord to learn. It resulted in a somber atmosphere that made the celebration feel more like a formality.

As the meal wound to a close, Sirius stood and got everyone's attention. "I have something to announce," he said awkwardly. "You all know that Amelia and I have been living together for the past few months. Well, we've decided to get married."

"Congratulations!" Dahlia said giddily. Remus and Alessia also looked pleased, while James looked surprised.

"What changed your mind, Padfoot?" he asked. "I thought you never wanted to get married."

"Well, recent events have made me question things," said Sirius. "I realized that life is too short to spend it alone. Being a bachelor is fun and all, but it isn't as fulfilling as sharing my life with the people I love." Amelia beamed beside him, accepting a kiss from her new fiancé.

"I didn't give him much choice in the matter," she said, resting a hand on her stomach. "I would not allow our child to grow up without a stable household."

It took a moment for everyone to register that statement. Then, the room exploded in excitement, as everyone rushed to congratulate Amelia and Sirius on the good news. Harry engulfed his godfather in a hug, as Alessia, Dahlia and Petunia fussed over Amelia, peppering her with questions and excited plans for the future.

"Have you decided on a date for the wedding?" asked James.

"Not yet," said Sirius. "But we figure sometime this fall or winter, before Lia here is too top-heavy to walk down the aisle." Amelia swatted him playfully on the arm at this quip.

"A shame, that," said Remus. "Alessia and I won't be able to make it."

The room quieted at this remark. "Why wouldn't you be able to come, Moony?" Sirius frowned.

Remus and Alessia glanced at each other. "We, er, have something to announce as well," said Remus awkwardly. "Alessia and I are leaving for the continent in a few days, and we don't know when we'll be returning."

"What?" said James, looking alarmed. "Why are you leaving?"

"It isn't going to be safe here for us much longer," Remus grimaced. "The Ministry has begun rounding up people suspected of conspiring against them. We figure that it would be best that we settle down outside of Britain, since we're known associates of the old Order."

"Amelia and I are known associates too," Sirius pointed out. "And we're not leaving."

"You're both pure-bloods, and heirs to noble Houses," Remus retorted. "I'm a registered former werewolf, and Alessia is a foreigner. We'd be the first victims if sentiment shifts against minorities, which it likely will soon."

"Where will you go?" asked Amelia. "And what will you do?"

Remus hesitated before answering. "We, erm, plan on traveling for a while," he said. "And we haven't decided what we'll do yet."

The others considered this in silence. Harry realized that Remus was being deliberately vague, and not entirely truthful with them. If Lockhart viewed the memory of this conversation, he could relay Remus and Alessia's destination to Voldemort, putting them in further danger. It was a sad reality that they had to hide their true plans from their loved ones in order to avoid future complications.

"We're going to miss you both," said James, giving both Remus and Alessia a hug. "I'd hoped to be best man for your wedding as well, but I guess that will have to wait."

"Yes, we had hoped to marry soon as well," Remus said forlornly, looking to Alessia with a sad smile. "Maybe someday the stars will align and we can all be together again to celebrate it."

Everyone nodded in agreement with this sentiment. Then, Fleur piped up, "Well, we are all together now...why not get married tonight?"

Remus gave her a surprised look. "Tonight?" he repeated. "But...that is not possible."

"Why not?" asked Fleur. "Your loved ones are all present, and ze Minister can officiate it. When will you get another chance like this?"

"It can be a double wedding!" Dahlia added excitedly, looking to Sirius and Amelia. The two couples looked at each other, considering the proposition.

"It's awfully last-minute and spur of the moment," Sirius remarked. "That's a Marauder specialty, is it not, Moony?"

Remus looked bemused by the idea. "What do you say, darling?" he asked Alessia. "Care to tie the knot sooner than planned?" Alessia beamed and nodded enthusiastically; Sirius looked to Amelia, who also agreed.

So the group scrambled to throw together a last-minute wedding ceremony. The boys set to work rearranging the living room, while the girls disappeared upstairs to prepare. Harry transfigured Sirius and Remus' clothes into nice dress robes, as their brides-to-be descended the stairs in makeshift white gowns, carrying bouquets of flowers Dahlia plucked from the garden outside.

The ceremony was quick and improvised, but no less special. The two pairs of newlyweds stood together holding hands, exchanging vows as James oversaw the proceedings. Harry acted as ring-bearer and Dahlia as flower girl, as Fleur and the Dursleys watched on from the sofa. Eventually James declared the union complete, and the two couples kissed, as Fleur and Dahlia cheered and jumped up and down excitedly.

Harry felt Fleur's sidelong glance upon him throughout the ceremony, and in the celebrations after. Sirius broke out a stash of liquor and put on some music, and soon everyone but Amelia was drinking and chatting lightly with one another. Harry was not much in the mood for such lighthearted banter, his mind bogged down by the crushing weight of everything they were facing.

Eventually Fleur dragged Harry into another room to confront him. "Why are you acting so gloomy?" she demanded. "This is supposed to be a day of celebration."

"Not in the mood for celebration," Harry shrugged.

"Today is a magnifique day for your family," said Fleur. "You 'ave become a man, both of your uncles are married, Amelia is expecting, and I am certain you will be named godfather of ze child. You should be happy!"

"It's hard to be happy with everything else going on," Harry muttered. "We'll all probably be dead in a matter of months anyway, so why should I act like—oi!"

Fleur slapped Harry lightly across the cheek. "I will not allow you to lose hope," she reprimanded him. "Things are bad right now, but we will keep fighting, non?"

"Er...sure, I guess," said Harry. "But our chances of success are looking lower by the day—"

"My father 'as demanded that I return home to France to wait out zis war," said Fleur. "But I refused, because I know you and I have unfinished business. Was I wrong to think so? Are you just going to roll over and give up, waiting to die?"

"No!" Harry protested. "I'm going to keep fighting. I just didn't think today was an appropriate time for a celebration, is all."

"We need moments to celebrate now more than ever," Fleur retorted. "Something to 'ope for. A brighter future to strive towards. Otherwise, what will we 'ave but endless misery and heartbreak? We must take these moments as they come, so that we do not lose ourselves to despair."

Harry considered her words. He supposed she had a point: in such dark days, any bit of light was worth clinging to, in order to summon the strength to carry on. If the Potters somehow made it out of this war alive, Harry wanted to look back on this day as a happy one. And if they didn't make it out alive? Well, then at least they got a brief moment of joy before the end.

"You're right," he sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring the mood down."

"I know," Fleur nodded. "Now, can we put zis terrible war to the side for one night and just enjoy ourselves?"

"I suppose so," Harry grinned.

"Good," said Fleur, taking his hand. "Because I wish to dance, and I will not do it alone."

Harry chuckled and allowed himself to be dragged back into the main room. He and Fleur began dancing an improvised jig in the center of the room, where they were quickly joined by Sirius and Remus, dragging their respective new brides onto the floor with them. James then led a reluctant Petunia into a dance, followed shortly by Dahlia and Damian, all dancing along to the upbeat music, laughing and enjoying one another's company.

Fleur was right: it felt good to let loose and pretend everything was okay for a little while. The group danced and laughed all through the night, swapping dance partners and daring to act a little silly for a change. Even the normally uptight Amelia managed to smile and enjoy herself, looking freer and more joyful than Harry had ever seen her. She and Sirius looked at one another with looks of undisguised affection, as did Remus and Alessia, with the respective couples retiring to bed after nightfall, followed soon after by the others.

Harry thought back to what Voldemort had said to him earlier that day: "Your love for your family is a weakness." He suspected that the opposite, in fact, may be the case. It was his love for his family that gave him the strength to carry on. It was their love for him that picked him up when he fell, healing his wounds and assuaging his fears. And it was for that love that he would fight, until his dying breath, to bring an end to this monster one way or another.

A/N: Real life has gotten busy again, so new chapters may be posted every other Monday from now on rather than weekly. Sorry to everyone that is disappointed by the new direction this story is taking. It's only going to get darker from here, so if you choose not to continue reading on, I understand. But for those who stick around, thanks for your continued support, and I'll do my best to deliver a satisfying ending.