Year 7-07: Registration Day

Harry's Order of Merlin ceremony was scheduled to take place on the fourteenth of August, two weeks after its announcement. The Prophet made a great show of the upcoming event, celebrating Harry's defeat of the 'dangerous Dark wizard Dumbledore' and applauding newly-appointed Headmaster Snape for selecting Harry as Head Boy. "It's only right that the Hero of Hogwarts should finish his illustrious academic career at the top," one article proclaimed.

But Harry was not the only Potter dominating the headlines. The story of James and Lily's split was wildly popular, with daily updates and speculations on what may have caused it. The country was firmly split into two camps: those who believed Lily was a lowly tramp who ran out on her perfect family out of selfish greed, and those who believed James must have done something truly atrocious behind closed doors to drive her away.

For the most part, Harry believed this was all a distraction tactic to keep the public talking about anything other than the ongoing takeover of the Ministry by Voldemort's cronies. But it turned out that the story served a greater purpose, one that had him kicking himself for not seeing it coming sooner. Two days before the ceremony, the Prophet ran the following headline that had Harry gaping in disbelief:

REVENGE TACTICS? MINISTER POTTER ANNOUNCES NEW MUGGLE-BORN LAWS TO SPURN EX-WIFE

By Sabrina Vane, The Daily Prophet

"Minister of Magic James Potter today announced a series of sweeping reforms addressing blood purity concerns within Britain. In a statement to the press yesterday afternoon, Potter indicated that he hoped to resolve the 'Muggle-born problem' that has plagued wizarding society for decades.

'Muggle-borns have enjoyed equal status with regular witches and wizards for many decades now,' said Potter, who is also Lord to a noble House. 'However, it has become clear in that time that they are simply unable to integrate properly into our society. They are lazy, entitled, and only cause problems for the civilized hard-working folk around them.'

Reporters asked the Minister if the laws are at any way related to his ongoing divorce with Lily Evans, who is famously a Muggle-born herself. 'My ex-wife has nothing to do with this,' Potter insisted. 'But she is a prime example of the kind of person our society could do without: a greedy, manipulative liar taking advantage of those who are actually contributing to the system.'

Today, the Wizengamot is expected to pass much of Potter's proposed legislation, thanks to Lord Dale Greengrass, who has acted as Potter's spokesperson within the voting body. 'I fully support the Minister's measures to make our society safer and more stable,' said Lord Greengrass. 'The Muggle-Born Registration Act will help us protect real British citizens from being taken advantage of.'

The proposed Registration Act will require all Muggle-born wizarding citizens to submit themselves to questioning by a Ministry committee, who will determine if they are worthy of keeping their citizenship. Additionally, all Muggle-borns will be barred from employment and enrollment in wizarding schools until they complete said registration.

'Muggle-borns have nothing to fear if they have done nothing wrong,' Minister Potter reiterated. 'Only criminals will be prosecuted. This is simply a way to make sure there is no funny business going on...Merlin forbid we have another Dumbledore situation on our hands. Hopefully this will only be a temporary measure until we figure out what the hell is going on!'

Albus Dumbledore famously championed Muggle-borns throughout his life and supported legislation that protected their rights as citizens. In light of his recent terrorist efforts to destabilize our government, it calls into question his true motives behind such actions. Was he raising a Muggle-born army at Hogwarts? Did he intend to upend our centuries-old culture with his horde of troublemakers? It is a chilling concern, one that the Registration Act will hopefully lay to rest."

Harry felt numb reading the article, barely able to comprehend it. The thought of such dangerous, radical legislation being passed so openly was beyond infuriating – it was mind-numbingly sad. Decades, if not centuries of progress were being wiped away in a single day, and there was little he could do to stop it.

How many people would this law affect? He didn't know the exact statistics, but it seemed that at least one in five people he came across was Muggle-born or only had a sole wizarding relative. How many of his classmates would not be allowed to return to Hogwarts? Dean Thomas, the Creevey brothers, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and dozens more...not to mention the scores of Ministry workers and Wizengamot members whom the law affected. And they would be the most likely to oppose Voldemort's broader policies, making them the perfect scapegoat to do away with.

Harry didn't buy for one second that 'only criminals will be prosecuted'. Sure, that would be the cover story, but the committee would get to decide what constituted criminality, wouldn't they? For all he knew, they would invent some nonsense about them 'stealing magic' from proper pure-bloods, a concept he'd heard thrown around by several Slytherin classmates in the past, to justify locking every Muggle-born away – or worse.

And he knew this would only make his life at Hogwarts that much harder. His peers would already hate him for what he did to Dumbledore – now they would view him as a silent enabler of the prejudicial laws, an enforcer of the worst kind of bigotry imaginable. And he couldn't speak a word against it publicly, or Voldemort would know he was not truly loyal to the cause. Part of him wished that he had just been killed rather than be forced to support such hatred.

No, that wouldn't help anybody, Harry thought grimly. His circumstances were dire, but he was far from the biggest victim here. He still had the ability to affect change, to subtly improve the conditions for those being oppressed. He would just have to be careful about doing so, because not only would he be killed if he was caught, Voldemort would then replace him with somebody more willing to enable hatred.

Harry could only imagine how difficult it had been for his father to say such hateful words. James was the most open-minded person he knew when it came to blood purity, and it must have been torture to act as Voldemort's mouthpiece and support this heinous policy. He didn't get the opportunity to speak to his father about it until the morning of his ceremony, when he found James in the kitchen eating breakfast.

"Eat fast," James told him. "We want to get to the Ministry early before the madness begins."

"D'you reckon there will be more protesters in the Atrium?" asked Harry.

"Oh, certainly not," James muttered. "People are too afraid to protest – they know they'll just wind up on a watch list, or worse. But there will be people there watching – reporters, Wizengamot members – and we want to get through the checkpoint before they all arrive."

Unfortunately, this proved impossible even with an early start, as James and Harry arrived to a great hubbub in the Atrium. Camera lenses clicked, voices shouted over one another as the Minister and his son arrived. Security kept the masses at bay and waved the two Potters through, like two celebrities walking the red carpet.

Soon Harry found himself in a lift alone with his father, standing in silence as it transported them down to the courtrooms on Level Ten. Harry badly wanted to ask about the new Muggle-born laws, to find out if there were any loopholes or other provisions James had managed to sneak through to protect them. But he had to be very careful what he said...Lockhart could view the memory at a later date, and you never knew who was listening in at the Ministry.

"How are you doing, Dad?" he asked instead.

James glanced cautiously at Harry. "Fine, son, just fine," he sighed.

"You've been working a lot lately," Harry pointed out. "Maybe you ought to take a break and rest."

"Too busy to take a break," said James gruffly. "Too much work that needs doing. Too many people counting on my every move."

He gave Harry a significant look that said, drop it. Harry was able to read between the lines and deduce that James was doing what he could to mitigate the negative effects of the bill – he just couldn't admit it aloud. It wasn't much consolation, but it was a glimmer of hope in a dire situation.

They arrived at the courtrooms, where much of the Wizengamot had already begun to congregate for the ceremony. James and Harry took their seats at the head of the room, next to Amelia Bones and Andromeda Tonks (now back to Andromeda Black, Harry realized sadly). He sat patiently waiting for the proceedings to begin, ignoring the pointed stares from the many Wizengamot members filing into the courtroom. Based on the subtle glares he received, he could tell that they knew the truth of his situation, even if they could no longer say it aloud.

Harry felt something poking at his leg as the final stragglers took their seats. He looked down; a slip of enchanted parchment was jabbing at his ankle. With a quick glance around, Harry knelt down as if to tie his shoe and unfolded the parchment below his bench. Scribbled handwriting greeted him within:

Harry,

Meet me in my office after the ceremony. Speak to no one about this.

-Amelia

To his surprise, the parchment then began to self-immolate, burning to a crisp and disappearing in a thin wisp of gray smoke. Harry straightened himself, glancing at Amelia; she sat stony-faced, staring straight ahead and not acknowledging him. He said nothing, figuring it must be something important if it warranted such subterfuge.

Eventually Andromeda stood and took to the pulpit to begin the meeting. "Senior Undersecretary Black presiding," she announced, and the room fell to a hush. "We are gathered here today to recognize the achievement of Harry James Potter, for his efforts to quash an insurrectionist plot to overthrow the Ministry of Magic and put a stop to the dark wizard Albus Dumbledore. For his services to Britain, he is therefore awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class."

The Wizengamot rose to its feet and began to clap as Andromeda beckoned Harry forward. He rose to the pulpit as James stood beside him, placing a hefty medal around his shoulders. Camera shutters clicked, and Harry did his best not to scowl, knowing Voldemort would be displeased if he made too big a show of his displeasure.

"Speech!" someone shouted, and the room fell respectfully silent. Harry groaned internally...the last thing he wanted to do was speak publicly about what happened between him and Dumbledore. He wracked his brain, trying to find the right thing to say to appease his master without making an even bigger enemy of those he still considered his allies.

"Thank you for this honor," said Harry. "I was only doing what I could to make a better Britain. If everyone strove to do the same, we could achieve our goal of a more harmonious and peaceful world. And I hope that we will."

He took his seat as the room politely applauded his short message. He hoped that others would be able to read between the lines and know that not all hope was lost, that he was still fighting for a better future. It was the best he could do to without tipping his hand to Voldemort.

Amelia Bones disappeared soon after the ceremony's conclusion. Harry made to follow her, but he was mobbed by admirers, as many Wizengamot members came up to congratulate him and curry favor.

"Well done, Mr. Potter, well done! Might we have a word later about these Mudblood employment measures? I lost several good workers to the new laws."

"Will you help convince the new Headmaster to let my son on the Quidditch team this year? He's only a first-year, but he'll be a pro one day, believe you me!"

"Harry! Might I introduce you to my daughter Merula? She's a bit older than you, but I am certain you two would make a perfect match!"

Harry politely brushed them all off, making vague promises to meet later that he had no intention of honoring. He was handed at least half a dozen marriage contract offers, which he looked forward to throwing in the fire later. Or maybe he'd give them to Dahlia for a bit of levity – he was certain most of them contained salacious photos of the young pure-blood witches in question, performing such debaucherous actions as showing a bit of collarbone or, Merlin forbid, smiling for the camera.

He made his way back through the Atrium and up to the administrative level. The last time he'd been here, the place had been all but destroyed by Voldemort and his people, scores of bodies littering the ground. Now it appeared like nothing had happened at all, workers quietly attending to their duties at their desks. It was chilling to see just how quickly normalcy had been restored after such a devastating event.

Harry spotted Amelia's office and made his way across the floor. But a voice called out after him...a voice that made a cold shiver run down his spine, a voice he'd hoped to never hear again:

"Yoo-hoo! Mr. Potter! A word?"

Harry turned, fighting the urge to retch violently as a toad-like woman dressed in a garish pink cardigan tottered over towards him. He thought he'd seen the last of Dolores Umbridge in this timeline, yet here she was again, in the flesh. A fly he simply could not swat.

"Madam," Harry said, fighting with every fiber of his being not to be rude. "What can I do for you?"

"I simply wished to introduce myself," said Umbridge, extending a grubby hand toward him. "Dolores Jane Umbridge. I have been hired to head the Muggle-Born Registration Commission."

Harry again forced himself not to throttle the woman on the spot, instead accepting her handshake. Murderous thoughts swirled around his brain, and he could not tell which were the Elder Wand's and which were his own.

"I'm eager to get to work on cleaning out the filth from our society," Umbridge said gleefully. "I had hoped to start with your slag of a mother, but sadly, she has been exempted from the list...I'm sure you would love to see her punished for her disloyalty, wouldn't you?"

Harry felt like a blood vessel was about to pop up his neck from the tension. "Hadn't crossed my mind, no," he said through gritted teeth.

"I also heard a rumor that you had a Muggle-born cousin," Umbridge tutted, as she flipped through pieces of parchment on her clipboard. "But for the life of me, I cannot find a 'Damian Dursley' on the list. Perhaps there is a typo?"

"Or perhaps you are mistaken," Harry said firmly. He had no idea why Damian wasn't on the list, but he wouldn't admit to anything if he could be spared.

"My sources sounded quite sure," Umbridge said, sounding disappointed. "Oh, well. I'm certain we will get to the truth in the end."

"You're an Umbridge, you say?" said Harry. "I can't say I've heard that family name. Is it magical?"

"Of course it is," Umbridge bristled. "My father, Orford Umbridge, was a distinguished Ministry employee in his day!"

"And your mother?" Harry pressed. "I presume she was entirely pure herself?"

Harry sensed hesitance in Umbridge's response, and knew that he'd struck a nerve. "She may have had a Muggle ancestor or two," she admitted offhandedly. "But who doesn't? And my grandparents are at least fifty percent magical, so I legally qualify as a half-blood."

"As do I," Harry nodded. "For now."

Umbridge frowned. "For now?" she repeated.

"The Ministry might go after Muggle-borns first," said Harry. "But what happens when that list of yours runs out? Will they stop there? Or will they continue to purge the impure from their ranks? What if the standards are changed, and you must have three magical grandparents to qualify? Or all four?"

Color drained from Umbridge's face at this suggestion. "They wouldn't," she stubbornly denied. "They couldn't."

"Don't be so certain," Harry shrugged. "Policies can change quickly in unstable times, as you well know. But I wouldn't worry too much about it. Good day, Dolores." And Harry strode off, leaving a stammering Umbridge behind. He loathed the woman with a burning passion, and it gave him no small pressure to watch her squirm under the pressure a little.

Harry knocked and entered Amelia's office, closing the door behind him. "You wanted to see me?" he asked.

Amelia flicked her wand to shut the blinds so they could not be seen or heard. "We need to talk about your cousin Damian," she said.

"What about him?" asked Harry. "Is he safe?"

"Yes, he's fine," said Amelia. "He'll be returning to school with you this fall."

"What about Umbridge's list?" Harry frowned. "Why isn't he on it?"

"That's what we need to talk about," said Amelia. "We've found a way to keep him off the list and enrolled in Hogwarts."

"But...he's Muggle-born," said Harry. "Everyone at the school and the Ministry knows that."

"They know his parents are non-magical," Amelia corrected.

"Same thing."

"Actually, it isn't," said Amelia. "Think, Harry: when is a non-magical not a Muggle?"

Harry found this to be a ridiculous question. But then, the answer came to him in a flash. "When they're a Squib?" he asked.

"Precisely," said Amelia. "Which is what we're going to pretend Petunia is."

"But don't Squibs come from magical parents?" asked Harry, bewildered. "Everyone knows my Mum is Muggle-born, too...why would her sister be any different?"

"Because Petunia is not Lily's sister," said Amelia. "Not anymore. From now on she is your father James' Squib sister, exiled from the Potter family at a young age. And that means that Damian would have two magical grandparents, legally making him a half-blood."

Harry frowned, trying to wrap his head around this plan. "But...doesn't everyone know my dad didn't have any siblings?" he asked. "Surely having an extra sibling is a hard thing to keep a secret."

"Look, Harry, it's more common than you think," Amelia sighed. "Every pure-blood family has given birth to a Squib at some point or another. It is traditional for such families to pretend their non-magical offspring never existed, to avoid the shame associated with such a dishonor. My own grandfather had a Squib brother that was removed from the family and sent abroad as an infant."

"That's barbaric," Harry said, horrified.

"Well, in this case, it might just save your cousin's life," Amelia said grimly. "If we can pass Damian off as a Potter, they might just leave him alone and let him continue at Hogwarts."

"And you think people will buy that?" Harry asked skeptically.

"How many of your classmates know which side of the family Damian comes from?" asked Amelia pointedly. "Would they bat an eye if you told them he was descended from the Potters?"

"No, I guess not," Harry admitted. As crazy as it was, the plan seemed fairly sound.

"So if anyone asks," said Amelia, "Petunia Evans never existed. She was Petunia Potter, a Squib who married a Dursley. Can you and your sister remember that?"

Harry considered this. "If it keeps Damian safe," Harry shrugged. "Who else knows about this?"

"Nobody," said Amelia. "Your father asked for me to update Damian's Ministry records, then to Obliviate him so he would not remember the request."

Harry shook his head in amazement at the hoops his family had to jump through to avoid detection at Lockhart's hand. "What about you?" he asked. "What if your memories are viewed?"

"One of the perks of being an expecting mother," said Amelia, patting her belly gently. "Lockhart knows there is a risk his mind invasions could harm my magic, and therefore my child's. He would never risk harming a pure-blood child, not when so few are left in this country."

Harry nodded forlornly – he supposed that was a silver lining. "Thank you, Madam Bones," he said, standing to shake her hand. "For everything."

"Please, it's Amelia," she responded with a thin smile. "We're basically family now, Harry. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."

Harry nodded and departed the office. As he returned home, he realized that Amelia could serve as a confidant within the Ministry if he needed. But it would also put a time limit on any secrets he divulged with her – once she gave birth, she would presumably be subject to scrutiny again, risking the truth falling into Voldemort's hands once more. He would need to consult with Fleur before determining how much they ought to share with Amelia about their secret mission.

Speaking of which, he had plans to meet with Fleur the week before the Hogwarts Express was due to depart. He Apparated to Raven House at the designated time, but she was not there yet, so he busied himself with checking his potion supplies. Most of his stores had been depleted by Dahlia in the aftermath of the battle, so he set about preparing to brew more Blood Replenishers and Wiggenweld Potions until he heard Fleur arrive downstairs.

"About time you showed—" he began to quip, but stopped at once when he noticed the look on Fleur's face. "What is it, Fleur?"

"Nothing," she said brusquely, looking like she was fighting back tears. "Let us talk."

She tried to move past him to sit on the sofa, but Harry stopped her, scrutinizing her face. He detected subtle magic concealing her features; he waved his wand, dispelling the glamour she had applied, and gasped. Fleur sported a black eye and bruising all over the left side of her face; she avoided Harry's gaze, staring embarrassed at the floor.

"It is nothing," she muttered. "Please don't make a big deal of it."

"Who was it?" he snarled. "Bill?"

"Non...some of my other co-workers, I think," Fleur sniffed, tears welling in her eyes. "Zey must 'ave known where I lived, because they ambushed me outside my flat. Called me a dirty half-breed and hit me a few times until ze neighbors heard, and they left."

"Those bastards," Harry growled. "You have to report this. They won't get away with it."

"Yes, they will," Fleur said forlornly. "Eet is more common in Diagon Alley lately. People are emboldened by ze new laws and are targeting others they deem inferior."

"You don't have to put up with such mistreatment," Harry said angrily. "Find out who they were, and I'll take care of them myself."

"I will not 'ave you get into trouble on my behalf!" Fleur retorted. "I can 'andle myself...I will simply Apparate directly into my flat from now on."

"If they know where you live, that still might not be safe," Harry pointed out. "What if they decide not to let you off so easy the next time?"

"What would you 'ave me do, then?" Fleur demanded. "I will not leave Britain. Our work 'ere is too important."

Harry considered this. "You could move in here," he suggested. "You're already Secret-Keeper, and only me and Dahlia know about this place. No one would be able to follow you here."

Fleur looked around the place thoughtfully. "I would not want to impose on your sanctuary," she said.

"You wouldn't be imposing," he insisted. "I won't be able to come that often anyway, since I'll be at Hogwarts. I'd only be here on weekends, and I could warn you before showing up unannounced."

Fleur considered the proposal. "It is not such a bad idea," she admitted. "I would 'ave more privacy here. I would lose access to ze Floo Network, but that is not so bad."

"So you'll do it?"

"I will try it," said Fleur. "For a short while, to see if it works out."

"Good," Harry sighed. He felt a lot better knowing that Fleur was safe in her own home, especially given all that she knew about him. "Now, let's get you something for your face."

Fleur sat on the sofa as he looked around for something to treat her wounds. The best he could find was a vial of murtlap essence; he soaked a small rag in it and instructed Fleur to hold it to her face.

"It's fine," she snapped at him as he hovered worriedly over her. "Do not fuss over me, 'Arry Potter. Let's talk strategy."

"Alright," said Harry, sitting beside her. "Obviously, things are going to be tricky with me stuck at the castle all year. Then of course, there's this."

He rolled up his sleeve and showed her the Dark Mark. Fleur peered at it nervously.

"'Ow much can it monitor you?" she asked. "Does it know everything you do?"

"I don't think so," said Harry. "Otherwise, Snape wouldn't have been able to work as a spy against him. I plan on speaking with him when term begins to find out exactly how it works."

"And you think that Snape will be honest with you?" asked Fleur.

"Yes," said Harry. "He is still under an Unbreakable Vow to my mother to keep me safe. It's the reason I'm alive in the first place. He wouldn't rat me out to Voldemort – he couldn't."

"Then do you think 'e can help us with our mission?" Fleur suggested.

"Hell no," Harry spat. "He may be protective of me, but he has no reason to seek Voldemort's downfall. It's the only way he can keep my mother to himself, and to avoid prison time. Telling him about the horcruxes would be disastrous."

"Alright," Fleur nodded glumly. "Then what is our plan?"

"I'm going to work on obtaining the Sorting Hat," said Harry. "Whether I have to steal it from Snape's office or find an excuse to borrow it, doesn't matter. As long as he doesn't realize how vital it is to the war effort against his master."

"What about me?"

"We have to figure out which vault that Cup is in," said Harry. "Keep looking for a way we can get in once we do. Any loopholes in the Gringotts rules that we can exploit. If it comes down to a heist, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Alright," Fleur nodded. "I'll try my best."

"There's one other thing we can consider," said Harry. And he told her about his conversation with Amelia Bones, and the unspoken understanding that they could entrust her with information without it falling into Lockhart's hands.

"She would be a powerful ally," Fleur acknowledged. "But what if something goes wrong? What if Lockhart suspects her and invades her mind anyway, or Merlin forbid, she suffers a miscarriage? She will no longer be able to protect us."

"I know," Harry muttered. "But it's a resource that is available all the same. I think we should wait until we are closer to finding a solution, then bring her in to help us once we're ready to enact a plan."

"That seems wise," Fleur nodded. "And if we fail to find a solution, she can be our last resort."

"Agreed."

"What about the snake?" asked Fleur. "And Neville?"

"Those will just have to wait until the end, I think," Harry sighed. "Nagini is usually with her master, and we have no way of finding Neville right now. But he'll have to come to us eventually."

"Why?"

"For this," said Harry, twiddling the Elder Wand at her. "He believes he needs this to win the war. Eventually he'll try to lure me into some kind of trap to get the Wand back."

"And do you think you will be able to 'andle him when he does?" Fleur asked. When Harry gave her an incredulous look, she giggled and said, "Sorry, only joking."

"Things will have to happen very close together," said Harry. "He'll surely notice if we break into the vault where the Cup is, and for all we know he'll be able to sense when the Sword is pulled from the Sorting Hat. We'll have a small window to destroy them both, kill the snake, and deal with Neville's scar."

"And then kill Voldemort," Fleur pointed out.

"And then kill Voldemort," Harry agreed grimly.

Neither of them brought up the unspoken question: how exactly would they deal with Neville's scar? They had yet to find a solution to removing the horcrux without killing him, save for Dumbledore's hare-brained scheme to make him Master of Death. Would Harry give him the Wand and the Stone in the hopes that Neville could fulfill the prophecy? Or should he take his own chances against the Dark Lord, sacrificing Neville and fighting Voldemort himself?

Harry had gotten the best of his last encounter with Voldemort, and knew he could at least hold his own against the dangerous man. But now he had the Dark Mark, adding a fresh complication to their dynamic. Besides, did he really want to surrender to the Elder Wand again? Would doing so cause him to fall into the same pitfall that doomed Grindelwald to lose to Dumbledore? It was a difficult choice with the outcome of the entire war hanging in the balance, and Harry truly didn't know what the right course of action was.

But he didn't have to figure that out right now. Many other things had to happen first before it even came to that, so there was little point in stressing about it.

"I brought something for you," said Harry, reaching into his robes. He withdrew a small diary, which he'd purchased from Flourish and Blotts the week before, and handed it to Fleur.

"Thank you," said Fleur, frowning in confusion. "But I am not sure it is wise to write down my thoughts and plans."

"It's enchanted," Harry explained. "I have an identical one that's tied to it. If you write something, it'll disappear and appear in my diary, and I can respond."

"Zat is brilliant," said Fleur, examining the small booklet. "'Ow did you get the idea?"

"Just a small project I've been fiddling with," Harry shrugged. He didn't want to admit it, but the idea had partially come from Tom Riddle's diary in his second year. He figured out the magic behind it through trial and error, then used a Geminio Charm to pair it to another copy, inspired by Hermione's Galleons in his original fifth year. "Just make sure it doesn't fall into enemy hands."

"I will keep it here," Fleur nodded, standing and placing the diary in a cupboard. "And check it daily. Do try to keep me updated on what is 'appening at ze school."

"Likewise at Gringotts," said Harry. "I want to know if anyone else gives you trouble. I do have some power now, and I won't hesitate to use it if it will keep you safe."

"Alright," Fleur sighed. Harry didn't know if he believed her – both she and Dahlia seemed determined to conceal their hardships from him, perhaps recognizing that he would do something hot-headed in response. He just had to hope nothing truly egregious occurred while his back was turned.

"I guess this is goodbye for now," said Harry. He gave Fleur a hug goodbye; she clung to him longer than expected, holding him tight, as if knowing they wouldn't see each other for a while.

"Please be careful," she whispered in his ear. "I do not want to go through zis alone."

"I will."

Harry didn't know what to expect when he arrived on Platform 9 on the first of September. It immediately felt strange, being among children again, some of whom looked too young to even be first-years. It wasn't as crowded as in years past – probably, he realized, because of the Muggle-born laws preventing a sizable fraction of the student body from returning.

The mood was quiet and tense as students filed onto the train. Hardly anyone spoke, as if for fear of standing out and drawing the attention of the Aurors on duty (most of whom, Harry realized, were now Voldemort sympathizers, if not outright Death Eaters). A few students spotted him and Dahlia in the crowd, casting their eyes down and scurrying away from them.

"Have a good term," said Sirius, who had volunteered to escort them to the station. "Don't forget to write."

"We will," Harry promised. They both knew there would be few letters exchanged – it was too risky to pass any information in written form in times like these. Any correspondence would have to be perfunctory and largely devoid of any real substance. He gave Sirius a reassuring nod before leading the way onto the train.

Usually, Dahlia and Damian went their own way when it came time to join their classmates, but today they stuck close to Harry. They too were the recipient of fearful looks, even some disdainful ones, and perhaps would not be welcome in their normal social circles this term.

"I wonder where Anna is?" Damian wondered aloud as they searched for a compartment.

"Anna who?" asked Dahlia.

"Anna Watson," said Damian. "My girl— er, my friend. She stopped writing to me halfway through the summer."

Harry did not answer the question. He hoped that she was absent because her mother had taken his advice and left Britain before the madness began. The worst case was that she and her mother had been taken in for questioning, but Harry didn't want to think about that scenario. He could only hope his warning had been heeded.

Eventually they found a compartment that was mostly empty, save for Luna and Demelza, who sat holding hands and talking about their vacations. They both look up as Harry stuck his head in. "Alright if we join you?" he asked politely.

Demelza looked frozen in fear, clearly intimidated by Harry's presence. Luna, on the other hand, flashed him a wide smile. "Of course!" she said cheerfully. "Come on in."

Harry, Dahlia and Damian slid into the compartment. Demelza shrunk into the corner as Harry approached; he allowed Dahlia to sit beside her, taking the seat farthest away from the girl.

"Have a good summer, girls?" Harry asked them.

"It was lovely," said Luna dreamily. "Daddy took me to Wales to observe a graphorn colony. And Dem got to come visit for a week at home – we did a lot of snogging!" Demelza blushed furiously at this.

"Sounds nice," Harry agreed. He was amazed at Luna's carefree disposition, given the gloomy environment around them. Was she truly so blind to what was going on around her? Still, it was a refreshing change of mood, listening to Luna chatter excitedly about everything and nothing, as though there wasn't a terrible war going on. Harry wished he could share her optimistic outlook on life, but at least it was nice to hear after a summer of doom and gloom.

The compartment door opened once more as the train rumbled into motion. Ginny Weasley and Astoria Greengrass poked their heads in, spying a hopeful Dahlia looking up at them. Ginny's face soured as though she'd smelled something unpleasant, throwing Harry a dirty look before retreating. Astoria lingered a moment longer, giving Dahlia an apologetic look before following her.

"Don't worry about them," Harry reassured his sister. "They just don't understand what really happened to us."

"Tori does," Dahlia sighed. "Her father is in the same position as ours. But I don't think Ginny will ever forgive me. I tried writing to her after the battle, and she just sent my letter back unopened, with 'traitor' written on the envelope. It doesn't help that I took her prefect position from her."

"You did?" asked Harry, surprised.

"I got the letter confirming it last month," Dahlia sighed, showing him the red prefect badge pinned to her robes. "I didn't want it, and tried to decline, but McGonagall insisted...I don't think she had a choice in the matter."

Harry grimaced...he could imagine how that would only intensify Ginny's resentment towards Dahlia, and the Potters in general. "Let me know if she gives you any problems in the dorms," said Harry. "I'll make sure that—"

"I can handle Ginny Weasley just fine, thanks," Dahlia said snippily. "She's far from the worst I'll have to deal with this term, and you know it."

Harry wished he could disagree, but he knew they would have many enemies within the castle. Not only would their former allies resent them for doing the bidding of Voldemort (even if it wasn't officially confirmed), their Slytherin rivals would continue to distrust them and suspect ulterior motives. He could only hope that the Potter reputation would be enough to protect the three of them from direct harm.

At one o' clock, Harry's watched beeped to indicate that it was time for the prefects meeting. He and Dahlia bid the others farewell and made their way up to the front of the train, where the prefects were beginning to congregate. Harry spotted Daphne Greengrass sitting alone in the corner, looking glum – she was the only potentially friendly face he saw, so he made his way over to her.

"Hello, Daphne," he greeted her neutrally. "Alright if I sit?"

She looked up at him with a grim expression. "I suppose I have little choice," she sighed. "Considering we'll be seeing a lot of each other this term."

"Will we?" Harry asked. She flashed him her badge, which was inscribed with H.G. for Head Girl. "Ah. Congratulations."

"Why was I chosen?" she asked Harry in a whisper. "I don't understand it. The Dark Lord knows my family is not loyal to him...he could have chosen Parkinson, or Bulstrode, or—"

"Perhaps it was Headmaster Snape's call," Harry reasoned. "He knows how responsible you are."

"Don't be naive, Harry," said Daphne. "This was deliberate. What if this is to keep my father in line? Or to force me into compliance?"

"Try not to overthink it," Harry reassured her. "You're a pure-blood – Voldemort doesn't want to spill any more magical blood. Maybe he just wants everyone to fall in line, and he's using you to signal that."

"Yes, perhaps," Daphne said uncertainly. But Harry agreed it was an odd decision. Why elevate Daphne to a position of authority when she had not demonstrated total allegiance to Voldemort? What message was that meant to send? He hoped that he was over-thinking things and there was no ulterior motive to the selection.

Harry scanned the train car as prefects continued to trickle in. Pansy Parkinson had replaced Daphne as Slytherin's seventh-year prefect, chatting excitedly to a clearly-disinterested Draco Malfoy, who was staring glumly out the window. Zacharias Smith and Susan Bones remained Hufflepuff's prefects, while Blaise Zabini had replaced Dean Thomas for Gryffindor (probably, Harry realized, because Dean was no longer enrolled at the school). Anthony Goldstein had earned his badge back for Ravenclaw; he and Padma Patil were glaring daggers at him, not shrinking away from his gaze. Harry hoped his Housemates would not cause any problems for him this term.

He waited until the last stragglers arrived before beginning his speech. "For those who don't know me," he said, feeling somewhat foolish doing so, "I'm Harry Potter, and I'll be your Head Boy this year. This is Daphne Greengrass, your Head Girl. We'll be overseeing the prefects for the upcoming term."

Nobody said a word. Some watched him warily; others diverted their gaze to Daphne; most averted their eyes completely, either out of fear, reverence, or both.

"For those who are new here, congratulations – being named prefect is a great honor," Harry continued. "You will be tasked with mentoring and disciplining the younger years, patrolling the school, and maintaining order within your House. The other students will be looking to you for guidance, so try not to set any bad examples with your behavior."

"Like murdering the Headmaster?" Anthony Goldstein grumbled mutinously under his breath. Padma Patil gave him an incredulous look, while several others gasped and looked fearfully to Harry for his reaction.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Mr. Goldstein," Harry said evenly.

"We haven't got any House points yet," Anthony scoffed.

"Then I guess Ravenclaw is starting in the negatives this year," said Harry. "Now watch your mouth." Anthony glared bitterly at Harry, but said nothing more. Harry knew the exchange would do him no favors in repairing relations with his own House, but it wouldn't do to let such insubordination slide, not this early in the term.

Luckily, there were no more outbursts as Harry continued his welcome speech, outlining the prefects' duties for the year. Once he was done, he dismissed the prefects to patrol the train, a job that he was grateful not to have to perform himself. He hoped to interact as little as possible with the other students this year...if Anthony Goldstein was any indication, he was in for a lot of antagonism from them.

Harry reconnected with Dahlia and Damian as the train pulled into Hogsmeade. They boarded a thestral-drawn carriage, which whisked them up to the castle. It gave them a few more minutes alone before the Welcome Feast separated them again.

"Listen," he told his sister and cousin. "I don't know what this term is going to look like, but we're going to have a lot of enemies in the castle. We need to watch out for one another and keep our eyes open for any threats, alright?"

"No different than any other year then, got it," Damian scoffed. Every year he'd been at Hogwarts had been a harrowing one for one reason or another.

"Damian, take this," he said, handing him a small pendant on a chain. "It's a Portkey. If you find yourself in trouble, use it to get yourself to safety. It will take you to my safe house – here, read this."

He handed Damian the slip of paper containing Fleur's handwriting. Damian read the small note, and Harry felt a small wash of magic ripple off of the boy as he was let in on the secret of Raven House.

"Portkeys won't work in the castle," Dahlia pointed out.

"You'll have to get out of the ward boundary first," said Harry. "Use the one-eyed witch's passageway, or run deep into the Forest to escape."

"You're serious about this?" Damian frowned. "You really think we'll be in that much danger?"

"Frankly, I have no idea," Harry admitted. "But it doesn't hurt to be cautious, does it? You're Muggle-born, and everyone knows it, no matter what concocted story Amelia cooked up for you." Damian conceded the point with a scowl, and Dahlia nodded forlornly in agreement.

The Great Hall wasn't nearly as crowded as it usually was, with nearly a fourth of the normal student population missing. That was just as well for Harry, who had plenty of room to himself at the Ravenclaw table. His House mates skittered away as he took his seat, leaving a ten-foot gap on either side of him, nobody willing to sit near him. It was isolating and awkward, but at least Harry wouldn't have to deal with any more snide comments from his peers.

Soon Professor McGonagall entered the Hall, the first-years trailing behind her. There were fewer than Harry could ever remember for an incoming class of students – another testament to the dire circumstances outside these walls. McGonagall passed right by Harry on her way up the center row to the front of the room. She glanced briefly in his direction, and there was no mistaking the look of deep loathing on her face, regarding him with the utmost contempt. It was like a punch to the gut from one of his favorite teachers.

Harry watched as the first-years were quickly Sorted, before Snape took to the podium to give his opening remarks. The students around the Hall continued to chatter; Snape cleared his throat, but nobody paid him any notice. Clearly he had yet to command the same gravitas as Dumbledore. Harry drew his wand and fired sparks into the air, which exploded overhead with a loud bang. The room finally quieted, looking up to give Snape their attention at last.

"Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts," he drawled. "I am your new Headmaster, Severus Snape. This year will look different than years past, as Minister Potter is determined to rectify the years of moral decay that the prior Headmaster allowed to fester. There are a number of new rules that you will all be expected to follow.

"First, there will be no discussion whatsoever of the previous Headmaster and his teachings," said Snape. "His dangerous ideologies will not be tolerated, and any show of support for him or his beliefs will be met with immediate punishment." Students began to murmur quietly amongst themselves in apparent alarm, until Snape raised his hand for quiet once more.

"Second," Snape continued, "all students will be subject to random searches and questioning as the staff sees fit. The Board of Governors has approved such measures to keep our school safe, so do not expect special treatment if you are suspected of wrongdoing. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear." Once again the students seemed alarmed by this announcement, not even bothering to whisper to one another as Snape moved right along.

"Finally, all students are now required to take Muggle Studies as a core subject," said Snape. "The Minister believes that your education on the inferior human species has been woefully inadequate thus far. If you have concerns about scheduling, speak to your Head of House at your earliest convenience.

"We also have a number of staff changes to announce," Snape went on. "Stepping in as your Muggle Studies professor is Miss Alecto Carrow." The dumpy witch stood and grinned toothily at the students. A few politely applauded for her, but the majority simply looked repulsed by the foul-looking woman.

"And acting as your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is her brother, Professor Amycus Carrow," said Snape. Amycus stood beside his sister, eyes raking over the student body hungrily, as though he could not wait to sink his teeth into them. Harry noticed how his gaze lingered on the female students, particularly in the lower years, and his stomach churned with disgust.

"I also wish to recognize our newest Head Boy and Girl," Snape concluded. "Please give a hand for Harry Potter of Ravenclaw, and Daphne Greengrass of Slytherin."

There was a smattering of applause as Harry and Daphne stood, mostly for the latter, as the majority of students pointedly avoided Harry's gaze. Harry tried to sit back down quickly, but realized that Snape was beckoning him and Daphne forward. Confused, he approached the Head Table, realizing with a jolt that there were two seats open at the end of the row, for him and Daphne.

Of course, Harry thought glumly as he approached his new seating arrangement. Voldemort doesn't want me mixing in with the other students – he wants to elevate me to a position of authority. And there was no better way of doing that than to put him on a literal pedestal with the other staff, and expected to be treated as such.

Harry took his seat, which was right beside Professor Flitwick. He turned to greet the man, but the diminutive professor averted his gaze, a look of stern disappointment on his face. It was somehow worse than the hatred McGonagall had showed him – Harry felt like he had let one of his mentors down, and it filled him with profound sadness.

The meal that followed was a more muted affair than normal. Usually the Opening Feast was filled with the sounds of excitement and laughter, as students shared stories of their summer holidays and looked forward to the term to come. But now, fear permeated the Hall, as students were well aware of the grim circumstances they and their loved ones outside the castle faced.

Harry glanced down the row, seeing his mother seated beside Snape. Lily kept her head down, eating quietly, not interacting with any of the staff around her. Everyone knew the story about her and Snape, and that she was exempted from the Muggle-born laws because of it. It must have only doubled the resentment others felt towards her, and he felt terribly for what she must be going through as a result. As loathe as he was to admit it, he hoped that Snape could help her avoid regressing back to her old ways to cope with the stress.

But the Carrow siblings were his primary concern. He wasn't worried about what Snape might do as Headmaster – the Carrows were uncommonly cruel and sadistic. He'd read about their crimes during the first war, and suffice to say, neither should have been allowed within a hundred miles of children. Harry hoped that he would be able to mitigate some of the damage they might inflict on the students, without tipping his hand as to his true motives.

As the meal drew to a close, students began to trickle out of the Hall, and Harry stood to make his way to Ravenclaw Tower. But a gruff voice called after him: "Oi, Potter, where ya goin'?"

Harry turned to see Amycus Carrow approaching, a sly grin on his face. "To my dorm," Harry said stiffly.

"But ya don' even know where it is!" Amycus said, grinning even wider. "C'mon, I'm s'posed to show ya. You too, hotlegs."

Daphne paled at the address, nervously stretching at her robes to conceal her ankles. She and Harry followed Amycus from the hall; he led them not towards any of the four common rooms, but somewhere in the center of the castle.

"Headmaster says you two is getting special priv'leges this year," said Amycus. "Your own private dorms. Must be feelin' pretty lucky."

"We aren't staying with our House mates?" Daphne asked worriedly. She and Tracey were quite close, and it was clear that she felt alone and exposed with these new arrangements. Harry was privately glad that he did not have to interact with his Ravenclaw peers any longer, but he kept that thought to himself.

"Not anymore," said Amycus. "Ah, here we are."

They arrived at a lesser-used corridor on the third floor, where a small hallway branched off to two doors standing side by side. Each bore a nameplate on it: 'H. POTTER, HEAD BOY', and 'D. GREENGRASS, HEAD GIRL'. Harry pushed his door open; it led to a single suite, complete with a bed, desk, dresser, and adjacent bathroom. Daphne's room next door appeared to be identical.

"Not too shabby, eh?" Amycus whistled. "I'm jealous – even my bathroom ain't this nice. I might 'ave to come share a shower sometime." His eyes flitted up and down Daphne's body as he said this.

"We'll be going to bed now," Harry said sharply. "You can leave now."

Amycus rounded on Harry. "Now, that's no way to respect your superiors," he said accusingly.

"And who said I respected you?" Harry shot back, not backing down from Amycus' blustering. "Respect has to be earned, not demanded, and I don't respect the way you're talking to Daphne."

"Harry, it's fine," Daphne hissed, clearly uncomfortable. But Amycus paid her no mind.

"I'd watch your tone, boy," Amycus snarled in Harry's face. "You might be the Dark Lord's special project, but I'm still your professor."

"Actually, you're not," Harry corrected. "I'm not taking Defense this year. And if you take issue with how I talk to you, I suggest going to the Headmaster, because I'm not playing your games."

Amycus glared dangerously at Harry. For a brief moment, Harry worried that they were about to duel. But then, Amycus laughed, a raspy, unpleasant sound.

"This is gonna be a fun year," he said. "I look forward to breaking you. Night, Potter. Night, hotlegs." And Amycus departed, leaving Harry and Daphne alone in the hallway. Harry gave Daphne a reassuring nod before shutting himself in his new quarters.

Maybe it was a mistake to antagonize Amycus Carrow so early. Harry knew he could hold his own against the man, but what if he decided to take it out on Dahlia or Damian instead? But he also refused to let such innuendos slide, knowing that they were only a precursor to more aggressive and heinous actions in the future. He knew what Amycus was capable of, and if he laid a finger on any of his classmates, there would be hell to pay.

Harry began to unpack his trunk, which had already been delivered to his dorm. He felt his diary buzzing when he pulled it out, which meant there was a message waiting for him from Fleur. He sat at the desk and opened it to read:

How was your first day back? Any problems with the other students so far?

Harry grabbed a quill and ink bottle to respond:

Could be better, could be worse. The students are terrified of me. I don't think I need to worry about any of them. The new Defense professor is a real piece of work, though...a sadistic Death Eater named Carrow. I have a bad feeling he is going to cause the most problems for me this term, and his sister isn't much better. Have you had any more issues with your coworkers?

Harry returned to unpacking for a few minutes, and by the time he checked his desk again, there was another message waiting from Fleur.

No, I have gotten some nasty looks at work but no more incidents like last week. I have begun Apparating directly from the bank to Raven House, just to be safe. You do not need to worry about me.

Of course I have to worry, Harry penned back. You're being assaulted for who you are. What if something even worse happens in the future?

Then I will fight back, Fleur wrote almost at once. I am not afraid to get my hands dirty in this war. You have not seen all that Veela can do in combat – when backed into a corner, we can cause a lot of damage.

Good to know, wrote Harry. Still, do try not to find yourself in any corners, will you?

Wow, thank you, I didn't think of that, wrote Fleur, and Harry could practically feel the irritation through her handwriting. But just seconds later, she added: I am sorry. I know you are just trying to keep me safe.

Harry chuckled to himself...he knew Fleur was a prideful person, something he found endearing about her. Sorry for being overbearing, he wrote. I just hate the thought of my loved ones getting hurt.

You count me as a 'loved one', then? Fleur wrote back. I am flattered.

Harry hesitated before responding. He hadn't thought much before referring to Fleur as such. But as he thought about it, he did feel similarly about Fleur as he did his family members. She was his closest friend – perhaps even more than a friend. But had he overstepped his bounds? Would she read too much into the label?

But Fleur continued on before he could reply: Only teasing, of course. Good night, Harry.

Good night, Fleur.

Harry closed the diary and shut it in a desk drawer, which he warded so that only he could open it. He got into bed and tried to empty his mind for sleep, already dreading what tomorrow would bring. It was clear that his seventh year at Hogwarts would be his toughest and most contentious yet. But it was comforting to know that he still had the support of the people he cared most about.