Whoever's bright idea it had been to get the Knight Bus back to school, Harry wanted to hex them. Why they couldn't just get the train like all the other students he had no idea; just because they'd left under unusual circumstances, didn't mean they had to return in them.
But thankfully, none of them lost their breakfast — which was more than Harry could say for some other passengers of the bus — and with Tonks and Remus chaperoning, they all made it back to school in one piece. Harry hugged Remus tightly at the school gates.
"Stay out of trouble," Remus said, and Harry laughed.
"Funny joke, Moony," he teased, making the werewolf roll his eyes.
"Stay out of excessive trouble."
That still seemed like a tall order for Harry, but he didn't argue, allowing Tonks to bundle him in a hug and ruffle his hair. "See you, kid," she said cheerily. "Have a good term. Give old Umbridge hell for me."
"I'll do my best," Harry replied. "See you in summer!" Unless something drastic happened, he wouldn't be leaving the castle for Easter break. He had far too much studying to do for that.
The five of them traipsed up towards the castle, dread falling on them like a curtain as the imposing building came into view. "Let's see what the damage is, then, boys and girls," Fred sighed, pushing open the doors.
Luckily, they avoided just about everyone up until they reached Gryffindor Tower. And there, the only people who were curious about why they had left were those who were just happy to see them back. Fred dipped Angelina in a showy, overdramatic kiss in the middle of the common room, while George mimed retching behind them both.
"Alright, Harry. Ginny," Neville greeted, waving cheerily. Harry glanced at Ginny, wondering if she'd written Neville that letter, or was planning on doing it in person. From the wooden smile on her face, Harry was betting the latter.
"Hey, Nev. How was the rest of your holidays?"
"Yeah, great. Hey, look — Gran got me a new wand!" The blond boy showed it off eagerly. "She said with the way things were going at school, I might end up in a fight, and she didn't want me to damage Dad's." Not quite what Harry had said to her, but the result was the same. At last, Neville had a wand suited to his magic.
As much as Harry wanted to grab his cloak and map and hunt down Draco, he had missed his friends — and he didn't want to be suspicious. So he happily let Neville regale him with the goings on of his greenhouse at home; and then, when she arrived, of Parvati's Christmas in India with her family. She spoke about places over there with confidence that she would one day be able to show Harry too, and his heart ached with longing. The Educational Decree that Susan had written to him about seemed to be the only new one that had appeared over the holidays. Harry wondered how long it would take for the next one — surely Umbridge was running out of things to ban?
The day was surprisingly relaxed, right up until dinner, when Harry entered the Great Hall and immediately saw Umbridge glaring at him with that too-sweet smile on her face. He didn't react, heading straight for the Gryffindor table. Her ban of mixing houses at mealtimes was still in place, but all that meant by now was that students ate as quickly as possible and then went elsewhere to socialise.
Across the hall, Harry caught Blaise Zabini's intent stare. He nodded discreetly; he had got the message.
Sure enough, the Slytherin appeared at Harry's side when he was walking away from the Great Hall, and the pair surreptitiously ducked into an alcove, warding it.
"What's the problem?" Harry asked, concern colouring his tone.
"A lot of the neutral Slytherin families were approached over Christmas break. Some Ravenclaws, too," Blaise explained, voice low. "They aren't likely to be allowed to remain neutral for long."
Harry's stomach sank. "How many?"
"At least eight that I know of. Plus Theo — he's not neutral, but he needs an out." Then, Blaise's lips turned down. "I've got a few more in his boat, as well. Though not many are brave enough to come to me. Their parents have them pretty well locked down."
It made Harry's heart ache, to think of how many teenagers would end up with that foul brand on their arm just because they weren't in a position to say no. How many already had?
"Right. But no one needs it more urgently than summer?"
"I don't think so," Blaise assured.
"Good. I'm working on something right now. It should be ready in time." He hadn't heard back from Farlig yet, but he'd told the goblin to send future correspondance through Bill, so it would take a little longer to get a response. "Just… tell them to hold off for as long as they can."
The Slytherin smirked ruefully. "That's been the plan thus far." He reached out, clasping Harry's arm. "We appreciate this, Harry. Truly. No one wants to be in Dumbledore's debt for their own safety."
"They won't be in mine, either," Harry insisted. "Sanctuary is offered freely. As long as they don't intentionally bring Voldemort to the doors, they're welcome."
Blaise shook his head, like he couldn't quite believe it. "The wizarding world isn't ready for you, Potter."
Harry laughed, grinning. "Me? Scrap that — they're not ready for Susan."
Blaise nodded emphatically. "Too true. Hey, by the way, Draco wanted to talk to you when you got back. Said to meet in your usual fourth floor spot, once you're done talking to me." The Italian boy smirked. "You two have a usual spot?"
Harry hoped desperately he wasn't blushing. "Not like we can chat in class, is it?" He retorted. "And Draco can't even come to HA." Those defence sessions were becoming the only time people could actually relax and let down their guard a little, safe in the magic of the contract.
"Fair. I'll leave you to it, then."
Harry dropped his ward, and Blaise left first. Harry slipped on his invisibility cloak before he stepped out into the corridor, heading straight for the fourth floor classroom in which they had once broken a chair. A familiar head of blond hair was waiting for him — Harry beamed, dropping his cloak and hurrying over. "Hey. Blaise said you'd be here."
"Good." Draco tugged him down imperiously, until they were both sat on the floor. "You've got some nerve, you know. Telling me you love me and then leaving school in the middle of the night." But he was smiling, and Harry grinned back, leaning in.
"I still love you," he promised, watching Draco's cheeks flush with delight.
"You'd better."
Harry took his hand, threading their fingers together. "How was Christmas in the castle?"
"Much the same as it always is. Mother sends her best, by the way."
"Have you seen her?" Harry went wide-eyed, but Draco shook his head.
"No, but she managed to write without Father over her shoulder. A rare thing, these days." His smile dropped. Harry squeezed his hand sympathetically. "I spent most of Christmas Day in Uncle Sev's rooms. It was nice, though a bit strange not doing Yule rituals with Mother. Blissfully Umbridge-free, at least, unlike the rest of the bloody school." They both scowled, then Draco kissed Harry's temple. "Oh, that reminds me — Uncle Severus gave me the animagus potion for Christmas."
Harry sat bolt upright. "He never said!" He turned eager green eyes on his boyfriend. "Did you find your form? What is it?"
"I'm a snowy owl," Draco replied proudly. Harry beamed at him.
"Brilliant!" A powerful hunter, prideful to the point of being a little bit vain — and an animal Harry happened to have an enormous soft spot for. Perfect for Draco. "You and Hedwig can fly together."
"We can, and I can pick your little fox self up in my claws and drop you at the top of a tree, because apparently you made your transformation and didn't tell me," Draco said, giving him a hard stare. Harry gulped.
"I wanted Sirius and Remus to be the first to know. And, uh, then I forgot," he admitted sheepishly. Draco huffed.
"Forgot? Honestly, Potter," he sighed in mock-annoyance. "Disaster of a wizard." A pause, and then an expectant look. "Go on. Show me!"
"Oh." Harry concentrated, and then he was a fox beside Draco.
"Ohh," Draco cooed, grey eyes filling with delight. "Aren't you beautiful." Harry preened, and quickly arched up under Draco's hand, begging the boy to pet him. They spent a fun five minutes or so with Harry flopping around in Draco's lap, letting the boy scratch the soft white fur on his belly, before Harry decided he wanted to kiss Draco properly, and became human once more so he could.
"You might be a disaster, but you're a bloody talented one," Draco told him, smoothing Harry's mussed hair. Harry shrugged, bashful.
"You'll get yours before sixth year, I bet." The Slytherin didn't look so convinced, and smoothly changed the subject.
"Well, my OWLS have to come first — we can't all do eight things at once on top of studying for exams. How was your holiday, anyway? Despite the eventful start. Please tell me you actually rested for more than five minutes."
Harry had written the important parts to Draco already, but it was nice getting to sit and tell him about the more mundane events of his break. Draco's fingers began carding through his hair while he spoke, and Harry's eyes went half-lidded with pleasure. "Well, I'm glad you managed to get some quiet in that madhouse," Draco remarked. "Slytherin house was more full than ever. Seems I'm not the only one who didn't fancy heading home for Yule."
"But you're the only one with Voldemort in your house," Harry pointed out. Draco's pale lips became a thin line.
"Perhaps, but his reach is extending ever further. Rumour has it, he wants to start marking everyone once they turn seventeen. If not sooner."
Fear gripped Harry's throat. "Cassius?"
"Went to his secret boyfriend's for the holidays," Draco assured. "His family had no idea. He's got them convinced he can't be marked because he's going to infiltrate the Ministry when he graduates, but considering the Dark Lord is talking about taking over the Ministry in due time… I don't know how long that will last."
Harry made a mental note to speak to the Slytherin. He needed sanctuary perhaps as much as Theo did — more, if Harry's suspicion about the seventh year's mysterious boyfriend was correct. His father would kill him if he found out.
"I've told Blaise I'll have a safehouse ready by summer," he said. "I'm going to see if there's a Potter property I can use. The goblins can't legally give me the deed 'til I'm of age, but if I can find it, I can take on the blood wards without technically owning the place."
"So your idea of sanctuary is squatting in your own ancestral home?" Draco drawled. Harry snorted.
"Well, when you put it that way… any better ideas?"
Sadly, Draco was all out.
"If needs must, I'll have Sirius kick the Order out of his house and we can use that instead," Harry said with a shrug.
"You're so sure you'll be on the outs with Dumbledore by the end of the year?"
"The only reason he hasn't figured me out is that he thinks I've got Voldemort in my head," Harry retorted. "Once he gets over that fear, it's all over." He was fairly confident that there were no major moves Dumbledore could make against him without drawing the ire of the wizarding world — not yet, anyway — so he didn't mind the man discovering Harry had lost the blocks on his magic. He had a bigger secret, now; Voldemort's horcruxes. Particularly, the one in his scar.
"At least that will mean he can't try and send you back to those muggles in the summer," Draco muttered. "Or to the Weasleys. You can actually go home."
"He couldn't send me to the Dursleys even I wanted him to," Harry revealed, a bitter smile crossing his lips. "They've moved away. Not sure where to." The information had come from Kingsley — who, unbeknownst to Harry, had been monitoring the Dursleys ever since the dementor attack. Apparently they couldn't cope with living in a house surrounded by memories of Dudley; in late October they'd packed up, and never looked back. The blood wards around the house were shattered.
"Good riddance," Draco said. He let out an exaggerated sigh, shifting Harry out of his slump against the blond's shoulder. "Now, enough of these depressing topics. It's been an awfully lonely three weeks without you." His grey eyes darkened.
Harry reached out eagerly, pulse picking up. It had been very lonely indeed.
.-.-.
Six o'clock on Monday evening found Harry headed down to the dungeons, for once not covered by his invisibility cloak. Only Draco knew the truth of the matter; even Neville, usually privy to Harry's secrets, believed he was headed for Remedial Potions lessons. He and plenty of others knew Harry already knew Occlumency; to have them aware that Snape was supposed to be teaching it to him would prompt them to consider where the Potions Master's loyalties truly lay.
"Come in," Snape called curtly, when Harry knocked on the door. The office looked as it always did — but for the exception of a softly glowing bowl of silver liquid on the desk.
"Why do you have a pensieve?" Harry asked curiously. Snape warded the door for privacy, and glanced at the stone basin.
"Albus thought it might be necessary, for me to hide important memories. In case your Occlumency training should go awry."
Harry wasn't sure how things would go so awry that he would end up in Snape's own mind, but stranger things had happened. "That was generous of him. Don't suppose he left anything useful in it?"
Snape smirked briefly. "Sadly not. Now, I'm sure we can both agree that the last thing you are in need of is more Occlumency tutelage. Anything further would take you into the realm of falsifying your own memories, which, while potentially useful, is not a skill you necessarily need right now. The Dark Lord is very likely aware of the connection between you now, but I have faith in your current abilities to keep him out of your side of the connection." He leant against the edge of the desk, long legs stretched out. "With that in mind, I thought it best to use these lessons to continue our studies from the summer. Far be it from me to deny a perfect opportunity when it arises."
He was right — if Dumbledore expected Harry to be with Snape for the next few hours, it was an excellent time for Harry to get in some duelling practice. Harry looked around the office skeptically, eyes lingering on the shelves covered in jars of strange liquids. "This isn't really the best place for it."
"I was hoping you might be able to help with that. Come here." Snape walked to the back wall of the office, and pointed at the stone. Harry stepped closer, confused — then he noticed the tiny snake engraved in the grey slab. He smirked.
"You just want to go back to the Chamber," he accused lightly, and Snape's eyes narrowed.
"If you would prefer I have you sit here and read about the spells I wish to teach you, you are very welcome to," he drawled. Harry snorted.
"No, thank you." He paused, concern brewing. "Will Dumbledore not expect you to give him some kind of report on my progress?"
"And I shall. If he requests visual proof, I am an expert at falsifying my own memories," Snape said matter-of-factly. "But, to be blunt, I believe Albus is expecting these lessons to be a complete and utter disaster, in which I shall discover all the secrets hidden in that thick skull of yours, and you shall be even more convinced that I am evil incarnate." His eyes flashed with amusement. "I will feed him some lies about your mind being full of little else but exam worries and boys, and make my disgust at having to sift through such things very clear."
Harry shot the man an indignant look. "Hey, I could have more going on than that!" He thought about it for a second; Dumbledore was certainly expecting a lot more than that, after his vision of Mr Weasley. Harry doubted the headmaster would believe that Harry had any kind of natural talent in Occlumency… they would have to give the man something good. "Tell him about the corridor dreams."
"Pardon?"
"The dreams Voldemort keeps sending me, of that corridor in the Department of Mysteries. Tell him you saw those in my head. It'll make him think he's right, at least about Voldemort trying to influence me through our connection." If Dumbledore was busy patting himself on the back, he wouldn't look much further. "If you don't give him anything he can use, he'll start to suspect both of us."
A sudden realisation hit him, making his blood turn cold. "If he realises I know about the magic blocks and you aren't the one to tell him, he'll know you're not loyal to him."
On the contrary, Snape didn't look concerned. "He cannot expect me to seek out every last secret in your mind without making you a vegetable. Considering he currently believes you shed his incredibly powerful compulsion charms from sheer stubbornness, I do not think it will surprise him to find that you are equally stubborn enough to force me away from your deepest, darkest secrets." Then he gave an almost predatory sneer. "I have been serving two masters for long enough to know how to manipulate the truth for my own benefit. Trust me, Potter; I will be fine." Then he snorted derisively. "Though if you decide to remove Albus as permanently as you will the Dark Lord, that would make my life easier."
Harry couldn't say he hadn't thought about it. "If I kill him, people will declare me the next Dark Lord before his body's even cold. And if it looks like an accident, he'll be martyred." He smirked sharply. "I plan to publicly disgrace him before he can even think about toddling off on his 'next great adventure'."
"Then you had best be prepared to deal with the Dark Lord as soon as possible," Snape returned. Then he tapped the wall pointedly. "Come; we're wasting valuable time. We can discuss these plans further while we duel — it'll be good for you to practice multi-tasking."
There was a vindictive look on Snape's face that made Harry's heart sink in trepidation, even as he obediently hissed at the snake to open a passage.
He was going to be so very sore in the morning.
.-.-.
Harry dragged himself back up to Gryffindor Tower an hour past curfew, his duelling injuries healed but his muscles still sore from use — working with the HA was nowhere near as gruelling as working with Snape, and after a lazy Christmas Harry was woefully out of shape.
Still, it had been a productive session — between dodging curses and flinging back his own, Harry had managed to talk more freely to Snape than he had since the summer; about Dumbledore's plans, and Voldemort's, and how much they knew about Harry. From the sounds of things, both were quietly trying to gather their armies in preparation for what was to come — to both of them, Harry was practically an afterthought, just a pawn to shift into the right place when the time came.
As long as they both believed that, Harry could do some army-gathering of his own.
He looked appropriately downtrodden as he made his way to his dormitory, cementing the idea for any onlookers that he'd just had a private Potions lesson with Snape and hated every second of it. He had another on Wednesday — as if there weren't enough things filling his evenings, these days.
But they were all necessary, and he wouldn't turn down the opportunity to learn from Snape right under the headmaster's nose. So with that in mind, Harry readied himself for bed, already thinking about when the next HA meeting could be squeezed in.
Just as he was about to pull back his duvet, Harry was hit by a wave of pain in his scar — followed by an overwhelming feeling of pure happiness. Triumph filled his chest, a maniacal laugh ringing in his ears. Something truly excellent had happened!
"HARRY!" He heard the call through the fuzz of pain and joy, felt a sharp prod of magic like an electric shock running through him. The laughter cut off abruptly, making him realise it was coming from his own throat. He pushed past the fire in his scar to open his eyes, seeing Neville watching him in concern. Luckily, none of the other boys in the dormitory were present. His friend's eyes were intent, and as Harry sucked in a sharp breath, a cold fear flooded his veins.
"He's happy," he rasped, watching the horror dawn on Neville's features. "He's so happy."
"What happened?" Neville pressed, but Harry shook his head.
"No idea." His scar was still prickling, and he ran a hand through his hair, grimacing. Something had happened, something Voldemort was very pleased about. That was an incredibly worrying prospect. "I need to talk to Sirius."
"Won't a letter take too long?" Of course, Neville didn't know about the two-way mirror. Well, that was one secret he was happy to share with his friend.
"Don't need to write." Harry scrambled for his bedside drawer, pulling out the hand mirror. When he sat on his bed, he wasn't surprised when Neville immediately joined him. Worried about the other boys intruding, Harry drew his drapes with a flick of his wand and raised a silencing ward. "Sirius Black."
The mirror went fuzzy for a second, and then Sirius' face materialised in the glass. He looked grim. "Pup. Now's not the best time."
"Something has happened," Harry said urgently. "I just got this massive hit of… happiness. Something has happened that Voldemort is really pleased about. You need to be careful—" He stopped abruptly when Sirius' frown became more pronounced.
"It's too late for that, pup," the animagus said. Harry's heart leapt to his throat — it had to be bad, to make Sirius look like that. "Tonks just sent a message; the auror department is a madhouse right now. There was a mass breakout at Azkaban."
Harry looked up at Neville, just in time to see the blood drain from his friend's face.
"Yeah," Harry said weakly, hating that the joy was still simmering in the back of his mind. "That'll do it."
Gathering armies, indeed.
.-.-.-.
The news was all over the front page of the Daily Prophet the next morning. Ten pictures; ten Death Eaters who were at large once more. The sight of all three Lestranges staring up at Harry made his jaw clench, and he looked sideways at Neville. The boy had been ashen-faced since he'd heard the news, and Harry had noticed the Silencing charm around his bed that night. From the dark circles under his eyes, Harry would bet that Neville's sleep had been more nightmare-plagued than his own.
On the blond's other side was Ginny, her hand wrapped tightly around Neville's. "I'm so sorry," she breathed, voice cracking. "Neville, fuck, I… I'm so sorry."
Neville gave a tiny shrug, mechanically eating his toast. Harry pressed his shoulder to his friend's in quiet sympathy. What else could he do? There was nothing to say to make the situation any better.
Neville wasn't the only one hit hard by the news. At the Hufflepuff table, Susan was squeezed tight between Ernie and Hannah, who were hiding her from view and had been since she'd burst into tears at the sight of the men who had tortured and killed every member of her family barring her Aunt Amelia. The Hufflepuffs around them were quiet, sharing worried looks between them.
Reading the full article just made anger flare in Harry's gut — Fudge was blaming the break-out on Sirius.
Luckily, he wasn't the only one who realised how utterly ridiculous that was.
"If Black was going to break everyone out, surely he'd have done it when he got loose," he heard from the Ravenclaw table behind him. "You-Know-Who has the dementors, I'm telling you," someone else from further up the Gryffindor table declared. "It's been obvious ever since one of them got Potter's cousin. Fudge just can't admit he fucked up that badly."
Harry hated how flippantly Dudley's death was being bandied about the hall, but if it was helping people realise the truth about the Ministry's incompetence, he couldn't argue against it. It was something Fudge couldn't deny, not after how quickly the news had spread around school — and back to the parents, Harry would bet.
More than one person was murmuring about Fudge needing to be sacked, and up at the head table Umbridge had a white-knuckled grip on her knife and fork. Harry was surprised she wasn't trying to take house points for the blatant defamation of her beloved Minister; perhaps she realised she didn't have a good argument against the truth, this time.
Wishing he could do something to stop the tremors he could feel running through Neville's body, Harry turned to look at the rest of the school, stomach clenching at the sight of so many fearful, horrified faces. Even the Slytherin table wasn't immune to it — while there were some poorly-hidden expressions of triumph, there were just as many who looked like they might be ill. Several of the children Harry knew to have Death Eater parents were among them; did they know, what now awaited them when they left school? Did they expect these Azkaban escapees to be waiting for them, ready to welcome them into the fold?
His gaze landed on Draco, who was making a valiant effort at pretending to be unaffected; pleased, even. But Harry could see the faint shake of his hand, the terror in his eyes.
He knew they were all very likely at his home, now. He knew that Bellatrix Lestrange would be delighted to see her little sister again.
Harry forced himself to look away, before he did something stupid. He let his eyes trail over the other Slytherins; Blaise and Daphne had their heads down, huddled together with some fourth years. Pansy was halfheartedly picking at a bowl of fruit, while beside her Tracey Davis was actually laughing at something, trying to get the attention of Theodore Nott — who, oddly enough, was looking over at the Hufflepuff table. At Susan.
Susan had mentioned spending time with him over Christmas, catching him up on all the heirs' plans. Maybe they were friends, now. "Have you seen the rest of it?" Ginny asked suddenly, making Harry's heart sink. There was more??
Ginny flipped the pages of the paper, showing him a smaller article — practically hidden amongst the extended coverage of the escapees and their crimes. 'Tragic Demise of Ministry of Magic Worker'. Apparently some man named Bode had been sent a Devil's Snare disguised as a pot plant to his bed in St Mungo's, and it had killed him.
"I've heard Dad talk about him before," Ginny murmured quietly. "He works in the Department of Mysteries."
Harry tensed, and felt Neville do the same beside him. A blatant assassination — no one sent Devil's Snare by accident — of an Unspeakable, who was already in the hospital in suspect circumstances? That couldn't be anything good.
A bell rang, and half the hall jumped — in light of the news, most of them seemed to have forgotten they had classes to go to.
The absolute last thing Harry wanted to do right then was go and listen to Binns drone on for forty-five minutes. But life went on; there was nothing they could do about the break-out from within the school.
"Come on, Nev," he murmured, gently urging the boy into a standing position. He grabbed a banana off the table, slipping it into his pocket; Neville hadn't been able to eat anything, but he would get too hungry to ignore it eventually.
Ginny looked like she was considering ditching her own classes to stick with Neville, but after a pointed look from Harry she gave the blond boy's hand one last squeeze, then hurried to catch up with Colin.
It was somewhat novel for Harry, to hear the school full of whispers that weren't necessarily about him. If it weren't such an awful situation, he might have enjoyed it. As it was, there was nothing to enjoy about this. Voldemort had ten of his most loyal supporters back in his ranks.
Harry's time was running out.