“All students who will be staying at the school over the Holiday will need to sign the list at the front of the school.” Professor Demival’s NEWT level Defense Against the Dark Arts class listened to her announcement, and then spun as a single unit to watch Harry Potter’s reaction. He smirked, and gave no other signal of emotion. For the last few days, particularly since he helped the Whomping Willow, he had felt rejuvenated, in spite of his workload.

It was ridiculous; the world seemed to hate him more than ever, but “La Vie en Rose” had been stuck in Harry’s head, and it was having a drastic effect. The acerbic articles authored by Rita left him in tears of laughter instead of weeping in depression. His nocturnal missions were often speckled with pranks worthy of the Marauders. Several times he had cast tripping charms just to watch the Death Eater land face first in a puddle of muddy muck. He had to hope that none of them recognized his laugh. Draco might, but the others, adults, had never heard him before. Only the night before Harry had announced himself by transfiguring all of their ominous black robes into floral sundresses. His life had been immediately at risk; he was barely able to fight, he was laughing so hard.

Somehow, his lackadaisical approach had kept him out of harm. He had avoided injury ever since La Vie en Rose had been set to repeat.

Class was released, and he practically skipped out of the room, heading for the Great Hall. The ability to clear an entire table with his mere presence was another of his joys.

Tomorrow was Friday, and the last day before Christmas Break. The students were antsy, but Draco and Severus concurred that the Death Eaters were even worse. Harry gathered a few handfuls of easily transportable food, deciding to forgo one pleasure for another. A walk in the snow sounded more entertaining than terrifying his housemates.

The temporary lull in the frigid weather had ended, and Harry was desperately excited. He jogged up to the Gryffindor common room, where he had dramatically reclaimed his bed, and shouted for Cleo. A puffed ball of white fur flew at his face.

“How do you jump so high, girl?” He asked as he placed her on his shoulder. She mewed and licked his cheek. Laughing, he made his way downstairs and outside.

Instantly Cleo bounded into a snowdrift, beginning to play. She practically vanished in the snow. Harry began to walk around the lake, Cleo following along whenever she looked up and realized that Harry was far ahead of her. When he was at the farthest reach of the lake, he heard a soft flapping and looked up.

Hedwig had left the day before to deliver a message to Cynaephyra Alstance, and he had not expected her back so soon. His owl alighted on a nearby branch, hooting fondly.

Harry retrieved the letter and leaned against the tree, accidentally shaking more snow into his hair.

Dear Sir,

I cannot thank you enough for your generous aid, and although I wish you did not desire anonymity, but I can understand, and I will honor your wish. I am now fully situated in St. Mungo’s, where I have wonderful support from their staff. Also they have given me full access to the ward, and I hope to begin initial tests soon.

I have spent the most time with the Longbottoms’ case as you requested. It will be exceedingly difficult, but I feel that there may be hope.

At this time I can tell you little more, but I hope to write with successful results before Christmas. Is there any way for me to contact you apart from returning your owl?

Harry flinched at that. He could not allow her to use any owl but his. Hedwig had been carefully warded against tracking, but he had no faith in any other owl.

If there is no other way sir, please send your owl back to me on Boxing Day so that I may update you. You asked about my theories, and as the reason why I can continue to work, you are entitled to an answer. The foundation of my theory is that the Cruciatius Curse degrades the brain itself. Pain overloads the mind first, which makes it incapable of shutting down. From that point on, chemicals build up, literally dissolving pieces of the mind necessary to action. Since Legilemency has shown that there are no brain functions or thoughts present in the minds of the victims, it is assumed that they are in a persistent vegetative state. However, the usual signs of that condition are not present. This is where my beliefs are founded. I believe that prolonged exposure to Cruciatius puts the mind into stasis which was, previously, irreparable. If my treatment functions the way I believe it will, it may be possible to restart the victims’ minds.

Again, thank you for your generosity, and I will await the return of your owl.

-Cynaephyra Alstance

Harry nodded, folding the letter and placing it in his pocket. He would do more research tonight, but her ideas were sound. If she was right, then there was hope for many of the Lestranges’ victims.

As he was lost in thought, Cleo scampered up his leg, clawing her way over his chest and back to her regular perch. She made a little purr, wrought with fear, and dug her tiny nails into his neck.

Glancing around, and sensing a presence at the same time, he found four of the Weasleys descending on brooms.

Fred and George were both carrying large cloth bags with three Ws stitched on the front. Their robes were gaudy, obnoxious, virulent orange, and perfect for the twins. Charlie had one arm bandaged and bore a small scar on the side of his face next to a grim frown. Bill was wearing leather beneath his black robe, and had black streaks and tips in his long hair.

Mrs. Weasley must have had a fit. Harry chuckled. “Hello Weasleys. Come to attack me? Maybe to avenge the rights of the Wizarding world? Or perhaps you just had a bad day and want to hit me with heavy objects?” They began to protest, but Harry’s mental cd play was still playing, and he continued, “You work for the Ministry and are here to take me to Azkaban? Did your mother send you? Did Ron? Did your girlfriends?”

“No, on all counts, Potter.” Charlie said, still frowning. The Dragon fanatic stuck his hand into his robes, and Harry had his entire entourage surrounded by a shield without a thought. La Vie had paused.

“Then why are you here?”

“We aren’t here to hurt you—”

“—Harry. We just thought that you might—”

“—want to hear what we recently decided.”

“After all—”

“—you are—”

“—our favorite—”

“—investor.”

The twins smiled, then tipped imaginary hats to him. With a flourish, they revealed their wands, tossing them through the shield to Harry. Bill and Charlie copied the action.

“We’ll see you at seven Harry.” Bill said, his face more akin to the twins than to Charlie’s.

“We have—”

“—wonderful rooms at a local—”

“—place, one that you know quite well.”

“It was—”

“—the marauders’—”

“—favorite.”

Harry nodded, and they walked away.

>====<

At seven that night, the Weasley boys found Harry standing in the den of the Shrieking Shack casting charms to keep the place warmer.

“Having a nice time there Harry?” Bill asked. “You’re doing marvelously, but I would recommend…there, that’s better.” He waved his wand casually, and the room’s temperature rose to a comfortable sixty-five. “I hope that you trust us enough to return our wands, apparating without one isn’t something I’d like to do again.”

“Can I?” Harry asked unceremoniously.

“Yes, you can.” All four of them assured.

“Even him?” Harry nodded at Charlie.

The twins began to laugh, then roared. Bill explained. “We were at the twin’s flat this morning, and Charlie, in a moment of idiocy, picked up a piece of candy. Livid Lemons, they’re called. Inspired by the Headmaster’s favorite. He’s been frowning ever since, it should finish soon. Twelve hour time span you see. He ate it at just before eight, so we’re closer at least.”

As Bill had explained, Harry had held a small silver sphere that warmed when lies were told. It was only reliable for a select few, but the Weasleys were on that list. With a chuckle of his own, he gestured to the couch and chairs he had added earlier.

The group sat, and Harry waited for them to explain.

Bill cast a threatening glance to the twins, and started. “Harry, a few days ago the four of us had met up for a late meal at my flat in London. Fleur was visiting her sister, so we were alone. None of us have ever really swallowed all this tripe that Rita and the Ministry turn out, but so long as Dumbledore distrusted you, we had no reason to support you. You’re history is a bit sketchy, Harry. For the last few weeks we had really started to doubt the reports, and had actually gotten together so we could look at what was happening. I expected that by the time the night was over we would have started to agree with Mum and Dad again, but then, suddenly, all of us just stopped talking, which was quite a feat since the twins were both there.

“It was just odd Harry, one minute we were explaining why you were this evil Death Eater, and then next we were wondering why we had ever even considered that you would betray us. Something just snapped. We stayed up all night going over old newspapers and Ministry records. Well, what I’m trying to say is this: We believe you mate.”

Harry sat in silence, meeting their eyes and using his small knowledge of Legilemency to check. They were telling the truth. Blinking, Harry allowed himself a brief inner monologue.

Dad, what am I supposed to do? Last time I trusted someone I got hurt. Everyone betrayed me, and the people that were close to me got hurt. Can I do that again Dad? It’s too easy for them to hurt me if I let them near me. Sirius, Merlin I wish you were here, what do I do now? Never antagonize an ally, I suppose. They’re all highly ranked in the Order, and the twins are two of the brightest wizards in the world. Harry stared at them for a moment. They were about to speak, and he held up a hand to delay them. If I’m careful—if they’re careful—it might work. Someone might care.

Draco’s voice echoed in his mind. “If I can find someone who you do care about will you fight?”

“There isn’t anyone.”

“But if there was, would you fight?”

“I would fight with every fiber of my being if I knew that there was even one person who cared what happened to me.”

Harry smiled slowly, and it transformed into a smirk. “You four best not get yourselves killed. You’ve seen me angry, and I’d hate to make Percy the heir of the Weasley family.” Bill and Charlie shared a look of abject terror at the thought.

“You believe us?” The twins asked together.

“Yes.”

“Good. You get a present for that.”

“A what?” Between La Vie en Rose, his good mood and the declaration of support, Harry had already been having a very interesting day, and was afraid to question the situation too deeply, fearing that the bubble would burst.

“A present. Several presents actually.” Fred opened his bag first. “The first few are a bit sentimental, but you might appreciate them.” He pulled out a long, narrow box. “This is a box.”

“Really? I’d never have guessed.”

“Very funny mate, now let me finish. This is a box we found in the attic at Grimauld place. Mum found out something we wish she hadn’t, and we ended up cleaning the entire house. There were quite a few useful things up there actually, but this is the one you want. Somehow Sirius got a hold of your parents’ wands and put there in here. We stole his and added it too. We aren’t sure, but you should be able to use either of your parents’. Even if you can’t you might like them.” Harry carefully accepted them, setting them in his lap.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was fun for us too, we got to steal things.” Fred said cheerily.

George nodded and said, “My half isn’t as nice. We give to you, our young apprentice, four portable swamps, and three bottles of instant fog. They should allow you to have a bit more fun while you’re trapped here. Also, we—well, Charlie—found a book on alternate forms of magic. This volume is dedicated to wandless and two-wanded magic. It’s quite fun, but you’re powerful enough to make it useful as well as entertaining. Now that you have four wands you could pull some rather spectacular pranks.” George grinned.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Charlie will show you a few things later, once he cheers up.” Bill offered.

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“Don’t speak to me, you worthless excuse for a human being.” Harry jerked back.

Bill laughed, checking his watch, “Good. It’s starting to wear off. That was nothing compared to this morning’s insults, Harry. Be glad that your manliness wasn’t likened to a Hufflepuff first year in a thunderstorm.” Harry raised an eyebrow, confused. “Nothing but magic can make them stand up.” Bill continued.

The four boys laughed while Charlie watched, and they proceeded to waste the evening in old stories, small pranks, food and drink. The twins disappeared for half an hour, returning with carry out, all the way from London. Apparation had many uses.

Since they never started to explain the new wand techniques, Harry and Charlie planned to meet up again on Saturday night.

“It’s rather sad that neither of these upstanding gentlemen have anything better to do than train on a Saturday evening.” Fred said sadly to George.

“Oh yes,” George agreed, “Quite, but not everyone can be as wonderful as we can.”

“No, that would upset that balance of the universe.”

“Too much of a good thing—”

“—is a bad thing, after all.”

Harry threw their own wands at them, and Bill abruptly shouted.

“What?”

“We have to go. Order Meeting.” A chorus of obscenities hovered in the room as they gathered their things. “We’ll talk soon Harry, but we’re already late.”

Four loud cracks sounded, and Harry was alone. He stowed his presents in the Shack, pulled on his father’s cloak, and began the icy trek back to the castle.

>====<

A light snow still drifted in the air that Saturday, whipping around corners silently. It created small drifts at the corners of the school, and tormented the Whomping Willow. The train had rolled away that morning, creating an image capable of inspiring Norman Rockwell. The peace extended over the Forbidden Forest and into Hogsmeade. It even succeeded in covering the Shrieking Shack, where Harry and Charlie were training.

“Bloody Hell, Harry. That hurt!”

“Sorry Charlie.”

“At least you’re learning.”

Harry chuckled. He had decided to avoid the school over the course of break. Friday had been spent torturing the school. He would sign the list of students staying at the school, then scratch it out, then sign, then scratch it out, laughing at the students’ hurried reactions.

Now he was staying comfortably in the Shrieking Shack. He had stashed most of his belongings in the corner of the den, and conjured a new bed beside the old one up the stairs. No matter how hard he tried he could not bring himself to harm anything related to his father and the Marauders.

He helped Charlie back to his feet, and for the first time since his overdose, a blinding pain stabbed at his mind. Emanating from his scar, it moved in a trickle backwards, before settling behind his eyes. With a low moan, Harry’s vision shifted and he fell deeply into a vision.

The muggle house was absolutely pristine behind the neat white curtains. Tiny candles lit the room where a husband and wife were sipping cider before a fire. He was watching from outside the window. He cast his serpentine eyes across the room, and stopped on the photos over the mantle. One part of the former Golden Trio was smiling at her parents. Happiness—no, something akin to it, though—surged through him, and he turned to the men he had brought with him.

Harry flung himself backwards, wrenching from the vision. He was splayed on the dusty floor. “Charlie, is Hermione staying with Ron?”

“Yes. Why? Harry are you—”

“I’m fine. Her family isn’t.” Flinging himself up he shoved Charlie out of the way, flying to grab his cloak. “Go to the Burrow, keep Hermione there.”

Without waiting for a response, Harry disapparated, leaving the snowdrifts, and the Norman Rockwell image behind.