Chapter 30 – On the Rocks

Freshly showered, Regulus makes his way to the kitchen, bag in hand. He’s already sent Harry an owl to tell him he’d be out of the country for a week, possibly two. His first stop is Bom Morto, Brazil, via Portkey. If Regulus doesn’t find what he wants from there, he plans to travel around using a combination of muggle and magical transport until he gets the answers he’s looking for.

The Goblins have been spectacularly unhelpful in finding a method to remove a Horcrux from a sentient being. He’s not shared who the host might be with the Goblins; the creatures haven’t pushed for that information either. They have, however, promised to keep digging... for a price.

Aberforth had directed him to Brazil back in September through one of his connections. All he knows is that Regulus is looking into soul magic regarding defeating Voldemort, not Horcruxes specifically. Aberforth has always been much more helpful than Albus, but he’s still a Dumbledore at the end of the day.

The two brothers might have fallen out almost a century ago, but Regulus finds it suspect how close they live to each other despite their apparent animosity. Though from what he understands, it’s more on Aberforth’s side than Albus’s.

So, based on information from Aberforth’s contact, Regulus is finally off to Brazil and hopes to return with a way to remove the Horcrux from Harry without killing him. He still has to tell Harry about the Horcrux in his scar. It’s a horrible piece of news he’s hoping to delay for as long as possible. Hopefully, once he’s found an answer to their problems.

“Morning,” Narcissa greets him as he enters the kitchen. She has a cup of coffee in front of her, patiently waiting for Kreacher to serve her breakfast.

“Does Master Regulus be having time to eat before he leaves?”

“Yes, Kreacher, please.”

Regulus returns the greeting as he sits in his usual seat, and with a click of his House Elf’s fingers, the makings of a coffee appear in front of him. He goes about the business of making his coffee, adding copious sugar and plenty of milk to the black brew.

Regulus doesn’t ask after Sirius, knowing his brother is still most likely in the gym, which has become somewhat of an obsession for Sirius over recent months. He’s taking Dudley’s training regime quite seriously.

Dudley’s idea of dying his hair had only partially worked as an effective disguise for Sirius. Sirius has dyed his hair to a dirty blonde colour, which had, in effect, lightened his fur when in dog form. The trouble is that Padfoot is such a big dog that he still stands out miles away, and with Narcissa or Andromeda for company, it was obvious to anyone whom Pettigrew told who the dog was.

Still, rather than keeping Sirius cooped up, they let him out occasionally. Being under house arrest for extended periods wouldn’t improve Sirius’s already volatile nature. His older brother had always been wild.

Engaging in meaningless conversation as they eat their breakfast, Regulus tells Narcissa to call for Kreacher if, or more likely when, Mundungus Fletcher turns up.

“Not that I don’t think you can’t handle him,” Regulus assures his cousin, “but Kreacher can be discreet.”

“Still no word on Pettigrew?” she asks.

“Supposedly, Fletcher’s heard something about a certain rat in Aberdeen,” Regulus shares, “but it could be another false trail.”

“A false trail or a con?” Narcissa asks with a raised brow.

Regulus can’t fault Narcissa for thinking that Fletcher might be conning them with false information for the sake of the money; he’s not the kind of person who made an honest living by any stretch of the imagination. However, Regulus had been working with Fletcher and others like him for long enough to – incentivise them to provide accurate information.

Saving Harry and proving Sirius’s innocence are his main priorities at the moment.

“What’s in Brazil?” Narcissa questions, not for the first time.

And just like every time, Regulus brushes off her question without answering.

He takes his time with breakfast, leaves his care package for Harry and Holly with Narcissa, and speaks to Kreacher a final time to look after himself and the family before departing, bag firmly in hand.

He’s determined to leave no stone unturned in trying to find a way to remove the foul piece of magic from Harry without needing to kill the boy. He would prove Dumbeldore wrong. Harry didn’t need to die.

However, first, he must make a quick pit stop at a café in Paddington. He walks into a small, independently run coffee shop. Though there are plenty of customers queued up due to the morning work rush, the tables are mostly empty.

The person he’s come to see is already waiting for him at the back of the café, hiding behind a newspaper.

“Constance,” he opens with as he takes his expected seat, placing his bag beside him.

“Regulus,” Constance acknowledges, slowly folding the paper away to reveal her short-cropped silver hair. Regulus knows that the other woman cuts her own hair, which explains why it’s so uneven but still suits her. Despite her regular outdoor activity, Constance is as pale as a vampire, making her dark eyes stand out starkly.

He takes the coffee on his side of the table, correctly assuming it’s for him.

“Been waiting long?” Regulus queries idly.

“Long enough,” Constance shrugs before reaching for her own coffee, though continues to watch Regulus closely as he discreetly erects a privacy barrier.

“We’re secure,” Regulus informs her, hiding his wand away just as discreetly as he took it out. “What did you need from me?”

“Had a request from your old pal, Lucius,” Constance tells him, sipping her drink.

Regulus raises a brow, wondering why Constance would be telling him if Lucius had a job for her.

“What’s that then?”

“He wants more information on Eileen Prince. But he’s given me the name Iris Pierce,” the other woman announces.

“And you’re telling me why?” Regulus hides his startlement at this request, wondering why Constance is involving him in this. Now that Lucius has a lead on Eileen, Regulus can well imagine that he’d try to find out more information for Severus. It’s typical behaviour for someone like Lucius, wanting all the information. And after so many years of nothing, this is the first bit of concrete lead the man had. If anything, Regulus is surprised it’s taken Lucius this long to instruct his PI.

Lucius has always been so guarded with the name of his squib PI, believing he was the only one utilising her services. However, Lucius doesn’t know that Regulus has been using Constance’s services for many years already. Almost as long as Lucius had.

Constance had been a treasure in helping him hunt for information on Tom Riddle and his family on both sides. People underestimated squibs, but Constance is one of the rare few who has been able to navigate the wizarding world and the muggle world without sticking out in either world.

Likewise, Regulus never lets on to Lucius that Constance also works for him.

“Old Abraxas gave me strict orders not to let Lucius find out about Eileen; he’s certainly paid enough to keep that information hidden,” Constance explains. “Lucius reaches out every few years for Severus to search for his mother, but I always make a token effort to do a search and then go back to him only to tell him I’ve failed.”

“How is Abraxas involved in this?” he asks as he stares at Constance in confusion.

Constance sighs.

“If you’re going to be this daft, I want breakfast first. You’re paying. You want anything?”

Regulus reaches into his jacket for his muggle wallet, handing the whole thing over to Constance, trusting her implicitly as he tells her he’s already had breakfast.

Constance has always been scrupulously meticulous with expenses and itemisations for the work she does for him. She wouldn’t take advantage, not if she wanted to retain his good business. Had it been Fletcher, Regulus wouldn’t have trusted anything the other wizard might have offered, not even a glass of water, not believing the other wizard not to potion him in some way. While he waits for Constance to get through the queue and place her order, Regulus opens up the muggle newspaper, Financial Times, idly glancing at the muggle investments. He makes a few notes on some of the share prices. He’d get his muggle accountant to make some investments on his behalf.

Constance returns within minutes carrying three bottled drinks, one of which she thrusts in Regulus’s direction, along with his wallet. Regulus stows away his wallet and watches her open her bottle of Coke. He’s already finished his coffee, but hers is forgotten. No doubt he’ll be paying for a fresh one later.

“How’s Uncle Marius?” he asks as they wait for her order to arrive.

After the end of the war and the reconstruction of Grimmauld Place, Regulus had tried to reach out to Marius, the abandoned and disowned Black son. In fact, that was how he ended up meeting Constance. She’d tracked down Marius for him and even initiated contact on his behalf. Marius is a retired widower with two children and three grandchildren.

Regulus met his great Uncle just the one time, but the older man had refused further meetings. Though he was no longer bitter about being a squib, he refused to have anything to do with the magical world any longer. However, he had confessed he dreaded such a time if his grandchildren were ever revealed to be magical. Regulus made sure there were provisions in place should that happen. He was trying to do right by his family.

On the other hand, Constance had hit it off with the old widower. They are both squibs and had bonded over that. It wouldn’t surprise Regulus if there was something more than friendship between the two. Constance is reticent about her own life despite the fact how closely she delves into the lives of others. The only private information he knows is that she’s been divorced twice.

“He’s been okay. He went to Cuba on holiday recently,” Constance shares.

“Did you join him?” Regulus teases. Constance doesn’t have a tan but can easily get access to the Sunscreen potion, which works much better than its muggle counterpart.

Constance ignores the question, aiming a sardonic look in his direction.

“Let down your ward, boy,” she says, “my food’s here.”

The minute the ward drops, their waitress loses the look of confusion on her face and comes over to drop two plates of food in front of them and pulls out cutlery wrapped in paper napkins from her apron. She leaves with a smile at them, and Regulus immediately puts the ward up again.

“What’s this about Abraxas and Eileen?”

“Abraxas helped Eileen disappear in the first place,” Constance begins as she slices her sausages into bite-size pieces.

This is news to Regulus.

“Old man owed Eileen a favour, and Eileen collected by asking to disappear,” Constance continues, concentrating on cutting her bacon rashers.

“What was the favour?” Regulus questions curiously.

Constance doesn’t answer, which tells him she knows but isn’t willing to share the information with him.

“Every so often, Lucius will ask me to search for Severus’s mother,” Constance repeats her earlier statement.

“And because Abraxas helped her leave, he’s paid you to keep that information from Lucius and Severus,” Regulus paraphrases her earlier words, leaning and crossing his arms across his chest.

The other woman nods as she begins to eat.

“How did you get involved in the first place? I wasn’t aware you were Abraxas’s PI as well,” Regulus says with a frown.

“I wasn’t. Lucius hired me a few years later.”

“What a coincidence,” he adds dryly.

Constance smirks at him; as always, when he witnesses it, there’s something familiar about the shape of her mouth. So much for Lucius’s independence from his father. Looks like he was manipulated into taking Constance Noble on as his PI.

“Did Lucius ask you to search for Eileen after Abraxas died?”

“A couple of years back, actually,” the squib tells him and then firmly closes her mouth around a forkful of scrambled eggs.

He’s missing something, Regulus thinks to himself. He lets the other woman eat her way through her plate before deciding to voice more questions.

“Why continue after Abraxas passed?”

“He paid me to. Though this time, the money came from Eileen.”

“And now that Eileen has passed on as well, you’ve got no one paying you? Is that what you want from me? Money to keep Eileen’s identity hidden for longer?”

But no, as soon as the words leave his lips, he realises what he’s missing.

“Wait, how did you know that I know about Eileen and Iris being the same person?”

Constance gives him that smirk again.

“I’ve never lost touch with Eileen,” the squib explains to him. She pauses to drink deeply from her bottle before continuing, “After Eileen left her husband and son the first time, I helped her settle into her new place. Lucius hired me not long after that. He asked me to look into Eileen’s whereabouts. Abraxas tells me not to and I do what Abraxas says. I keep Eileen hidden and tell Lucius that I can’t find her. Following me so far?”

Regulus nods, fascinated against his will.

“Lucius gives up on Eileen after I string him along for six months. So he gives me other tasks. One of them was looking into any woman Severus Snape dated.”

Regulus’s eyebrows climb higher up his forehead. Lucius did what?

“Lucius asked you vet women Severus dated?”

“To protect him, I imagine. Some of them were gold diggers.”

Also a typical Lucius move.

“Severus knows none of this,” Constance confirms his suspicions.

“One day, Abraxas asks me to meet with him and bring him a copy of the information of the woman I investigated for Lucius.”

“Jasmine Pierce,” Regulus states. For who else could it be.

“Abraxas told me Lucius blocked the letters sent by Jasmine Pierce, so he was concerned. In case he needed to step in. I gave him all the information I had on Jasmine, and he asked me to keep an eye on her.”

“And?” he prompts.

“Took me a while to track her down. She lost her job at the Ministry. Couldn’t make rent on her flat. She was sick and living somewhere shady. Almost died and lost her baby.”

His heart clenches as he thinks about losing Holly before she was even born. Jasmine might not have been the greatest of mothers, but Holly is adorable. That little child had impacted everyone’s lives so much. If she hadn’t been born, then Harry would never have met her. Which also meant that Harry most likely wouldn’t have reached out to him. He wouldn’t have got his brother back. He wouldn’t have Dudley in his life. One life had affected so many.

“What happened after that?” Though he could guess, it was still good to know.  

“I told Abraxas about Jasmine and where she was living. About her condition. Told him she’d reached out to Severus’s father but was turned away. He sent a message to Eileen, telling her about Jasmine and her pregnancy. Gives her a choice in what to do.”

“Choice?” he questions. Would Abraxas have got rid of the child? Of Jasmine? He wouldn’t put it past the old man to use any means to have the scandal for his ward go away.

“They approached Jasmine. Eileen looked after her and nursed her back to health, but from what I understand? Jasmine was never the same. Abraxas bought her a house and said it was hers if she didn’t get rid of the baby. After that, she could do what she wanted, but Eileen would get the baby. Jasmine decided to give birth but refused to give custody to Eileen. She kept the house until she died in the fire that killed her and her latest boyfriend. Abraxas sold it and gave the money to Eileen to keep in trust for Holly.”

“He did?”

“He said Severus was his ward, and his child was Abraxas’s grandchild.”

“I never knew the old man was so sentimental,” Regulus murmurs. This was the man who encouraged his son and ward towards Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

“Abraxas liked Eileen. They trusted each other. To an extent,” Constance informs him as she finishes the last of her breakfast.

He nods and looks at her to continue.

“After Abraxas passed and Lucius asked me to search for Eileen, I’d go to Eileen and ask what she wanted to do. She always told me to keep her hidden. She didn’t want to be found. She thought it important for her to keep her grandchildren hidden.”

“Grandchildren? Holly and Harry?” he asks sharply.

Constance pins him with a serious look.

“Eileen had my contact details but didn’t use them often. But one day, I got a message from her asking me to meet up. We meet, and she tells me that the new house she’s bought is near Harry Potter. Anyone who’s anyone knows Harry Potter’s story. Eileen asks me not to let Abraxas find out about the boy. I agree to keep that information from the old man. I thought Eileen would reach out to move homes again. She usually never stays in one place for more than a year or two. But after finding the boy, she stayed there for almost six years. It was risky of her. She introduced me to another squib friend, Arabella Figg. That’s another person who has to keep her secret. It was idiotic, in my opinion, but Eileen grew attached to the boy. I couldn’t talk her out of it.”

It was risky of Eileen. She could have been discovered by Dumbledore at any point. Still, he’s glad the woman had been there for Harry.

“You haven’t answered how you know about me,” Regulus says.

“Eileen told me,” she tells him, giving him a look questioning his intelligence. “She said in Harry’s third year at Hogwarts, the boy started writing to you. You’re Narcissa’s cousin. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume that Lucius might learn about Eileen from you.”

He nods, conceding the point.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on events since Eileen passed away. Holly was alone, and Harry didn’t know about Eileen’s death. And from recent events, Harry’s got plenty more on his plate to deal with.”

Merlin, wasn’t that true, Regulus thinks.

“I never met Holly or Harry in person, but through Eileen, I’ve grown fond of both. Are they okay?”

It’s the first time since the beginning of their meeting that Constance has shown anything other than a blank face.

“They’re brilliant,” Regulus says with a smile.

“Which brings me to now,” she concludes. “Lucius has finally found Eileen’s assumed name and wants information on her – all I’ve told him so far is that Iris Pierce has been living in Surrey for close to six years and that no woman with such a name existed before that. The real Iris Pierce died several years before Eileen took over the identity. Before Eileen and Abraxas paid me to keep the information hidden. Now? What do I do? Lucius will know I’m lying if I can’t provide him with this information. Especially considering he seems to know most of it.”

“Lucius is doing what he’s always done: gathering information. Now that he knows Eileen and Iris were one and the same, he simply wants to fill the gaps. It’s still about power, and he wants to protect his family. He’s not planning on presenting this information to Severus straight away. There’s more at play, and he realises that. Treat this as any other task he’s assigned you. Gather the information as you would normally, just leave out Abraxas’s connection and Eileen’s inclusion. Leave out the years between Eileen leaving Spinners End and finding Jasmine. Start from the point where she took on Iris Pierce’s name.”

Constance looks relieved that she would no longer have the burden of the decision-making.

“She should have just come out when Dumbledore found her,” Constance grumbles. “What a mess she’s left us in.”

“What!” Regulus says sharply. Had it not been for the privacy barrier, Regulus would have had a lot of attention on him. “Dumbledore?”

Constance gives him a funny look and rolls her eyes.

“He found out about Eileen some months back. Something about a task in the Triwizard tournament.”

Regulus thinks swiftly.

“The second task? The one where the Champions had to collect their most treasured possession?”

Harry had written to him about that task. He’d had to bring back his friend, Ron, from the bottom of the lake. However, the daft boy had stayed down there, wasting his time, until all the hostages had been rescued.

I couldn’t leave Ron and Hermione down there, Regulus. And I couldn’t leave the little girl, either. She’s someone’s sister.

Regulus hadn’t given it much thought at the time. Back then, he’d not known about Holly or Eileen. But now the words come back with stark clarity. Harry had rescued the Veela girl’s sister because he’d been thinking of Holly.

“There’s a spell that’s part of the Tournament,” Constance explains. “Eileen told me that’s how Dumbledore found her and Holly. The spell named Holly as Harry’s most valued treasure. Eileen refused to let Dumbledore use Holly.”

That sneaky old coot, Regulus thinks incredulously. Regulus had wasted several weeks looking into Holly’s various homes, and Dumbledore had pretended he’d known nothing of Eileen until Regulus had informed him. He would be having words with the sly bastard upon his return from Brazil. Speaking of, he checked the time on his wristwatch. He still had an hour before his portkey. Nonetheless, he wanted to wrap this up quickly.

He gives Constance a sharp look, “Did you have me running around in circles when I was looking for Holly’s new care home this summer?”

The woman gives him an impish smile but doesn’t answer.

“You and Lucius were paying me for the same thing,” she says with an unconcerned shrug. “Eileen already anticipated Severus taking custody of his daughter. She met with Tobias, tasking him with informing Severus about his daughter. Severus was given first crack at finding Holly. I had to keep you behind them to give Severus a chance to decide if he wanted his daughter. If he’d have decided that he didn’t, I would have led you to Holly.”

“Dangerous game you all played,” Regulus says with a rueful shake of his head. Still, what’s done is done. They still have a lot to unravel. Despite their efforts to keep Severus in the dark, Regulus suspects it won’t be long before the Potions Master finds out the truth about his mother.

“Two things- the first, I have another job for you,” he says, coming up with it on the spot. “I want a full background check on Albus Dumbledore.”

Constance gives him a look of surprise.

“Full background check?”

“Everything,” Regulus confirms.

“He’s over a hundred years old,” Constance informs him as if he doesn’t know. “Do you know how long that will take?”

Regulus gives her a bland smile.

“Usual rates apply,” she sighs in acquiescence.

He agrees with a placid nod.

“And the second thing?”

“You didn’t keep Eileen hidden for money,” he says after a careful pause. “She was more than a job to you.”

Constance pierces him with a sharp look of her own, and Regulus feels like there’s another familiar expression there. It teases the edges of his consciousness.

“You know how squibs are treated,” she says in a quiet voice. “You grow up with your parents, play with your cousins, and everyone’s eagerly waiting for some burst of magic, for a special letter, and when you don’t get one, you’re thrown away like yesterday’s Prophet. Your parents don’t hesitate to abandon you in the streets, and the cousins you treated like siblings aren’t allowed to speak of you anymore. But mine did. She secretly sent me letters, begging me not to hate her for having magic when I didn’t. Begged to forgive her.”

“You’re a Prince,” he states as realisation dawns.

She gives him a sad smile. “I’m a Noble.”

“Lucius and Severus – they don’t know?”

Constance shakes her head.

“But Abraxas did?”

She nods silently.

Regulus is beginning to feel like he might not have known Abraxas at all. Lucius respected his father while the man was alive but had never loved him, often describing the Malfoy patriarch as a cold, unapproachable wizard.

It’s hard for Regulus to reconcile the Abraxas Constance presents to the one Lucius always described. Lucius hadn’t shown an ounce of regret at his father’s passing. Instead, he’d seemed … relieved. Much how Regulus felt at his own mother’s passing.

They part ways soon after. He tells her to take her time with Dumbledore; he’s in no rush for that information. He’d not planned on asking for it, but given the old man’s tendency towards secrecy, it’s wise for Regulus to know about the man with so much power and influence.

And yes, perhaps he is a little annoyed that Albus hadn’t confessed to already knowing about Eileen and Holly.

ooOoo

Dudley put the phone down in frustration, as always seemed to be the case after speaking to his parents.

Regulus hadn’t allowed Dudley to accompany him, Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey to his house that night when the Headmaster collapsed the wards. He’d done so in an effort to protect Dudley from his parents’ anger, but Dudley wished he’d been there to confront his parents.

After whatever Dumbledore did what he did to the wards, his parents fluctuated from anger to paranoia. Their greatest fear had come true. The wizards knew how they treated Harry. Dudley didn’t have to be there to know that his parents had tried to bluster their way through the whole exchange.

When Regulus returned with Dumbledore and Pomfrey, they still made Dudley stay at Mrs Figg’s house for almost two hours, perhaps afraid they would take their anger out on Dudley.

However, when he made his way back home, his parents had pulled him in, having been watching for his arrival, clutched him tightly and checked him over like they had done after the Dementor incident. His father had bristled and ranted and explained that Harry wasn’t coming back and “Good riddance to the waste of space!”

His mother seemed to teeter between fear and relief, though what they were regarding Dudley could only guess.

Now, they’ve become even more overprotective. His mother is almost a wreck. She’d already spent quite a bit of time spying on their neighbours, and now she spends even more glued to the window, eyes trained on every movement out of paranoia. The wards protecting Harry and, consequently, the Dursleys are gone. So his parents can be attacked at any time. Or at least, that’s what his parents have been led to believe by Dumbledore and Regulus.

His father has been angry since that night. They believe Dudley would be safe at school, but Petunia rings daily to check on him.

It’s becoming more and more of a battle with his parents to spend time with Mrs Figg or with Regulus at Grimmauld Place when he goes home every weekend. He loves his parents, but he’s been struggling to like them as people for several years.

Oma and Mrs Figg had been great in helping him. They never talked badly about his parents to him, even though Dudley recognised that they deserved to have people talking badly about them. He swallows a lump in his throat as he thinks about Oma. The best thing that ever happened to Dudley was when Oma gave him a chance to prove himself. She talked Harry and Holly into giving him a chance to show he’d turned over a new leaf. With Harry, it had been difficult to gauge through his letters (Harry never wrote directly to Dudley), but he’d had to work extra hard to win Holly over.

Every weekend he was home from Smeltings, he’d visit Oma and Holly and help them any way he could. Oma had been the one to encourage him to take up boxing and look after his health. She’d bought him a book on nutrition, making healthy choices, and looking after himself.

With Holly, he’d managed to win her over (eventually) in supporting her with her gymnastics, and also when she’d seen him defend some kids in the neighbourhood against his own friends – former friends. Dudley hadn’t known Holly was watching, but she’d seen him, and that had caused her to thaw in her interactions with him.

Oma never interfered in his amendments to Harry or Holly; had told him quite frankly that he had made his mistakes, and it was up to him to make up for them in his own way.

It took Harry almost a whole year to fully trust Dudley and start writing to him directly. Those notes started off brief, barely offering him any information about how his cousin was doing. Nothing like the essays Harry sent Oma and Holly, but Dudley didn’t care. He wrote back much more to Harry, hoping to get the other to open up, no matter how long it took him.

It had made Dudley unbelievably proud when he’d received a letter telling him to watch out for Oma and Holly. Harry mentioned that Oma could be careless with her own health, and that Dudley should encourage her to look after herself.

Taking those words to heart, Dudley nagged Oma every chance he got whenever he visited.

Then Oma passed away, and Dudley couldn’t bring himself to write to Harry about her death. That sort of news shouldn’t have been put in a letter. Harry deserved more than a few words on a piece of paper. And then Oma’s body was taken away and buried. Even Dudley didn’t get to attend her funeral. He never got a chance to say goodbye to the woman who influenced his life for the better.

Though Oma never influenced him to do so, Dudley couldn’t help but withdraw from his parents. Lately, he found himself biting his tongue from arguing with them. Not just about Harry but about everything. Politics, foreigners, religion – everything his parents had opinions on; Dudley found himself having counter opinions on topics he’d never realised he actually cared about.

He’s always known his parents, though Vernon, particularly, was conservative to the extreme and full of prejudice. They hated everything that didn’t fit in with their worldview.

Dudley suspects his mother only agreed with Vernon for the sake of peace rather than genuinely believing any of the rubbish his father spouted. It saddens Dudley to think that her jealousy of Aunt Lily being a witch has led Petunia to lump herself with someone as narrow-minded as his father.

To think, if not for Harry removing his tail as a kind gesture, Dudley might have followed along the same path. He is glad he got to know his cousin better and made a new family with Holly and Oma. They’ve made him a better person.

“Everything all right, Dudley?” Mr Phillips, his Headmaster, asks, pulling the young lad from his thoughts.

“Er, yes, sir,” Dudley answers.

The Headmaster gives him an assessing look.

“Come to my office, Dudley. We’ll have some tea,” Mr Phillips says invitingly.

Dudley hesitates for a moment before giving in.

Mr Phillips has always been a hands-on headmaster. He never shied away from his past, which his father would have despised if he’d known about it. Mr Phillips was a self-made man who’d had gang-related problems in his youth. He’d been abandoned on the streets by his birth family when he was eight because he didn’t fit in with them. He’d eventually been adopted at twelve by an elderly couple, loving and supporting despite his behavioural issues, who’d sent him to Smeltings, where he found his ambition to pay it forward.

He regularly mentors children from less fortunate backgrounds like his own and has an open-door policy for all staff and students. He’s supported Dudley’s boxing activities and given him loads of helpful advice on balancing his academics.

Dudley follows the Headmaster to his office, nodding at his secretary on the way.

Mr Phillips prepares the tea himself instead of getting his secretary to do it for him. Vernon would have yelled at his secretary to fetch the tea and make it for him and his clients.

Without intending to, Dudley finds himself unloading his feelings about his parents, Harry, Oma, Holly, and even Regulus- all without mentioning magic.

Mr Phillips listens with patient sympathy, asking only clarifying questions and adding suggestions to help Dudley cope with the situation. Dudley finds himself grateful that his Headmaster isn’t judging Dudley, even when then the young boy confesses how he used to want to be like his own father.

“The important thing is that your cousin is out of that environment now,” Mr Phillips says to Dudley, “and realises he hasn’t lost all his family.”

“I’m sorry to take up your time,” Dudley says guiltily, realising he’s been there for hours.

“Don’t worry yourself about that, Dudley,” the Headmaster assures him. “You’re my student, and your well-being is my concern. Your cousin’s lucky to have you. You clearly think highly of him.”

Dudley’s lips twitch into a hesitant smile. No one’s told him anything like that.

“Thank you for saying that,” Dudley tells his Headmaster, “but Harry’s not the lucky one. I am.”

“Dudley,” the Headmaster’s voice stops him as he makes to leave, “If you ever feel unsafe at home, you know you can come to me for support. Your cousin might be safe now. Your safety matters, too.”

Dudley nods, feeling overwhelmed.

ooOoo

“Hi,” Harry greets his girlfriend shyly.

“Hello,” Luna replies placidly, unhesitatingly taking Harry’s hand.

Harry’s grip is firm as he pulls her in for a quick kiss before moving back.

“How was your Charms class?” he asks, leading her to an empty class not far from the Room of Requirement.

They decided not to go to the UMPA club today, choosing instead of a date night. Holly is with Lucius and Draco, so Harry chooses to spend time with Luna. He still has two homework essays to complete, but he has plenty of time for that later.

He and Holly are trying to settle into a routine. They each have a copy of the other’s schedule, but he’d known introducing Holly to the UMPAs would mean juggling their time yet again. No one outside the UMPAs knew about the club, so changing – er, let’s call them custody days, would be difficult to negotiate with Snape, but that didn’t mean that Harry couldn’t rejig his own schedule to accommodate. And if they needed to swap days for whatever reason, Harry is confident they could handle that when needed.

Snape had been much less vocal about his and Holly’s relationship, but Harry was not idiot enough to believe that the Potions Master had given up on trying to separate them.

He listens with amusement as Luna describes her attempt at the Cheering Charm. The boy she’d partnered with barely cracked a smile, grumbling at being partnered with Looney Lovegood, but Luna might have overpowered her Cheering Charm, so Shuttleworth hadn’t stopped giggling throughout dinner until Professor Flitwick reversed the Charm himself.

It looked like tutoring sessions for DADA also helped Luna with her Charms work.

Upon entering the unused classroom, Harry leads Luna to the middle of the room. All the tables and chairs have been pushed against the far wall. The classroom itself has been scrubbed clean from top to bottom, and even the windows are sparkling clean. Dobby had done a great job and Setty, one of the kitchen elves loved trying the new recipes learned from Sprout’s Cooking Club.

Luna, who travelled quite a bit with her dad from a young age, was never fussy when it came to trying new foods. Her favourite so far is anything she can eat with hummus, so the picnic is with various naans and vegetables she can dip into the mashed chickpea mixture.

As they’d forgone dinner for their date, Harry had also requested Setty to make something more substantial, like a lamb stew, using a newly learned Greek recipe.

“This is great,” Luna enthused, folding her legs daintily underneath her and reaching for the carrot sticks to dip into her red pepper hummus.

The whole picnic is paired with red grape juice, which is sweet yet tangy. Encouraging Luna to talk about her travels, he listens as she tells him of the time her father was locked up in jail while travelling in Canada. She’d only been nine at the time, but the Canadian police had taken care of her. The Wizarding World in Canada had interfered on Mr Lovegood’s behalf, and he’d been slapped with a hefty fine and banned from entering Canada for five years.

“Daddy wants to return this summer as the ban will be over by then. He’s been careful with studying the laws of that area so he won’t get in trouble again. Who knew using a Levitating Charm on the local fairies would start a riot?”

Harry snorts in laughter.

“You could join us in Canada this summer, couldn’t you? It’s a beautiful country. Holly would enjoy the Rocky Mountains. ”

“We’d like that,” Harry says, pretending it could happen. Pretending Snape would let Harry anywhere near Holly during the summer holidays.

Luna knew she wanted to be a Magizoologist, like Newt Scamander. She loved travelling the world with her father and watching the creatures and animals in their natural environment. Xenophilius, for all his questionable ramblings in the Quibbler, just wanted to shine a light on misunderstood creatures and bring awareness to creatures most didn’t even believe existed. Luna has a talent for writing and drawing; being a fantastic artist like Dean, Harry could see writing and illustrating her own book one day.

Harry’s own ambition is undetermined. At one point in his life, before he found out he was a wizard, he would have liked to have become an Olympic-level gymnast, but not so much now, as much as he loves gymnastics. He loves flying; however, despite his natural talent in the sport, he couldn’t imagine life as a Quidditch player, no matter how much Ron believes that’s the ultimate goal in life.

He likes Defence Against the Dark Arts, and arguably, it could be considered his best subject in school, but despite the advice from, ironically, a Death Eater in disguise last year, life as an Auror isn’t for him.

He shares all this with Luna.

Luna holds a carrot dipped into hummus to his mouth, which he automatically opens to receive and tells him, “A career is very important, Harry. However, you don’t need to make all the decisions right now. That would be silly.”

Harry thoughtfully chews on his food, gently taking his remaining carrot from Luna, who absently licks the hummus from her fingers and continues, “Having options isn’t a bad idea. You’re so clever at everything. You’re good in Charms, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. You like sports as well. You could be an inventor.”

“I have wanted to make my own broom,” Harry admits. “Holly wants to be the one to name it, though.”

Luna giggles and asks, “What does she want to call it?”

“She hasn’t decided it,” Harry smiles.

“I bet you would make a wonderful new broom,” Luna shares with a dreamy smile. “You could progress with your Charms work and go into Enchanting.”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs, feeling unclear. “I’d like to fly it in the Annual broom race in Sweden.”

Luna smiles again, “That would be a good way to test your broom’s limits.”

They move on to other topics as they continue eating through their picnic.

Luna shares more anecdotes from her travels. Tells him what she remembers about her mother. Luna doesn’t divulge much about her mother’s death, only that she’d been there to witness it, hence the reason she can see thestrals before she’d even started Hogwarts.

Harry loves learning more about Luna. He knows she likes flying, but not necessarily on a broom. She loves riding Abraxans and Thestrals, feeling the power of the beasts beneath her. She and her parents often went horse riding at the local stables not far from the Rookery. Now, it is still something she shares with her father in honour of her mother. Most of all, he loves how Luna is open to new experiences.

Hermione is as studious as any Ravenclaw and prefers her books over being outdoors. Luna is the opposite. She loves learning as much as Hermione but is open to practical experiences and experiments. She can easily get lost in a good book but could just as quickly put it aside and walk barefoot in the rain. Hermione would plan every excursion down to the last detail, but Luna would let life lead her. Harry would follow Luna anywhere she led. He only wishes he’d met Luna before last year, simply so he could have written to Oma and shared more of the blonde girl who was okay with living with her head in the clouds.

Oma would have loved Luna as he and Holly do.

A little over an hour later, Harry makes his way back to Gryffindor Tower; after walking Luna back to Ravenclaw Tower, he contemplates the Houses.

When he first heard of the different houses, mostly from other students (mainly Ron), Gryffindors are full of the brave students, Ravenclaws are full of the studious bookworms, Slytherin the ambitious (though Ron always made this sound like a bad thing – probably because Slytherins were okay with using underhanded methods to achieve their goals). Hufflepuff’s reputation was almost as bad as Slytherins, but not for the same reason, as they were often deemed the leftover House.

Harry worked with various students in the UMPA club, all of whom had let go of House prejudices once they realised how shared their personal interests were.

Harry had slowly begun letting go of his own House prejudices after the start of the UMPA club as well, but more so after he’d begun writing to Regulus during his third year when Sirius had escaped Azkaban. Regulus had opened his eyes about House prejudices like no one else had.

Harry wasn’t sure if his presence pulled the Houses together or exacerbated the divides. Slytherin was still seen as the ‘bad’ House, but there had been occasions, such as during the tournament last year when everyone seemed in agreement that he had entered his own name in the Goblet of Fire. The UMPA club members had supported him, but only in the Room of Requirement. Outside the club, most had stayed out of the conflict, full of primarily Purebloods or Halfbloods raised in the Wizarding world, who might have otherwise rebelled against a Hufflepuff Champion, even if he was a Pureblood, but had only supported him (the Slytherins) because they hated the idea of having to support Harry even more.

He’d been excited when Hagrid told Harry he was a wizard and would be learning at Hogwarts. He felt like he’d found a second home. Oma had encouraged his excitement and his desire to prove himself, proud of his every accomplishment, big and small. Supportive in ways no one else had been of the suffering he’d endured in the school. He thought Hogwarts would be a new start, but in its own way, it had been no different from life in Privet Drive.

Sometimes, and this isn’t anything he’s ever admitted to anyone, even Oma or Holly, he isn’t sure he wants to stay in Hogwarts. There were occasions, last year especially, when he felt like leaving Hogwarts behind forever.

If it wasn’t for Snape, he would have been tempted to leave Hogwarts and take Holly with him. Holly wouldn’t say no. He’s confident Holly would pick Harry over Snape any time. But Snape is the obsessive sort. He’d never let Holly go. So Harry is stuck.

Still, he entertains thoughts of travelling around the world with Holly and Luna, a smile gracing his lips as he absently tells the Fat Lady the password and enters the Common room, walking up to his dorms, not even realising Hermione and Ron are trying to get his attention.

ooOoo

Severus apparates to the coordinates provided by Albus, a mile away from St John’s Point, where a Lighthouse is located on the borders of Scotland. Fletcher had informed the Order that someone within the Ministry was trying to illegally sell the Guardian Medallions. They have no clue how many Medallions are being offered, who the buyers are, where the deal could go down, or even if it’s already happened yet or not; however, Albus has been asking for volunteers to ward the borders of Scotland closest to the North Sea.

Albus, who is a tinkerer himself, has set up various gadgets in his office to alert him if Dementors attempt to cross the Scottish Borders.

He absently casts a Warming Charm on his cloak. About to check his watch for the time, he spies a faint glow. It’s the silver colour of the Patronus, and cautiously advances towards it, casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself.

He relaxes slightly as he recognises Shacklebolt’s lynx.

“Ah, Snape,” Shacklebolt greets as he sees Severus approach.

Severus nods his head tersely at the other wizard.

“Miss Tonks? Is she here as well?”

“Tonks is further up setting up Anti-muggle wards near the Lighthouse. There’s a man on duty there, but he’s one of ours. However, we saw some muggles wandering around, so she’s setting up deterrents.”

Severus nods again. Their job would end up needlessly longer than necessary if they had to dodge muggles while trying to cast the required wards. While waiting for Tonks to return, Shacklebolt brings out a map to show Severus. They pour over it together, discussing who would take what point.

“Tonks has the Ward Stones,” Shacklebolt informs him.

He likes that Shacklebolt doesn’t engage in meaningless chatter and that he chooses to utilise their waiting time effectively while waiting for Tonks. The metamorphmagus returns within ten minutes.

“Any trouble?” Shacklebolt asks.

“No,” Tonks denies. “Just a bunch of college students doing some sort of experiment.”

Tonks doesn’t elaborate further, coming over to glance at the map.

“That map up to date?” she asks.

“Yes. Why?” Shacklebolt questions with a frown.

“Fletcher was supposed to cover that area with Hestia,” Tonks shrugs.

Severus suppresses a sigh, not pleased. Fletcher is a coward who leans towards the cushy assignments that offer the least amount of danger. Though the sleazy wizard could navigate the seedy underbelly of the Wizarding world, including but not limited to Knockturn Alley, he could apparate out faster than the blink of an eye at the first scent of danger.

“He’s following a trail for Regulus,” Shacklebolt explains. “He asked Moody to back him up.”

Severus holds back his surprise. Wary of Aurors, Fletcher would have to be desperate to ask Moody to accompany him on any sort of assignment.

“Let’s get on with this then,” Tonks grumbles. “I’d like to go home and get some sleep before my early shift.”

As much as he doesn’t doubt the young Auror is tired of pulling double duty, Severus refrains from pointing out that almost all Order members are overcommitted to various assignments on top of their day jobs. As much as he’d like to blame it on Fudge’s cowardice, Severus believes that even if the Dark Lord’s return was made public, the Order would still be working in the shadows to thwart the other side’s plans.

He might have been on the other side of the war the first time around but the Dark Lord had not been any less demanding of his time even when he’d found employment in Hogwarts as the Potions professor. He firmly shoved thoughts of the early spy days to the back of his mind. He is no longer a spy. With Holly in his life now, he’s glad that’s the case. However, it doesn’t make him feel any more helpful than Black.

Creating wards is better than constantly brewing Potions for the Order, which he feels is a task assigned to him out of pity rather than need. Not with the likes of Andromeda Tonks, a competent brewer in her own right, helping the Order.

Still, Severus doesn’t argue with Tonks. He’s got to be up for his first gym session with Draco and his friends in the morning. Potter is meant to be training him. He’s not looking forward to the morning for various reasons, but he’d like a good night’s sleep nonetheless.

They split the borders from John O’Groats to St John’s Point between them, which still covers quite a bit of territory.

“Both of you apparate back to the Caithness safe house as soon as you’re done,” Shacklebolt orders, taking the Ward stones from Tonks. “I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m done. We’ll activate them once we’re all together.”

It takes Severus almost two hours to place the wards in his section. He’s got to bury the stones deep enough not to be disturbed by anyone passing by but not too deep so that they can’t be found again. Though the Ward stones aren’t expensive, they only last a short period and have to be recharged to continue the magical link to keep the wards active. If one stone failed, it would weaken the rest of the wards.

Feeling cold, grimy and exhausted, Severus apparates to the designated Safehouse.

Tonks is already there, and an almost silent pop behind him signals the arrival of Shacklebolt.

Shacklebolt lays the map on the kitchen table, enlarging the relevant borders. He taps his wand to the first cross, starting at John O’Groats and tracing the tip to St John’s Point. Severus goes next, copying his movements and Tonks is ready to take her turn directly after. They all traced the same line and watch as the line has random blinking dots, yellow to begin with and then green.

Severus finds himself relaxing his shoulders as he sees the wards activate. Their work is by no means over, but at least they’ve have one section safe. The now active wards along that particular section should warn Albus, or whoever the Headmaster assigned to look after the wards, if they are breached by Dementors. They would still need to cover a lot more of the Scottish border but that was the task for the next team.

“Moody left us a flask of hot chocolate,” Tonks says, reaching for said flask on the kitchen counter.

“I’ll take a mug,” Shacklebolt agrees, looking grateful.

Severus refuses the offer, wanting to get out of there and back in bed.

“I’ll take my leave,” he tells them stiltedly. He exits the house without waiting for a reply, disapparating with a near silent pop outside the gates of Hogwarts. He makes the long trek to the castle and to the dungeons with only his own thoughts for company.

To his surprise, he finds Lucius has made himself at home on his sofa. Dressed for bed, as in stripped down to his underwear, the blond had transfigured Severus’s sofa into a bed and helped himself to the spare bedding. On the coffee table, there is a thermos and Severus’s favourite mug, indicating that whatever is in the thermos is for Severus.

Severus doesn’t expect Lucius to be here, having agreed for Holly to stay with Lucius in his rooms in case his task for Dumbledore took longer than planned.

As has become ritual he stands outside Holly’s bedroom door. Though he’d promised never to enter the room without permission, it has become a habit to check on her before he heads to bed. Something he’s done all summer since finding her. He stands there for several minutes, watching her sleeping figure.

After a while, he retreats silently, being careful not to disturb Lucius. He sits in his armchair, reaching for the thermos and mug. Uncapping the lid, the aroma of hot chocolate, spiced with cinnamon, hits him straightaway. His mother used to prepare it for him when he was a child. On those cold nights when his father hadn’t paid for the heating and sprawled in the master bedroom in a drunken stupor, Eileen and Severus retreated to the kitchen with threadbare blankets and melted cheap chocolate into a single mug of milk spiced with cinnamon to share between them.

He drinks the whole thermos slowly, savouring the heat and feeling his body relax. With a soft smile at the sleeping Lucius, he makes sure the fire is set to stay lit the rest of the night and retreats to his bedroom.

When he wakes up later, he feels better rested than expected, given the late night, but dreads getting out of bed. Reluctantly, when he’s sure the others have risen, he gets out of bed and retreats to the bathroom. He brushes his teeth as he absently turns the shower head on but turns it off abruptly as he remembers Lucius’s advice on not showering until after he’s done in the gym. He sighs and completes the rest of his ablutions before heading back to his bedroom to change into appropriate gym wear. The clothes sent to him by Regulus and Narcissa feel alien to him. Even during summer, he favours formal wear under his robes, clothing fitting enough that wouldn’t be an encumbrance when it came to brewing. His robes might billow and be looser fitting, but he’s more used to them and knows how to work with them when brewing his potions if he wears them at all.

Wearing these jogging bottoms and short-sleeved tops feels like he’s exposing himself. He reluctantly dons his new garments, grimacing in distaste the whole time. At least Narcissa knew to get him dark colours. He’s slipped on his t-shirt when there’s a knock on his bedroom door.

“Come in,” he snaps, already in a bad mood. Draco better appreciate this.

Lucius strolls in, ignoring Severus’s temper; he holds out a sleeve to the irate Potions Master.

“What’s that?” Severus eyes the skin-coloured sleeve suspiciously even as he reaches out for it.

“It’s to cover up your scar,” Lucius says quietly.

Wearing his own short-sleeved top, Lucius holds out his seemingly bare left arm.

“A glamour?” Severus asks. They both usually wear something with long sleeves, no matter the weather. The cursed Dark Mark was resistant to Glamour spells and makeup in all forms; even during the years it was faded to almost nothing.

“Applied directly on the sleeve itself. There’s a mild Sticking Charm, so the sleeve doesn’t move, no matter what you do,” Lucius explains.

Severus nods. It was something he’d been dreading, truth be told but had dared not voice. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to him that Lucius might have already resolved that issue.

Without further words, Lucius leaves so Severus can finish dressing. All he needs to do is put on his socks and shoes, as well as his sleeve. The shoes feel odd. He’s never worn trainers before. His usual dragonhide boots are stiff but comfortable. These trainers are soft and flexible. He’s not sure he likes the sensation.

Finally, feeling as ready as he’s ever going to be, he adjusts the sleeve covering his tattoo one last time and exits his bedroom, where Lucius and Holly are already waiting for him. Lucius, as is his habit, has thrown a robe over his workout clothes, which Severus immediately emulates, glad not to have to walk through the corridors practically naked.

He clears his throat and immediately asks, “Ready?”

Holly nods without even looking in his direction, but Lucius at least gives him a verbal answer.

They have to detour to the Slytherin Common room where Draco and his friends are waiting, and to his surprise, he sees Daphne’s sister, Astoria and best friend, Tracey, ready to leave with them. They are all decked in gym clothes, but at seeing Lucius and Severus wearing robes, the students, barring Astoria and Tracey immediately ask to retrieve their robes.

Severus allows this delay, happy to procrastinate for a little longer.

In no time at all, they reach the Transfiguration classrooms where, just down the corridor from Minerva’s office, the gym is located.

Holly ambles along, chatting amiably with Astoria, surprising Severus with their easy familiarity. Draco sulks as he tries to converse with the little girl, ignoring his equally sulky girlfriend, who tries to gain Draco’s attention.

Severus and Lucius, who are bringing up the rear, exchange a look.

“I fear Pansy and Draco might not last very long,” Lucius shares.

Severus doesn’t say anything in response to this but secretly agrees.

The door to the gym is open, and voices drift from inside. Holly eagerly darts in, followed just as enthusiastically by Astoria and Tracey Davis. The remaining Slytherins enter much more cautiously; Severus follows more reluctantly, whereas Lucius seems impatient and practically shoves Severus in the back.

Severus stops abruptly, astonished to see not just Potter and Thomas in the gym, whom Lucius had informed him was a regular partner to Potter most mornings, but today, apparently, the Chasers from the Quidditch team have turned up. However, apart from them, both Poppy and Minerva are seated at a small round table, looking like they are in a cafe rather than a gym, with a tea set and mugs shared between them.

He exchanges a look with Lucius, who only shakes his head, indicating he wasn’t aware of the changes today.

Holly has already thrown herself at Potter, who smiles widely at her, turning to acknowledge the group who have paused long enough in their activities only to return to her greetings before continuing with setting up the equipment they are preparing to use.

Severus stiffly approaches Poppy and Minerva after strictly telling his students to stay where they are.

“Ladies,” he opens with, feeling hurt as he realises they are here to keep an eye on him in case he hurts Potter. “I wasn’t aware there was a party this morning.”

“Morning, Severus,” Minerva returns brusquely, looking at him over the top of her teacup. “Poppy and I felt it prudent to make ourselves available at today’s session.”

Keeping his voice low, he leans in slightly and says, “I admit I had a lapse in judgement earlier in the year, but I have already vowed not to repeat it. Do you trust me so little to think I would hurt Potter again?”

“You misunderstand our presence, Severus,” Poppy says as she turns to him. “We are here for you and your Slytherins, true, but not because we believe you will hurt them. We’re here to pick you up for when Harry hurts you, even if he doesn’t mean to.”

Severus frowns, confused by her words.

“You’ll see,” she smiles impishly at him. “You should join your students, Severus. Off you trot.”

She shoos him away with a wave of her hand, returning to exchange a look laden with meaning that he isn’t able to discern with Minerva.

He walks away, his frown erased despite his lingering confusion. Belatedly, he realises that they mean the sore muscles Potter will induce based on the training they will make him do.

Lucius, in the meantime, has approached Potter, who likewise leaves his group behind, including Holly, who chats eagerly away with the Gryffindor Chasers. They converse in low tones between themselves, a conversation which involves a lot of head nodding and shrugging from Potter.

“Why are Potter and Thomas in shorts?” Zabini asks in a low voice.

“They’re all wearing shorts,” Davis points out.

Severus shudders at the thought of exposing so much of his body. He’s already dreading the thought of taking his outer robe off and is glad that Narcissa hadn’t sent him that monstrosity of a garment to wear. Before they went to fetch their robes, even his Slytherins wore clothes covering their arms and legs, even if they are form-fitting.  

Thomas breaks away from the Chasers, coming to Potter and Lucius. They seem to have reached some sort of decision and approach Severus and the Slytherins.

“Er, hi, everyone,” Potter begins awkwardly.

“What are you wearing, Potter?” Draco asks rudely, staring at Potter’s bare legs.

Potter looks down confusedly at where Draco is staring.

“My gym shorts, Malfoy,” the boy answers uncertainly, exchanging a bemused look with Thomas.

“That’s indecent,” Draco continues, without seeming to hear the boy.

“It’s perfectly acceptable workout attire, Draco,” Lucius intervenes.

Nott pokes Draco to stop him from interrupting further.

“So,” Potter ploughs ahead, “first we should establish the rules again.”

Without waiting for a reply, Potter re-iterates the rules of the gym that he’d already given them the previous week. Most of this is repetition.

“If you’ve not brought your own sweat towel, there’s some near where Professor McGonagall and Madam  Pomfrey are sitting. There’s a second bin right next to it, that’s where you can dispose of them once you’ve finished your session. Both bins are clearly labelled, so there’s no reason why anyone would get these mixed up. The gym is open from five in the morning to curfew, and it’s best, despite the safety measures taken, that no one attends alone. If you don’t know how to use a piece of equipment and there’s no one around to show you how, leave it alone. Don’t try to guess; you’ll only end up hurting yourself. Any questions?”

Draco looks to have been on the verge of asking a belligerent question, but another poke, from Zabini this time, stops him.

“There are too many pieces of equipment to demonstrate all of them, so Dean and I have pulled out all the common ones, such as skipping ropes, dumbbells, barbells, resistance bands, pull-up station and a few others. If any of you are feeling up to it, we’ll do some circuit training where you’ll take turns using each of this equipment.”

Potter pauses to look around at the group, very obviously counting the number of people.

“Are you joining us, Professor?” Potter asks, looking at Lucius.

“Yes, I will be.”

“Right, that’s nine then,” Potter nods and Severus has to bite back a comment on congratulating the boy on his ability to count.

Severus finds himself impatient and wanting to leave. He almost does so, especially when the Gryffindor Chasers come up and Johnson butts in with, “If you’re holding a training session, then we’re joining you, Harry.”

“I don’t think so, Angelina,” Potter shakes his head in denial. “These guys are new. The plan Dean and I have come up with is suited to those starting out. You wouldn’t find this challenging enough. I have another session for you to follow.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bell says easily.

“We’re not weak,” Draco argues. “We can follow the same plan you lot can.”

“Of course you can,” Johnson retorts, her tone condescending.

“How about we start off easy, and then if you’re feeling up to the more difficult exercises, we’ll show you how to make them more challenging,” Thomas suggests.

Draco nods grudgingly. Severus wishes he could walk out right now. Why is he here?

The reason walks up to Potter and happily chirps, “Can I join as well, Harry?”

“Course you can,” the boy replies with a smile.

“And then we can do some gymnastics? I want to show Tracey and Tori what I can do on the balance beam.”

“We’ll show them some gymnastics as well,” Potter promises. “First, go ask Madam Pomfrey to braid your hair for you.”

Holly trots off without question.

First turning to the Chasers, Potter asks, “You girls warmed up?”

They nod simultaneously.

“Dean and I will lead this lot in a warm-up. You get the training plan from Professor McGonagall and set up the equipment in the circuit I’ve outlined.”

“Yes, boss,” Bell grins and flounces off to her Head of House.

Turning back to the group, he says, “You can hang up your robes on those hooks near the door.”

Severus reluctantly turns to shed his robes. Trying not to show his self-consciousness, he takes off his robe and hangs it on the hook in a nonchalant way.

“Why are you wearing those?”  Draco’s voice takes on an incredulous tone.

He turns to the boy, ready to snap but his godson is looking at his father, who is wearing shorts similar to Potter and Thomas. Severus’s brows rise. He wasn’t aware that Lucius even owned such clothes.

“I told you, Draco,” Lucius says icily, “shorts are perfectly acceptable attire.”

Had Lucius been an insecure man with body image issues, Severus is sure that he would have been tugging on the hems of his short self-consciously. Suddenly, Severus is more grateful for his own covered flesh and that of his students.

“Those sweatpants you’re wearing work well enough,” Potter explains as they gather back in the centre, “but for certain types of exercises, shorts work better for manoeuvrability purposes, and also, when you’re working out, it can get really hot so they’re better for cooling down. It’s all down to personal preference.”

They move to the middle, waiting expectantly for instructions.

“While the girls are setting up the circuit, we’ll go through some basic stretches and warm-up exercises. First, we’ll do two laps around the room. Follow the yellow line on the floor. Once you’re done with those, come back here to the middle, and we’ll go through some stretches. Remember, this isn’t a race. You don’t need to be the first one back. Pace yourselves.”

Potter joins them in their laps and sets off at a steady pace, followed by Thomas. Severus trails at the very back. Given his height and long legs, Severus can easily walk at a brisk pace and not feel out of breath. However, the slow jog he’s set for himself already has him puffing, which he does as discretely as he is able, and he’s barely passed the first corner of the first lap. Draco, contrary to Potter’s instructions, races ahead of the pack, overtaking Potter and Thomas, throwing them a smug look over his shoulder as he continues to run. The Gryffindor boys ignore the blonde boy, keeping their pace steady and their breathing even. Something Severus finds himself struggling with, to his dismay. He’s always considered himself fit. He eats healthily, participates in regular duelling sessions with Lucius, he occasionally swims in the summer. He’s used to heavy lifting, having done so with weighty cauldrons and hefty crates of ingredients. Why, then, is this making him feel so out of shape?

Part of him is tempted to run faster like Draco, just so he can be done with his two laps sooner, but he forces himself to keep his current pace. Nott and Daphne Greengrass struggle and are only just ahead of Severus. To his surprise, Zabini, Astoria and Davis maintain a steady pace, easily able to keep up with Lucius, who calmly jogs behind Thomas and Potter.

Draco is already huffing and panting for breath, bent double as he stops halfway through the first lap. He glares resentfully as Potter and the others overtake him. Severus pauses only long enough to pat him on his back in encouragement. Draco is forced to slow down as he keeps pace with Severus instead.

By the time the two laps are completed, Severus is afraid his face is redder than the scarlet of Gryffindor. Draco gratefully collapses in the middle where Potter said to meet, on his knees as he tries to get his breath back.

“Get a drink of water,” Potter calls out, already heading in the direction of the water fountain. “Take small sips and drink it slowly.”

Defying suggestions yet again, Draco grabs the glass of water Lucius thoughtfully hands him, hands another to Severus, and guzzles it down greedily.

“Slow down, Draco,” Lucius snaps but is ignored.

Severus drinks his own slowly, willing his heart to stop racing. Potter and Thomas barely look like they’ve exerted any effort. Only the light sheen across Lucius’s forehead and his quicker-than-usual breathing show that he’s affected.

The Chasers have already set up a number of apparatus and various bits of equipment while the Slytherins did their warm-up run.

“Spread out,” Potter orders as they all meet in the middle after getting rid of their waters, “and find a space.”

Deliberately, Severus plants himself firmly at the back of the group, where Lucius accompanies him. He finds himself doubly glad of being at the back, feeling ridiculously self-conscious of all the warm-up exercises and stretches Potter and Thomas put them through. His face is blotchy, and they’ve not even started the actual exercises yet.

Draco, unlike Severus, has plonked himself right at the front. His usually pale face is suffused with pink, his hair already a mess.

He has to put all this out of his mind as Potter talks them through doing the splits. He and Thomas demonstrate it effectively, their legs stretched out in opposite directions. The Chasers and Holly all adopt the same positions with ease that comes from regular practice. He’s too busy concentrating on himself to see Astoria, Davis, Nott and Zabini showing surprising flexibility.

“Anybody who wants some help stretching, shout out if you want to go deeper,” Potter calls to the group, coming up from his split.

Zabini calls for assistance. Potter goes over and gently pulls one ankle further as Zabini grimaces and huffs and groans until the boy feels stretched enough.

“Me too, Potter,” Lucius huffs out.

Potter comes over to the blond and carefully does the same. Lucius is slowly eased into a deeper split until he gestures for the boy to stop.

“Me ... as well, Potter!” Draco says through gritted teeth.

However, instead of Potter, he gets Thomas, who gently helps Draco stretch further.

“Can I get some help too?” Astoria calls out.

Bell, who is closest, gets up from her splits and moves over to help. Potter makes them hold that position for ten seconds longer than Severus feels he is able to before releasing them.

“All right, shake out your legs and get yourself some more water.”

 Severus’s muscles are already aching. Dismayed, he realises the stretches have only taken ten minutes. How much more of this will he have to take?

Once they return from their second water break, Potter begins the workout in earnest. This is by far the most demanding physical activity he has ever done, he admits to himself. Potter gives them a series of push ups, sit-ups, squats, lunges and various other exercises to do, all set up in a circuit. They are all told to pair off, though due to their odd numbers, one person is left alone.

 They are all timed for thirty seconds each but feel like millennia to Severus. Partway through, he takes the hair tie floated to him by Minerva and gratefully ties his hair back.

“Take your time with these exercises,” Potter says as he walks around and corrects everyone’s positions. “I would rather you do one good push-up than fifty bad ones.”

Potter expertly explains the purpose of each exercise, the muscles it targets and why the quality of each exercise is essential.

Severus reluctantly admits the corrections Lucius quietly directs him through target the requisite muscle once he’s shown how to do it correctly. If Lucius isn’t the one directing him, it’s Thomas who works as Potter’s assistant and walks around like Potter.

They have only switched exercises three times before they are joined by more people. To his horror, the newcomers are the Weasley twins and Longbottom. The Gryffindors have all been completing advanced versions of each exercise, which some of the more ambitious Slytherins attempt to emulate. Severus struggles with the basics, unfortunately as his arms feel limp as cooked spaghetti. 

Potter leaves Thomas to supervise as he moves off to the side to speak to the newcomers. After a quiet conversation, Longbottom and the Weasleys move off to shed their own robes and begin their series of warm-ups without further prompting.

Potter adds more equipment to the circuit to accommodate the extra people. Apparently, they were going to be joined soon by more Gryffindors. Great!

Holly, who merrily joins them in all their exercises, stops partway through.

“Harry,” she whines, but before she can say anything further, Potter says, “Madame Pomfrey has breakfast ready for you.”

The boy doesn’t even pause to ask what she wants as he continues walking around helping the others. However, Holly happily skips off to the duo at the table, who, having heard, summon an elf to order breakfast.

Longbottom and the Weasleys, having finished their warms-ups, move to join them, but Potter pauses the whole workout to give them another water break. Something Severus is imminently grateful for.

To his further horror, they’re joined by another newcomer, Wayne Hopkins.

He greets Potter and his posse enthusiastically.

“Thanks for coming, Wayne,” he hears Potter say quietly. “I’ve already told Holly that you’ll be working with her. She’s looking forward to it.”

“Great,” Hopkins beams as Severus frowns. Why would Potter want Hopkins to teach Holly? What could the Hufflepuff possibly teach? The boy barely gave his classwork the attention it deserved. Severus couldn’t simply fathom what worthwhile thing the boy could teach his daughter.

Potter walks over to the breakfast table and quietly converses with Holly, who stares over at Hopkins with excitement.

“After you finish eating,” Potter says firmly as he walks away.

Potter takes them through another fifteen minutes worth of exercise before stopping for another break.

As Severus gratefully gulps down two glasses of water, he takes stock of his students. Draco looks awful; his usually pale face is a blotchy pink, sweat plastering his hair to his scalp worse than the ridiculous gel he likes to lacquer his hair with. The boy pushed himself needlessly, in Severus’s opinion. He’d been attempting the advanced techniques and failed miserably, not to mention resentfully, consistently trying to needle Potter on one pretext or another.

Parkinson and the elder Greengrass look exhausted and ready to collapse, much like himself. Nott fares slightly better, though he, too, looks like he will have to be lifted from his seated position on the floor. Zabini, Greengrass the younger and Davis all look surprisingly invigorated.

Lucius, too, despite the sweat dripping down his face and the damp tee clinging to his body, looks ready for more. Severus reminds himself that Lucius has been coming to the gym regularly for almost two months. He’s built up his stamina and endurance. He looks to Holly, firmly reminding himself that she’s the reason he’s here at all.

“All right, I think we’ll end it here for the newcomers,” Potter announces. “You all look pretty exhausted, and it’s wiser not to overdo it your first time if you’re planning on returning at some point.”

Poppy stands up and chivvies everyone to seats Minerva conjures up for everyone. Severus gratefully sinks into the chair, that Minerva has thoughtfully applied a Warming Charm to that does wonders for his aching muscles, helped along with Muscle soothers that Poppy is doling out.

Apart from the Slytherin students, the rest of the students head back to the middle of the room to continue with more exercises. Thomas takes over training while Potter and Holly move onto some bizarre-looking contraptions, such as a narrow strip of wood two feet above the ground. And some dangling rings from the ceiling.

Lucius, who opts to sit next to Severus, sedately sipping his water, says in a low voice, “Holly is about to jump onto the balance beam.”

He’s referring to the narrow strip of wood.

“What’s that for?” Severus asks, his voice just as low.

“It’s her preferred gymnastics activity,” Lucius replies. “They’re both amazing to watch.”

Severus holds the scowl as he realises his brother also means Potter. Like anything Potter could do would be amazing, Severus scoffs silently.

Still, watching the other students in their exercises and how effortlessly they complete each repetition is mesmerising in itself.

Lucius nudges him and directs his attention back to Holly, who climbs onto the balance beam. Under Potter’s watchful eyes, along with several others, Holly begins her performance. How she carefully balances on the narrow strip of wood without stumbling, how she gracefully navigates it, with her arms stretched overhead. Like a dancer, she hops, twists and completes her cartwheels, tucks and jumps. Her flexibility and agility are stunning to watch. She ends her routine with a flourish and a huge, beaming smile after she dismounts with an agile flip.  

Next, it is Potter’s turn, who performs a few light stretches and effortlessly jumps up to grab the hanging rings.

“Potter is even more impressive on the rings,” Lucius mutters lightly.

Severus rolls his eyes. How can the boy be more impressive than his child? Nothing could top Holly’s performance.

Potter swings easily on the rings. Showing off as he somersaults in the air, twisting and turning at great speed as he easily manipulates his body and still stays aloft. His Slytherin students watch with jaws dropped.

“Is that a common muggle practice?” he hears Nott ask.

Thomas explains, “Common among trained gymnasts.”

Potter and the others take turns spotting each other as they continue with more exercises. Hopkins and the Weasleys twins keep mucking about as they copy Hopkins as he performs a handstand, his t-shirt riding down, exposing his well-defined abs, no doubt due to years of hard work.

Severus has to clear his throat pointedly as the girls (along with Nott, and to a lesser extent, Draco and Zabini) stare at Hopkins’s half-naked body, as well as the bodies of the Weasley boys.

Unnoticed, the boys and girls continue their exercises. Potter and Longbottom also demonstrate their handstand; however, their t-shirts stay stationary. Nott tears his gaze away from the Gryffindors (plus the only Hufflepuff), but Draco’s gaze burns in Potter’s direction.

Severus tunes out Thomas’s explanations. He’ll have to read those Gymnastics books that Lucius gave him several weeks ago. He absently takes another potion Poppy hands him as he continues to stare at Holly as she avidly watches Potter perform, giggling and laughing in a carefree manner that Severus has never heard in his presence before.