“They will be okay.”

Severus managed not to react when Alexei came up next to him despite being tucked away in a corner and Disillusioned. He just gave the vampire a sidelong glance before returning his gaze to the crowded platform.

“Leif and I will be there,” Alexei added.

“And why is that?” Severus said, keeping half his attention on the two boys.

“Lady Magic has been busy,” Alexei said. “A document appeared in the archives declaring me and Leif the mentors of Draco and Harry. They have been legally made our apprentices.”

Severus pulled his eyes from the boys, frowning at Alexei. “How is that possible?”

Alexei gave him a wry smile. “Lady Magic knows what she wants. There is a powerful force around those boys and it is bringing us all in.”

“Magic created a legal apprenticeship contract?” Severus said, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“Is it truly that hard to believe considering the magic those two have and all we’ve discovered?” Alexei said, gesturing back out to the crowds.

Severus turned back in time to see the very obviously deliberate shoulder-check Malfoy gave Potter. Harsh comments were said, but, even from his distance, Severus could see the lack of sincerity in their faces. Malfoy disappeared onto the train, leaving just Potter and his friends in view.

“We will be able to help protect them, but we won’t be at Hogwarts all the time,” Alexei said. “You need to protect them too.”

“We cannot risk it,” Severus said, watching Potter argue with his friends.

“You have protected Harry with no one knowing for the last four years,” Alexei said. “Keep doing that and help Draco. It is going to be a hard year for both of them.”

Severus sighed lightly and watched Potter board the train. There was a stirring in his gut as he lost sight of the boys and he frowned, unfamiliar with the feeling. The tightening in his chest he did recognize as worry. He’d felt it consistently every time he heard or saw the next ridiculous stunt Potter had performed or danger Potter had put himself in.

The train’s whistle echoed across the platform and all the students began flooding onto the train.

“Moy drug,” Alexei said, putting a hand on Severus’ arm. Severus turned to look at him. “We will take care of them, but they need you as well. They need more than just protection, as do you.”

Severus said nothing, watching his friend head towards the Hogwarts Express and board. The platform emptied of students, leaving behind smiling, crying, and waving families as the train whistled again before beginning to move. Severus found himself stepping forward to watch the train leave the station, frowning at the odd twisting in his stomach.

Once the train was gone, he shook his head at himself and quickly left the platform, heading back to the place where he had left Malfoy. He Disapparated away, appearing at the edge of Hogsmeade village. He put his hands in his pockets and began the trek up to Hogwarts, allowing his thoughts, for the time, to float to Potter and Malfoy.

He could admit to himself that it already felt strange to not have the two boys and their magic around. It had come to feel normal to have Potter and Malfoy around, to feel their magic constantly, and, if he was honest, a part of him felt…bereft. The two boys had become surprisingly pleasant company, having turned out to be vastly different from what he’d believed. It had been…difficult to have Potter become so angry and distant as a result of the prophecy discovery. The relationship between the three of them had been consistently rocky all summer, but there was still something that had developed and it had made the end of summer difficult to accept. Despite what Leif and Alexei said, he knew what he had to do. He could not remain attached to the boys, not if they were to all be safe. He could not fathom putting them in danger and, if that meant he had to abandon them and the summer they had, he would do so. Their safety from Voldemort was more important than anything.

Dumbledore was right. They all had roles and those roles could not entangle further.

He sighed as he pushed into his rooms, needing to prepare for the arrival of the students. He was heading for his bedroom when he noticed a door in the back-left corner of the room, behind and to the left of the raised area that held his desk. His eyebrows furrowed. That door had never been there before. He crossed the room, passing the desk and sitting area and kitchen. As he approached, he raised a hand to open it, only to have the door shimmer and to feel strong magic. He frowned. What was preventing him from opening the door? What room had been added without his consent and why? Whose magic was he feeling? It felt familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

He hovered his palm over the magical barrier covering the door, his frown deepening as it pulsed and he felt a wave of warmth wash over him. It was similar to what he’d felt each time Potter and Malfoy had interacted with him with their magic.

He pulled away, unsettled, and headed back to his bedroom with a final confused glance at the mysterious door.

He spent the next few hours preparing. He gathered and sorted all the timetables to be handed out during dinner. He set up his office and classroom, readying it for the first day of classes. He read the missives from Dumbledore and McGonagall regarding the new Defense professor, OWLs, NEWTs, the schedule of Hogsmeade visits, and the first staff meeting. The bell rang out, then, signalling the looming arrival of the students, and he changed into his teaching robes, donning his signature heavy outer robe.

Taking a deep breath and clearing his mind, he left his rooms and headed up to the Great Hall. He entered alongside Flitwick and Sinistra, inclining his head in greeting to the both of them as he passed behind the Head Table to his seat. He was at the far-right end in order to better see his Slytherins though, this time, there were an additional two seats to his right.

“Take your seats,” Dumbledore said as he entered the hall and all the staff sat, gazing out at the doors to await the students.

They didn’t have to wait long as the doors opened and a flood of students poured in, chattering loudly and splitting off to their tables. Severus frowned at the small group of Slytherins that appeared to have some bruising and moved as though injured. His eyes narrowed when, at the back of the crowd, Malfoy entered with Leif and Potter with Weasley, Granger, and Alexei. Malfoy had very clear damage to his face and he was tense, likely partly due to his magic reacting to the hundreds of signatures around him. Leif said something to the blonde, gaining a small nod, before walking over to Alexei and Potter, saying something to the Gryffindor as well. He raised an eyebrow when Malfoy and Potter glanced at each other before going to their respective tables, Potter being pulled along by his annoyed-looking friends. Leif and Alexei walked up the Great Hall and took the seats to Severus’ right.

“There was a problem on the train,” Leif whispered. “Harry and Draco are okay. We’ll explain later.”

Severus frowned at the twist of worry he felt at the news, looking at the two boys again. Malfoy was sitting on his own except for Blaise Zabini nearby. He was staring at his empty plate, his shoulders tense, and he narrowed his eyes at the Death Eater children shooting the blonde glares. At Gryffindor table, Potter was whispering intently with Weasley and Granger, all three seeming to be angry.

He had no more time to contemplate as McGonagall entered with the first years.

“…I just know that, if we work together, we can ensure you the best education and we can become wonderful friends.”

The disgust Harry felt towards Dolores Umbridge was overwhelming, and, based on the murmuring around him, he wasn’t the only one. He scanned the staff, seeing the same disgust and anger reflected in them. He had to quickly look away to keep from laughing at the expression on Snape’s face. He glanced over Ron’s shoulder at the Slytherin table, finding Malfoy sitting pretty much alone. The blonde looked up and met his gaze. Harry flicked his eyes at Umbridge and raised an eyebrow. Malfoy responded with an eye roll and they both smirked, dropping their heads to their still empty plates so no one else noticed.

The interaction made Harry wonder if maybe he and Malfoy could keep talking, maybe even hang out. It wouldn’t put either of them in more danger. Malfoy was already a known traitor and Harry was, well, Harry. He glanced at the Slytherin again.

Could they be friends?

Did he want to be?

He frowned slightly, looking at Ron and Hermione. She was explaining Umbridge’s speech to Ron in an annoyed, hissed whisper. What would they think if he tried to be friendly with Malfoy? They already didn’t like that he had helped the Slytherin on the train. If being friends with Malfoy was something he wanted, would he have to choose? Would he lose Ron and Hermione?

He jumped when magic rushed across the table and it filled with food. He looked up to see Dumbledore leaving the podium and returning to his seat. Whatever the headmaster had said, he hadn’t heard it. What he did hear was Ron and Hermione taking advantage of the end of the Welcoming Feast announcements to resume laying into him.

“Come on, mate, tell us what the hell happened on the train,” Ron said, piling his pate high. “Why did you help Malfoy?”

Harry sighed. “Because he needed help. Why wouldn’t I help if I could?”

“Because he’s a Slytherin, a snake, a bastard. Because he’s Malfoy,” Ron snapped.

Harry glared at him, getting irritated himself. “None of that is really a reason to let someone get hurt or killed.”

Ron gaped at him. “You’re mad,” he said. “Spending all summer alone really addled your brain.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Harry said. “I had Leif and Alexei there.”

“Only for the last few weeks, you said,” Ron pointed out and Harry rolled his eyes.

“And how well do you know them?” Hermione asked. “Did you know Alexei is—"

“A vampire?” Harry said, raising an eyebrow when Hermione nodded, looking worried. “Of course I know that. I was with him nearly every day for weeks.”

“Can you trust him?” Hermione said.

Harry frowned at her. “Are you saying I can’t because he’s a vampire?”

“Well, it’s just that vampires—”

“Lupin was a werewolf and you trusted him just fine,” Harry said, feeling his anger build. “How is Alexei any different?”

“Lupin was a friend of your father’s…” Hermione said.

“Yeah, well, so was Pettigrew, if you remember,” Harry said. “Just because someone knew my father, it doesn’t mean they’re saints.”

“Werewolves also have the Wolfsbane Potion, Harry,” Hermione argued. “They have a way to control themselves. Vampires don’t have anything like that and they’re known to go rogue for really no reason.”

“Well, he hasn’t done anything except help me, so leave it alone,” Harry said.

“Harry, we’re just worried about you,” Hermione said. “You seem different.”

Because I am. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, mate. We hardly see or hear from you all summer and then you show up with all of this power and you’re concerned about Malfoy,” Ron said.

Harry clenched his hand around his fork. “I’m sorry, is my mood upsetting you? I’ve been a bit busy having horribly painful visions of people being tortured, murdered, and sentenced to death at fifteen. Until you have a mental connection to a madman, shut up and leave it alone.”

“Harry!” Hermione gasped, clearly offended.

Harry just dropped his glare to his roast, stabbing it far more aggressively than was necessary. He could feel his magic sizzling under the surface as it responded to his anger. He couldn’t let it out, though, couldn’t announce to all of Hogwarts and a Ministry spy the power he had. It would only convince them all that he was dangerous. He curled his empty hand in a fist, thinking about Malfoy and Snape. He wished he could have their magic to help…could have them to help.

A parchment being shoved into his face also worked as a satisfactory distraction for his antsy magic. He blinked and grabbed it, realizing it was his timetable.

It was going to be a busy year, though, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised given it was OWLs year. While he did have at least one free period a day—double free periods on Wednesdays and Fridays—there were also a few double periods of classes and most had three classes a week rather than the two they’d had the last four years. It took far longer than it should have for him to notice one key change; rather than Divination, he had Ancient Runes.

His eyes flew up to Snape in shock.

Despite how terrible he’d been and how tense it had been, the professor had still sent in the course change request for him? Why would he do that? After everything that had come out about the prophecy and Snape only ever doing things for him because Dumbledore forced him to and out of guilt, why would Snape have still helped him change courses?

He frowned, hating how confused Snape made him feel.

“Oi! Why aren’t you in Divination?” Ron exclaimed, snatching Harry’s timetable from his fingers.

Harry scowled, sighing in frustration. “I asked Dumbledore if I could switch and he agreed.”

“But why?” Ron whined.

Harry rolled his eyes, snatching the parchment back. “Because Divination is useless, and Alexei said runes and Elemental Magic can be used together.”

“So, the vampire made you switch?” Ron said.

Harry glowered. “Alexei didn’t make me switch. He suggested and I agreed. I want to learn as much as I can about my magic, okay?”

Ron met his glare with furrowed eyebrows. “What’s going on with you? Helping Malfoy, following vampires, switching classes without saying anything, fighting Gryffindors with your weird magic…”

“Tell me what you really think,” Harry snapped. “I guess it’s escaped your notice, but everything’s changed. Gryffindors can be enemies, Slytherins can be allies. I’ve got ancient rare magic and Voldemort is back. Take a look around. Nothing is simple. Everything has changed, so catch up.”

He slammed his fork down and stood quickly, storming from the hall. Once again, his magic was buzzing, desperate to explode with his anger. He clenched his fists, crumpling his timetable, and tried to breathe evenly to keep his magic down. He looked down at his hands and cursed quietly when he saw the light multicoloured strands encircling his fists. His magic was leaving him and would explode outwards if he didn’t get it under control.

He hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, keeping his breathing steady. He sat heavily on his bed once in the dorm and dropped his crushed timetable beside him. He stared down at his hands, at the threads twisting through his fingers. He raised one hand, palm up, and focused on the red wisps, encouraging them to break away from the others. The red threads tangled together in his palm and he pushed the power to build. The red threads pulsed and grew warm and then a small flame appeared in his palm, the threads a dancing core. He smiled at the small flame. It hadn’t been long that Alexei had him working with his Fire Magic. It had come far easier than the other elements, able to produce his own heat and fire instantly while the other elements he could only manipulate existing ones so far.

He smiled somewhat sadly and extinguished the flame, dropping his hands into his lap, and watching his colourful tendrils disappear as his magic finally calmed. He was thrilled Leif and Alexei were at Hogwarts and he could continue training, but it also made him think of the summer. He didn’t know if he should or wanted to continue whatever had clearly started that summer. It would be complicated between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors. He also couldn’t stop thinking about Snape. He was furious with the professor for being a part of his parents’ deaths and for lying to him about it. He was furious that any changes that summer were nothing more than manipulation so Snape could make himself feel better and do whatever Dumbledore had ordered. He was also furious that there was a part of him that wanted to just push that all aside and see if Snape could change even more. A pretty large part of him wanted the Snape of summer to be real and he didn’t want to pretend the summer had never happened.

Remembering the little things and the feel of Snape’s and Malfoy’s magic, he wasn’t sure he could pretend even if he wanted to. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and got to his feet. He moved to the foot of his bed and knelt down, opening his trunk to unpack. Upon lifting the lid, he frowned.

There on top of all his belongings were two books that were not at all part of the school books for the year. He picked them up to examine, finding one to be on Elemental Magic and the other a Muggle novel called The Hobbit. The Elemental Magic book was obviously from Alexei, but he wasn’t sure about the novel. He opened it and blinked at the message written inside the cover.

Mr. Potter,

I believe you could enjoy an adventure in which you are not the one in mortal peril.

Happy belated birthday.

S. Snape

Snape had given him a birthday present?

He stared at the book. It was well-read. It wasn’t torn or bent, but it had clearly been read many times. It was obviously one of Snape’s own books and he gave it to Harry. Why would he do that? Was he trying to get Harry’s forgiveness? Was he trying to trick Harry?

Harry frowned, confused about how he should feel. Nothing Snape had done implied he was manipulating Harry or looking for forgiveness. Considering nothing about the prophecy and Snape’s connection to his parents had been mentioned until Harry brought them up, he was uncertain his forgiveness was part of Snape’s motive. Maybe it was the redemption Dumbledore mentioned, though, giving him a Muggle novel didn’t seem like it would do anything towards getting redemption. Snape had said protecting him was part of Dumbledore’s terms to help him get redemption. He wondered what other terms there were.

Shaking his head, he put the two books on his bedside table before tucking his school books in the table’s cubby, realizing as he did so that the books for Ancient Runes had been included for him. Snape must have bought them for him as well when ordering his and Malfoy’s books for them. He hung his clothes in the shared wardrobe, charmed to give each of them their own space by recognizing whoever touched the door. He left his invisibility cloak, the Marauder’s Map, and other personal belongings in his trunk, except his journal. Closing his trunk, he returned to his bed, staring at the journal.

He wondered how Malfoy and Snape were feeling, what the summer had meant to them. Maybe he could still talk to them with the journal. Would he really want to though? Would they?

At the sound of his dormmates’ voices, he had no more time to think about the two Slytherins. He slipped the journal into his drawer, and gave Ron and the others a tight smile, sighing quietly at the hateful glares from Dean and Seamus.

Draco walked into the Slytherin common room, letting out a quiet sigh of relief mixed with a groan. Being in the Great Hall had been torture with the hundreds of student magical signatures and the addition of all the staff signatures. His magic felt like it was ripping him apart, unable to handle the overload and lack of compatible magic. Leif, Alexei, Snape, and Potter were lost in the mess, leaving his magic adrift in the sea of magic, wanting to connect to every signature because they were there while hating each signature for not being Potter or Snape. Quite frankly, his magic felt like an anxious, spoiled brat that wasn’t getting what it wanted and was throwing a tantrum.

He had no idea what to do about it.

Stepping into the common room provided some relief as he was finally separated from the bulk of the magic. His magic was still swirling around almost painfully and he was trembling lightly keeping it under control, but it was still better than the Great Hall.

What hadn’t changed from the Great Hall was the glares he received from the other Slytherins. Those that had attacked him on the train, the Carrow twins, and all the others he knew to be Death Eater offspring hadn’t stopped glaring at him all through dinner. Those glares had resumed now he’d entered the common room. He was tense, unsure what would happen to him now they were away from the staff and other students. He hated to admit it, but he was terrified.

He watched with narrowed eyes as Nott strolled up to him with the Carrows.

“You never should’ve come back to Hogwarts, Malfoy,” Nott said.

“But then you wouldn’t get the chance to try and be competent,” Draco said. “Though, based on what happened on the train, I think a lot more practice is in order.”

Nott sneered. “You’d be dead if your pet Potter hadn’t shown up. A traitor and so weak you need Potter to save you? Pathetic.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m free,” Draco said. “How do you like being on your knees for a half-blood because that’s your future.”

Nott growled and pulled his wand, but any action on his part was interrupted when Blaise Zabini came up beside Draco.

“Problem, Theo?” Zabini said lightly, his hands casually in his trouser pockets.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Nott snapped. “See, there’s a price on this traitor’s head and I intend to deliver.”

“So I’ve heard,” Zabini said and Draco looked at the black boy curiously. “However, I would recommend you leave Draco alone.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’re you gonna do? You’re just as much of a traitor,” Nott said. “We’d be more than happy to…spread the love between you.”

“You know perfectly well what I can do,” Zabini said. “You remember my father, don’t you? I’m sure your father does.”

Draco saw Nott’s jaw twitch and he wondered what history existed between the Nott and Zabini patriarchs. He watched Zabini step up to Nott and lean in to be beside Nott’s ear.

“I suggest you leave Draco alone unless you find yourself in desperate need of a reminder about my family,” Zabini said quietly, but still loud enough for Draco to hear. Zabini stepped back, a sickly-sweet smile on his face as his only reaction to Nott’s glower. Despite the anger twisting Nott’s face, the bobbing Adam’s apple told Draco it was hiding Nott’s fear at Zabini’s threat.

Nott sneered at Zabini and then at Draco. “He can’t be around all the time, traitor.”

Draco glared. “I don’t need him to be.”

“We’ll see,” Nott spat and walked away, the Carrow girls following.

Draco tracked them as they joined Goyle, Crabbe, and Pansy. Others were staring, curious for those not a part of the whole Death Eater or Dark Arts circle. Others that were, like Ivan MacNair and William Avery, were glaring at him, likely trying to figure out when to take their shot as instructed. He ignored them all and turned to Zabini. He didn’t know the boy very well. The Zabinis weren’t in the same circles as the Malfoys, so they’d never really interacted. It just made it all the more confusing why Zabini had helped him.

Zabini turned to him, the mocking smile turning into one of sincerity. “Glad to see we were right about you.”

Draco frowned but looked when Zabini gestured to a corner of armchairs where Adelaide Murton, Daphne Greengrass, and Simon Carlisle sat watching them. All fifth years, but also Slytherins he didn’t know. He looked back at Zabini.

“We all knew you weren’t like them,” Zabini said, nodding his head at Nott and the others. “It never really seemed to be…you.”

Draco stiffened. “What do you know?” he said defensively.

Zabini shrugged. “Nothing, really. It was just a guess and it turned out to be right.”

“What do you want?” Draco asked, unable to believe Zabini had any interest in his life for no reason.

“Nothing,” Zabini said. “You’ve got yourself in quite the mess though.”

“None of your business, is it?” Draco snapped.

“No, but looks like you’ve made yourself a lot of enemies with very specific instructions,” Zabini said.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Never said you couldn’t, but,” Zabini paused and gazed around the common room before looking at him again, “back up is always nice when you’re the rat in a snake pit.”

Draco glared and watched Zabini cross the common room to join the three in the corner. Feeling suitably rattled, he crossed the common room as well, but in the opposite direction to shove through the door that led to the fifth-year dormitories. He found the door with his name, blinking dumbly at his roommate’s name: Blaise Zabini. Why was Zabini his roommate? He’d been rooming with Avery since first year.

He shook his head and pushed his way into the dorm, throwing himself on his bed and drawing the curtains. He stared up at the green canopy, his mind and magic racing. In here, the pull on his magic was less intense, but it was still riled up. It wanted to be let loose, wanted the touch of other magic it couldn’t have. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, hoping that by letting his magic do something, it would settle. He pushed his magic out, seeing his silver-white threads rush away to find something. He was surprised to see a few small multicoloured tendrils mixed in with his and he vaguely remembered waking up after his attack on the train. He still had some of Potter’s magic mixed with his.

He dove deeper to see the magic around him and found himself awed at the systems he saw. Little wisps of gold were everywhere, many with black spots, but it was the large, nearly blinding braids that he couldn’t look away from. Thick cords of glimmering gold with spots of green, red, blue, and yellow were braided together and snaked through the air and other signatures. He watched them before guiding his magic to wrap around one, drawing in a gasp at the rush he felt when his magic touched the thick braid.

He was filled with the greatest power he’d ever felt. As his magic twirled around the rope, he was also filled with strong emotions of affection, protectiveness, and acceptance. Memories were pulled from his unconscious and, behind his closed eyelids, he watched various moments from the summer, moments shared with Snape and Potter, and some with Leif and Alexei.

By the time he became so overwhelmed with the magic and emotions and memories that he had to end his magical exploration, he realized whose magic he’d been interacting with. He had just found and felt the magic of Hogwarts, the magic of the Founders. Aside from the sheer power the Founders clearly had, he’d also felt the depth of their bond, their friendship, the love they had for each other and the school. He could feel their intent for Hogwarts to feel like home and that intent had pulled forth his memories. It was like the Founders wanted him to acknowledge Prince Manor as ‘home’, but it wasn’t, it couldn’t be…could it?

He frowned, staring back up at his canopy. Could a place become ‘home’ after only seven weeks, especially when he’d been with people he hated? Though, that wasn’t the case, was it? Not anymore. Hate was not something he attributed to Snape or Potter anymore.

He sighed, wishing they were back at Prince Manor. Everything seemed easier there. He was fairly certain it was going to be difficult to pretend he hadn’t spent seven weeks with Snape and Potter. They couldn’t interact with Snape at all, except as their hated professor, and he and Potter…well, was there anything stopping them? The world knew he was a traitor. Neither of them was going to be in more danger if they interacted in public.

Could they talk? Could they hang out?

Did he want to?

Would Potter want to?

He was startled out of his thoughts by the door to the dorm opening. He listened to who he assumed was Zabini shuffle around the room before the other Slytherin climbed into bed. He had to admit, he was glad Zabini was his dormmate. He at least didn’t have to worry about being murdered in his sleep.

He sighed again and rolled over, hoping to get some sleep despite his pounding thoughts.