“Something is going on!” Sirius shouted.

Harry just shook his head with a sigh, turning his head to look out the window. They were all up in Dumbledore’s office: Severus, Lucius, Alexei, Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, and Harry himself. It was three days after the ambush by Sirius and Lupin. Harry had hidden in the dungeons the entire weekend, ignoring all contact attempts. He still couldn’t believe Sirius and Lupin had attacked them. He knew they hated Severus but couldn’t believe the extent of it.

So now they were all up in the headmaster’s office, trying to resolve the situation but doing more yelling and insulting than anything else. Harry had quickly given up trying to explain anything and had sat on the window seat silently instead.

“There is some kind of enchantment or potion involved and I demand it be dealt with!” Sirius continued.

“How could you allow this to happen, Albus?” Lupin implored and Harry rolled his eyes. As if Dumbledore had had any part of the whole thing.

“I was unaware of this guardianship business,” Dumbledore said. “I certainly did not allow this to happen. I gave no permission or anything of the sort.”

“Your permission was not required,” Severus sneered. “All we needed was the documentation, a witness, and Ministry approval, all of which we got.”

“There is no possible way the Ministry approved such a request.” Dumbledore frowned.

“I know people,” Alexei spoke up casually.

“Who exactly are you?” Sirius snapped, looking over at the vampire.

“A friend,” Alexei and Harry said in unison, grinning at each other across the room.

Sirius growled angrily. “Who is he?” he asked Dumbledore.

“Alexei,” Dumbledore said, “the vampire friend of Severus and Lucius.”

“A vampire!” Sirius yelled. “You’ve let a vampire in the school, near my godson?”

“He’s not evil, Sirius,” Harry said, but was ignored.

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair before turning to Severus. He shoved a finger into the man’s face. “Whatever you’ve done, end it. Now. I won’t have you cursing and manipulating my godson. I don’t know what you’re getting out of this but it ends now.”

“He’s my guardian, Sirius, that’s not changing,” Harry said.

“It’s all lies, Harry,” Sirius said, never looking away from Severus. “You know he hates you. He hates all of us, including your father. He is manipulating you, trying to make you forget who you are. You’re a Potter and Potters don’t associate with Snape.”

Harry finally left his seat and walked around Sirius and Lupin, standing with the others. “My father didn’t associate with Snape. I’m not my father. Sorry to break this delusion of yours.”

“What’s happened to you?” Sirius said in a pained tone as though Harry had personally betrayed him.

“A lot, which you would know had you bothered to read my letters,” Harry said.

“I did read them,” Sirius said defensively.

“Then where were you?” Harry questioned quietly. “If you knew about everything, where were you? Where were you when Ron died? When Draco died? When I became a Champion? When I fought a dragon and grindylows? When I lost everything, where were you?”

“Harry, I—“

“You weren’t there, but they were.”

“I’m on the run, you know that.”

“Yet here you are. The moment something happens that you don’t personally like, you risk your life and come here.”

“Harry, you know that’s not true,” Sirius said.

“Really?” Harry said, looking at his godfather, pained. “I never got even a word from you during everything that’s happened. When Ron died, I needed you. I needed you so much but you weren’t there. You ignored me while I dealt with losing my best friend, something you should’ve been able to empathize with. When I needed you most, something else was more important to you.”

“Harry,” Sirius said, looking pained himself but also irritated. “It’s Snape.”

“So?” Harry said. “They may be just people and enemies to you, but they are everything to me.”

“They are nothing,” Sirius hissed and Harry frowned, his eyes narrowing.

“Alexei isn’t just a vampire. He’s the one that made sure I was free of the Dursleys but setting up the guardianship. He’s also my friend who tells me awesome stories, gives advice, and listens to me. Lucius isn’t just a Malfoy. He’s the one that’s saved my life, that’s taken care of me and cared about me even though we used to be enemies. He’s the one that lost his whole family this year and has become mine.

“Severus isn’t just Snape. He’s the one that’s done everything for me when he didn’t have to. We hated each other. Even when we still didn’t like each other, he helped me. He helped me after Ron and Draco, after Slytherins and Hermione attacked and turned on me. He’s helped me through this tournament. Without him, I wouldn’t have made it past the First Task. He saved me this year, Sirius.”

Sirius shook his head slowly. “How could you do this?”

“How could you?” Harry returned. He and Sirius stared at each other for a time before Harry sighed and turned. He met Alexei’s eyes. The vampire nodded and left the office with Harry.

“Albus,” Lupin said, turning back to the headmaster.

“I’m afraid I have no knowledge of this arrangement,” Dumbledore said. He looked over his glasses at Severus.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” Severus snapped.

“Like hell!” Sirius yelled. “That’s my godson!”

“Then act like it,” Severus said hatefully before sweeping out with Lucius.

Severus and Lucius entered Severus’ rooms to find only Alexei. There was no sign of Harry. They both cast questioning glances at the vampire who sighed.

“He went to the lab,” Alexei said, sitting on the sofa. “I think he is looking for a distraction.”

Severus nodded and went to his personal lab. He had finally allowed the boy access so that Harry could practice his brewing whenever he wanted. They were also to begin the detection potion for Harry soon. They had meant to start weeks earlier, but so many things kept pushing it back.

He entered the room quietly, finding Harry sitting at one of the long counters, brooding over that Mulligan book as he had been all year. The boy wasn’t reading or studying, he was staring blankly. Pain was etched across his face and Severus felt his heart ache with sympathy.

He hated Black and Lupin, and he always would, but that was him. They meant something to Harry, were people Harry thought he could trust, people Harry thought would be family. For Harry, this was all a betrayal.

As Severus stood there, silently watching the young boy, he realized he had no idea what to do now. His own feelings towards Lupin and Black were telling him to tell Harry to forget about them, but he couldn’t do that. The men were links to Harry’s parents, strong links. Black was the child’s godfather. He couldn’t tell Harry to forget them like they meant nothing.

So what did he do?

In the silence and Severus’ dilemma, a quiet sob broke through. Glancing back at the boy revealed Harry had folded over the table, buried his face, and now possessed trembling shoulders. Severus’ heart pulled and he approached his crying ward. Without a word, he placed a hand on Harry’s back as initial comfort. Harry took it further, instantly sitting up, turning, and wrapping his arms around his guardian’s waist, burying his face in Severus’ cloak.

“I hate him,” came Harry’s muffled voice.

Severus sighed, keeping his one hand on Harry’s back and putting the other on the back of the boy’s head. “No, you don’t, child.”

“I should.”

“Don’t,” Severus said quietly, gently messing with the black hair. “Don’t hate. Only sympathize and empathize. Never hate.”

Harry pulled back slightly, looking up at his guardian with red, watery eyes. “You hate them.”

Severus gave a sardonic smile. “And look at the kind of man I’ve become.”

“You’re the best man,” Harry replied quickly and honestly. Severus smiled down at the boy. He brushed the hair back from Harry’s forehead and kissed his head before pulling the child back into the embrace.

“Whose gravestone is it?” Harry asked, leaning back against the tree with Ron, watching the pouring rain and lightning.

Ron sighed. “I can’t tell you that,” he said. “You know something’s you…”

“Have to find out myself, I know,” Harry interrupted with his own sigh. He looked down at his lap. “I’m so done with everything, Ron.”

“I know,” Ron said sympathetically. “Things will get better.”

“You keep saying that, but so far it only seems like things are getting worse.”

“What about the guardianship?”

“That’s great. I’m really happy about that, but that’s also come at the expense of Sirius.”

“He just doesn’t understand,” Ron said.

“But why?” Harry said desperately. “Even my godfather doesn’t want me to be happy.”

“Then ignore him the way he did you. Severus and Lucius and Alexei…they’re the one that have helped you and make you happy. Focus on being with them and being happy.”

Harry just shook his head and looked back out at the rain. “I don’t know if I know what ‘happy’ is anymore, to be honest.”

Ron said nothing in response, but Harry did hear a quiet sigh come from his friend. He just continued to watch the never-ending storm.

Harry ran a hand over his face and stared down at his work. The study hall was nearly silent except for scratching quills, mumbled consultations, and the steady thump of Moody’s limp. Neville was sat across from him but he refused to look up in case he accidentally engaged the mad professor.

So he kept his eyes down and on his work. He was struggling with the Potions assignment they had been given. He had been getting slightly better at Potions since his relationship with Severus improved, but he still had a difficult time. He knew he could ask Severus for help but he felt like that could be considered cheating now the professor was his guardian. It didn’t seem right to ask his guardian for help when his guardian was a professor at his school. Severus could be accused of favouritism.

He would just have to figure it out on his own somehow.

He paused in his musings when he felt a presence behind him. He glanced at Neville from under his hair, finding his friend also looking at him. Neville gave a tiny head shake before going back to his work. From the twisting in his stomach, Harry knew exactly who was behind him.

“Potter,” the gruff voice of Moody said as the man clunked back a few steps so he was to Harry’s left rather than behind him.

He hesitated, but eventually Harry turned his head to look at the professor. He frowned at the man’s tongue darting out the corner of his mouth again.

“Headmaster wants ta see yeh,” Moody grumbled, his magical eye rolling wildly.

“Okay,” Harry said simply, gathering his things.

“No detours, Potter. There and back,” Moody said as Harry stood.

Harry just nodded, not sure how to respond and once again distracted by the man’s apparently involuntary tick. He left the study hall and almost rushed to Dumbledore’s office just to get away from Moody. He knocked on the door and was given entrance.

“Ah, Harry,” Dumbledore said cordially, standing from his chair behind the desk. “If you will give me a moment, there is something I must do before we have our little chat.”

“Of course,” Harry said and, with a smile, Dumbledore disappeared through one of the other doors at the back of the office.

Harry blew out a breath and gazed around the office. So many books and trinkets decorated the room, along with numerous portraits of what Harry assumed were previous headmasters. He thought he vaguely recognized Professor Dippet. He was much older in his portrait than he had been in Tom Riddle’s memory back in second year.

He brought his eyes to the other side and spotted the Sorting Hat on its usual top shelf. The memory of his sorting ceremony flitted through his mind. At first he saw nothing but Ron and he smiled sadly to himself at the memory. The it changed and he remembered how much the Hat wanted to put him in Slytherin. He frowned. Should he have been in Slytherin? If he did have a pat of Voldemort’s soul in him, was he like Voldemort? Was that the part of him that belonged in Slytherin? Belonging to Slytherin didn’t mean anything more than belonging to any of the other three houses. Hell, two of the men he cared for most and who cared about him were Slytherins.

Harry shook his head with a sigh. He moved to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk, but a quiet click made him pause.

With his eyebrows drawn together, he turned and found an intricate cupboard had opened. He frowned. Was it supposed to be open? Maybe Dumbledore hadn’t latched it properly. He gazed curiously at the large basin, noticing the shimmering liquid inside. The water cast a soft but bright blue light over the cabinet doors. He was drawn to the basin and his feet brought him over. He stared down at the surface, for a while only seeing his own reflection looking back at him.

Then it changed. His reflection disappeared and it was just shimmering water. Except for one thing. There was something small seemingly at the bottom of the basin. As he leaned closer it seemed to grow larger until he could make out human shapes. He leaned down, getting even closer to the water’s surface until he was submerged.

However, rather than simply getting wet, he found himself falling. He let out a surprised yell and then a grunt as he landed hard on his feet. He gazed around, realizing he was on the outskirts of the scene. The room was circular with many long rows of seats and tabletops lining it. They encircled and looked down at a single cage which stood in the center of the room. The cage was tall and narrow, made of black iron with about two dozen arrowheads on iron poles facing the inside. It looked horrific.

He moved forward towards the closest people sitting together in a section of the stands. He passed by a couple unnoticed and he realized he must be in a memory, just like with Tom Riddle’s diary in second year. As he got closer, his eyes widened as he recognized the younger but still familiar faces of Dumbledore, Moody, and, farther down, Barty Crouch.

He spun at a loud clanking noise only to find a man chained to a chair appearing in the cage, rising from the floor.

“Karkaroff?” he whispered to himself in disbelief. The man before him looked almost nothing like the man he knew as Durmstrang’s highmaster. This man was sickly pale and deathly thin. His hair was messy, lank, and greasy. His hands and fingernails were filthy and his eyes haunted, but also filled with a need for revenge. There was still the same sinister look in the black eyes.

“Igor Karkaroff, you have been brought here to provide names of known Death Eaters in exchange for your release from Azkaban,” Crouch said and Harry frowned.

Azkaban? Karkaroff was a Death Eater? He briefly flashed back to that night months ago when he had found Karkaroff and Moody in a room looking at Karkaroff’s arm. They must’ve been looking at the Dark Mark but why would Moody have been doing so? Wasn’t he an Auror, someone meant to catch Dark wizards like Death Eaters?

He shook his head and tuned back into the proceedings.

“Evan Rosier,” Karkaroff said in a shaky voice.

“Dead,” a woman to Crouch’s left said and Crouch gave Karkaroff a hard stare.

“Dead?” Karkaroff repeated in apparent surprise. “What about Dolohov? Antonin Dolohov?”

“Arrested,” the woman said again and Crouch appeared to be getting angry now.

“If you have nothing of value…” Crouch began.

“Wait, wait!” Karkaroff yelled. “MacNair and the Crabbes and the Goyles! Lucius Malfoy!”

“All have been or are under investigation,” Crouch said irritably and Karkaroff let out a wail of despair.

“Severus Snape! You-Know-Who’s right-hand man!” Karkaroff said desperately.

Dumbledore stood. “Severus Snape is a Death Eater no longer. He has been cleared of all accusations and crimes, and is now a spy for the Light.”

“Lies!” Karkaroff hissed.

“The prisoner has given no new information,” Crouch said. “Return him to Azkaban.”

“No, wait!” Karkaroff shouted, grasping the bars of the cage. “There is another! One who aided in the torture of the Longbottoms!”

Everyone fell silent and looked at Karkaroff intently.

“Alongside Bellatrix Lestrange,” Karkaroff said, calming and quieting as he realized he had the room’s attention. “He has been feeding inside Ministry information directly to the Dark Lord.”

“Give a name,” Crouch demanded.

Karkaroff gave a twisted smirk. “Barty Crouch Jr.,” he said in a quiet but satisfied tone.

Everyone gasped and turned to a young man that had quickly risen from his seat and had been trying to sneak out. He was hit with a Tripping Charm and he went crashing to the floor. The room was in an uproar and Ministry officials rushed to restrain the accused man.

Harry jumped to his feet to keep everything in sight. They hauled Crouch Jr. to his feet, and father and son locked eyes.

“Father,” Crouch Jr. hissed and Crouch’s face hardened.

“I have no son,” he whispered and his son was dragged from the room.

Harry stared as they passed. Crouch Jr. was impeccably dressed. He had well-combed brown hair and a young, square face. However, there was truly only one thing Harry noticed before he was pulled from the memory.

An involuntary tick that caused the man’s tongue to dart out of his mouth periodically.

He landed back in Dumbledore’s office, his mind spinning.

“Curiosity can be dangerous.”

Harry whirled around at the headmaster’s voice. “I’m...I’m really sorry. I really didn’t mean to.”

Dumbledore waved a hand. “No matter. Have you learned anything?”

“What happened to Crouch’s son?” Harry asked.

“Sent to Azkaban and died there,” Dumbledore said.

“Died?” Harry repeated, confused and Dumbledore nodded. “I’ve seen him, sir. In dreams. He’s with Voldemort and Pettigrew. He’s being ordered to get me.”

Dumbledore gave him a sharp look. “Must just be dreams, my boy. Barty Jr. died in Azkaban years ago.”

Harry frowned. “Right.”

“I think that’ll be all, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Have a good evening.”

“Sir!” Harry protested but Dumbledore was already disappearing into another room. Harry let out a breath of frustration and left the office.

Once outside the office, he looked around and dug in his bag, pulling out the Marauder’s Map. He tapped it with his wand, whispering, and watched as the whole of Hogwarts was revealed. He walked slowly as he stared at the map, scanning. Nothing could fool the map. It saw through Invisibility Cloaks and Animagi. It must be able to see through Polyjuice Potion as well.

He continued staring at the map, never looking up at where he was going. And that was the reason he found himself badly startled when hands landed on his shoulders, halting his walk. He looked up and saw Lucius giving him an amused smile.

“Best watch where you’re going,” Lucius said, removing his hands and Harry realized he had been about to go down a flight of stairs. That would not have ended well. “What’s captured your attention?”

Harry folded the map as he considered the man. Lucius worked at the Ministry, had known Barty Crouch Sr. He probably knew about Barty Crouch Jr.

“What do you know about Crouch’s son?” Harry eventually asked, gaining a look of surprise.

“Barty Jr.?” Lucius said and Harry nodded. “He was a Death Eater. He was sent to Azkaban for it, died there.”

Harry frowned. “Are you sure he died?”

Lucius gave him a confused look. “I’m sure. Crouch identified the body himself and arranged the burial. I’m the one that signed the death certificate.”

Harry’s frown deepened.

“What’s going on, Harry?” Lucius asked.

Harry didn’t answer right away. His attention was caught by the figure at the bottom of the stairs. Moody had stopped on the landing and met Harry’s eyes. The man’s tongue darted out familiarly before he turned and went down the corridor off the landing.

“Harry?”

“I have no idea.”