Harry chewed his lip and tapped his wand anxiously against his leg as he watched everyone move around from where he stood on one of the stages. Bill and Moody were standing on the other stage, talking quietly as they awaited the start to the duels. The rest of the house's residents were milling around to be the audience, making Harry nervous as he knew he was expected to use his magic now despite having his wand out. He was terrified to let others learn of his new abilities given some of the reactions he'd already received: Ron's anger, Hermione's fear, Dumbledore's desire to suppress. He couldn't handle losing anyone else; it'd been too much already. He was also worried about unintentionally connecting to Snape again. It was bad enough everyone would learn about his magic; they didn't need to know about his horcrux and connection to Dark Marks too. He would instantly be classified as a Dark wizard if they knew what he could do.

The thought made his eyes drift over the spectators to Snape who was talking to Kingsley, both nodding and gesturing. They only spoke for a few seconds before Kingsley left to walk up onto Harry's stage. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes at Kingsley's grin. The Auror was far too excited about their duel.

"Might as well put your wand away, kid, or I'll take it," Kingsley told him. "We want you using your other magic."

Harry huffed. "I'd really rather not."

"Knowing how to use it and using it could keep you alive," Kingsley pointed out.

"And when it terrifies people and they decide I need to be controlled or studied?" Harry countered with a raised eyebrow.

"Show them why they chose you to be their hero and why they're cowardly fools," Kingsley replied casually, shrugging.

Harry stared at Kingsley contemplatively as the man strolled to one end of the stage. Normally, he despised being reminded of his forced role of the wizarding world's hero, especially now after everything that had happened and everything he'd learned. Yet, even he had to admit, Kingsley had a good point. He'd been told what to be, but anytime he did anything to live up to that role, he was told it was wrong, that he was wrong. There were so many double standards placed on him as the Boy Who Lived, but that was who they had deemed him to be; he didn't choose it. They wanted a hero with the power to save them so that they didn't have to confront the choices they'd made that had led to the war now on the shoulders of teenagers. If they wanted an all-powerful hero, they didn't have the right to demonize that power. They'd run out of choices they were allowed to make for him.

He glanced down at his wand, chewing his cheek again, and slid it back into his wand holster from Moody. He immediately felt approval wash through both Kingsley's and Snape's magic, drawing his eyes to both of them.

"Duellists ready?" Tonks called up to them as she stepped between the stages.

With a deep breath, Harry moved to stand opposite Kingsley, Bill and Moody arranging themselves on their stage. He curled and uncurled his fists nervously, trying to use his limited Occlumency skills to block the anxious thoughts heavy on his mind so he could focus on his intent and control. He didn't want his emotions impacting his magic, not during a duel.

"Remember, anything goes except killing," Tonks told them and raised her wand above her head. Green sparks flew into the sky as she shouted, "Duel!"

Barriers rose around the stages, and Bill and Moody began before Tonks' sparks had even disappeared. Their first spells collided in midair, remnants ricocheting into the shield, making it shimmer under the impact. Their duel quickly devolved into brutal spells, fast movements, and sharp casting.

Harry and Kingsley, on the other hand, didn't react for several long seconds, gazing at each other to gauge the silent, internal decisions being made. Though Kingsley's magic had continued to thrum as it normally did, Harry still tensed in anticipation. He knew he shouldn't wait for Kingsley to act first, but he also wanted to read the Auror's magic so he could respond most effectively.

Then, Kingsley's magic began to change very subtly. It was still thrumming, low and deep, but it was also tightening. As the man's magic tightened, so too did his chest, his lungs very slowly restricting and cutting off each breath ever so slightly and sharply. He tried to read the spell being used, but it was so subtle in the larger magic, an intention beneath the natural thrum, that it was nearly hidden and he couldn't get a read. It was fascinating; he'd never experienced such a thing. He hadn't known it was possible to cast a spell without actually casting a spell, instead keeping it within the core magic to mask.

He was unable to continue contemplating as the squeezing got tighter and tighter, making his chest hitch with broken breaths. When spots began to appear in his vision, he gathered his own magic and imagined a bubble encasing Kingsley's core, breaking whatever hold the Auror had on him. He drew in a long, deep breath at the same time Kingsley's magic pulsed, shattering the orb around his core.

When a Burning Spell flew towards him, he sent a blast of neutral magic at it, making them collide and the Burning Spell careen into the barrier. They moved faster then, Kingsley sending rapid-fire spells and curses that Harry did his best to read and either dodge or respond to. It was an intense experience, Kingsley very clearly older with the experience of a hardened Auror and war veteran.

Harry eventually realized he was being far too defensive and heard Snape's words echo in his head: "Don't be afraid to hurt me ... you won't hurt me, not really."

He took a deep breath after wrapping red magic around the Blinding Hex Kingsley had sent at him and dissolving the spell. He gathered magic in his hands and formed it into a glittering black snake that began to slither across the stage towards the Auror. It started off around the size of Nagini, but when Kingsley sent a Blood Boiling Curse at him, Harry flooded the snake with magic and guided it to rear up. It opened its mouth and swallowed Kingsley's curse, making the man's eyes widen and he was sure he heard gasps from their audience. He ignored it and pushed his snake forward, making it race towards Kingsley who had turned his casting onto the glittery reptile only for the snake to swallow and absorb every spell that hit it. 

As his snake reached Kingsley, he guided it to shrink and begin wrapping around the man's leg, very slowly making its way up the Auror's body. So focused on his snake, Harry didn't notice Kingsley repeating his actions from earlier, casting while keeping the spell hidden in his magic. He gasped when he felt something wrapping around his body similar to how his snake was wrapping around Kingsley, only, whatever Kingsley had around him, Harry couldn't see and it began slicing through his clothes and skin as it moved. He ground his teeth together as the pain increased, blood slowly trickling down his arms, but he kept them raised, controlling his snake to rise up Kingsley's body. 

The snake circled around Kingsley's torso and came to drape around the man's shoulders. As it did, Harry poured more magic into the snake, this magic weaving through the snake in purple rivers. Kingsley twitched and Harry felt the invisible razors cutting into him stutter just slightly. 

For a few moments, nothing happened beyond small twitches from Kingsley and the man's razor continuing to cut into Harry's arms and torso, nearly bringing him to his knees as he shook. Then, Kingsley let out a shout and fell to his own knees, tremours beginning to wrack his body. Harry winced as a sharp pain stabbed his head before he saw the briefest flash of a woman dead on the ground and the faintest whisper of a tortured scream. 

Harry thought he could hear muttering from the watching crowd, but continued to ignore it, pushing magic into his snake and watching Kingsley bite back cries of some kind of pain. Harry thought he was on the edge of winning, shockingly, only for there to be a pulse in Kingsley's magic and Harry let out his own scream as it felt like a knife dug deep and sliced down his spine. He screamed and fell to his hands and knees. The sensation was replaced by a familiar Cruciatus and his fingernails dug into the wooden stage as he trembled violently under the torture. He forced his head up, trying to regain the full connection to his snake, only to find Kingsley also lifting his head despite his own shaking. Despite struggling through Harry's inflicted torture, the man was clearly still able to act and, with a crash of Kingsley's magic that was like a wave on rocks, the black snake exploded into sparkling dust that rained around them. Kingsley sliced his wand through the air and Harry found himself being flung backwards, landing hard on the edge of the stage. 

Harry made to roll over and respond only to find Kingsley's wand at his throat. He sighed and gazed up at the man who, while still shaking, was looking at him with a raised, questioning eyebrow. Harry raised his hands in surrender and Kingsley grinned.

There was no call to the end of their duel, not the way there had been with all the others. Harry looked around and found everyone staring at him, eyes wide and faces filled with varying emotions. He saw surprise in some, impression in others, but it was the anger, fear, and disgust that he saw in a few faces that caught his attention above all the others. 

"Alright, kid?" Kingsley asked quietly and Harry turned his eyes back to the man, finding a hand held out to him.

He took it, nodding, and was pulled to his feet. Once he was standing, it was as though that had been the cue for everyone to start shouting. Well, for Ron to start shouting.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron yelled, face twisted in anger and disgust. "I knew you had some kind of freak magic, but what the hell is your problem?"

Harry glanced at everyone, trying to gauge what they were all feelings. "I...I've got excess magic. My core is cracked."

"That was way more than just extra magic, Harry," Hermione chimed in, looking a bit frightened. "That was..."

"Dark is what that was!" Ron interrupted loudly.

"Don't act like you know what you're talking about, Ron!" Bill shouted back.

"You saw the same thing I did!" Ron argued. "You saw what he did!"

"You don't know what he did!" Charlie jumped in.

Harry held back from saying anything. If he explained what he had done to Kingsley, it would only reinforce Ron's opinion.

"It is certainly concerning," Lupin said and Harry looked at him, pained. "Certainly not something I've ever seen."

"He's mad!" Ron continued angrily. "He was torturing Kingsley!"

"He wasn't actually," Kingsley pointed out. "It was Memory Magic. He made me relive a painful memory and I felt what I felt then, but nothing was actually being done to me physically."

"Oh my," Mrs. Weasley said, sounding worried. "That doesn't sound like something a young boy should be doing or able to do."

"We need to talk to Albus," Lupin said.

"Oh, shut up, wolf," Snape sneered. "The boy is powerful, we already knew that."

"Powerful, yeah, but that..." Ron pointed aggressively at Harry and Kingsley, "that was Dark. Guess he's learning from the best." The redhead glared at Snape, receiving a glower in response.

"You don't know what Dark is, Ron!" Fred yelled.

"How can we be sure you can control this, Harry?" Hermione asked. "I've read about excess magic. It is remarkably unpredictable."

"I've got it figured out," Harry said quietly, almost mumbling.

"You're a freak and he's going Dark. We can't trust him," Ron growled and Harry was shocked when Charlie threw a fist, catching his little brother in the jaw and sending Ron to the ground. "The hell, Charlie?"

"You don't get to say a thing about trust," Charlie said, "not after how you're treating your supposed best friend."

"I don't make friends with Dark wizards," Ron snapped, rubbing his jaw that Harry could see was already starting to bruise.

"Then you're going to live a very lonely life because the world is filled with Dark wizards because we're all a little Dark," George replied.

Ron pushed himself to his feet and glared at his brothers, all of them facing Ron with glowers of their own as they stood between their brother and Harry still on the stage with Kingsley. 

"He'll get you killed if he doesn't do it himself," Ron sniped.

"The world's not that simple," Bill replied.

With a final hate-filled glare at Harry, Ron stormed away into the house, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley hurrying after him. Harry sighed, shaking his head at their reactions. When Lupin cast him an unsure look as the werewolf passed, Harry's heart clenched. No one else said anything as they all moved back into Number Twelve, leaving Harry with Kingsley and Snape in the backyard.

Hurt, Harry dropped himself down to sit on the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the side, and he stared down at the grass. He heard Kingsley's footsteps on the stage, heading away, and then heard rustling and crunching grass before the man's robes came back into his peripheral view. When the Auror began moving his torn sleeve to look at the injuries, Harry pulled his arm out of the man's grasp, receiving a sigh.

"I'm not leaving you like this," Kingsley told him.

"And I told you I shouldn't have used my magic," Harry lightly snapped.

"It is important for you to use it, Potter," Snape countered. "It could keep you alive."

"Yeah, well, what good is that when I don't want to be?" Harry bit out. He looked up at the two men when he didn't receive a response and found them gazing at him sympathetically. He huffed and dropped his eyes again. "I'm a freak and I always will be."

"You're not, Harry," Kingsley protested.

"No? Then who else can do what I just did?" Harry argued. "I pulled one of your most painful memories out and made you relive it, and I hardly even knew that's what I was doing. Who the hell can do something like that?"

"Anyone with skill in Mind Magic," Snape replied simply. 

Harry stared at him for a long while before blowing out a breath of frustration. "I'm still sorry," he said to Kingsley. "I didn't mean..."

"To find the memory of the day my wife and daughter died?"

Harry looked up at him, a stab of pain hitting him as he realized what he'd seen a flash of.

"It's alright, kid," Kingsley assured. "Honestly, you impressed me with how well you held your own in that duel."

"I still shouldn't have done that," Harry said, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have-"

"No, you should," Snape interrupted. "You do what you have to in order to survive. No enemy will have mercy on you."

"You're not my enemy though," Harry argued.

"No, but we want you to act like we are during these so you can learn how to fight a real enemy," Kingsley replied. "You have to know and be willing to do anything."

"What if doing anything means going Dark like Ron thinks? What if he's right and using this magic will make me go Dark? It's partly Voldemort's magic and I have his soul in me and I can connect to Dark Marks," Harry ranted. "What if it's all because I'm actually Dark? What if it's all because I'm actually like him?"

"As the one Mr. Weasley said, we are all Dark," Snape said, bringing Harry's eyes to him. "The difference is giving into it or utilizing it. We are going to ensure you utilize it."

Harry stared at the professor, stomach twisting with anxiety but his mind turning over the two men's words.

"Can we heal you now?" Kingsley asked after a few moments and Harry nodded reluctantly.

The two worked together, healing all the slices Kingsley had made and feeding Harry potions to take care of the Cruciatus effects and other pain.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have a few things to do at Hogwarts," Snape told them. "Well done, Potter, and stay out of trouble."

Briefly giving Snape an odd look at the praise, Harry turned the expression into a grin. "Always do, sir," he quipped easily and laughed at the exasperated stare he received before dodging the swat to his head.

The man just shook his head, gaining another laugh from Harry, and walked back to the house. Harry watched him go, humour easing to be replaced by the deep-seated confusion he had yet to truly acknowledge, let alone confront. It wasn't a new confusion. It had started that day in Privet Drive and had sat behind every interaction he'd had with Snape. A part of him hadn't wanted to confront the confusion, had wanted to just accept the new dynamic without question. Only, he was completely incapable of accepting change without questioning motive, especially change in well-established dynamics, like his and Snape's. He had to understand what had happened, what had changed...if it was real. He had to know so he could be prepared if and when he was left behind.

"Everything alright, kid?" Kingsley asked.

Harry furrowed his brow, still staring after Snape despite the man not being there anymore. "Can people change? Like really change?"

"I like to think so."

"How do you know? How do you know it's real?"

A hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to Kingsley, seeing the puzzled concern.

"What's going on?" Kingsley wondered.

Harry felt his furrow turn into a frown as he nearly glared at Number Twelve. "He hated me. We've hated each other for five years. That can't just...go away."

"Why not?"

"Because hate doesn't just disappear, that's not how it works, and it definitely doesn't disappear in a month," Harry argued.

"Maybe it didn't disappear," Kingsley said. "Maybe it changed."

"But how?" Harry said, feeling frustrated and desperate. "What changed?"

"Circumstances. Perspective," Kingsley suggested. "You'd be surprised what can change if those things do."

"But what made those change?"

"You. Him," Kingsley replied. "Not every relationship you have is doomed to fail."

Harry blinked at the sudden burning in his eyes. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Harry," Kingsley said gently and he looked at the Auror again. "What are you struggling with?"

Harry's eyes dropped to the ground. "If it's real then I can lose it. Then something matters and I don't want anything to matter. I'm done caring."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to die. Because I want to die. Because it hurts too much. Because no one else cares."

"Oh, kid," Kingsley murmured and Harry was startled when he was pulled from the stage to be brought into the large man's arms in an engulfing hug. "You don't get to choose if people care or if they change."

Harry still fought the burning in his eyes as he leaned his head against the Auror's shoulder. "I can't lose anyone else and I can't have people fighting what has to happen. I can't handle anyone making it harder than it already is. I want to die. I don't want anyone changing that."

"You don't get to decide if people fight for you either," Kingsley said, "and you won't lose anyone. You won't lose him."

"You can't promise that."

Kingsley's chest lifted under him as the man sighed. "No, I suppose not, but you shouldn't be alone out of fear."

"It's what I deserve."

"What you deserve is to have never been given our war," Kingsley answered. "What you deserve is whatever Severus can give you because you have no idea the things you can get with him on your side."

Harry wrapped his arms around Kingsley and squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm tired of being alone."

"You're not, kid," Kingsley murmured. "That I can promise."

They were quiet as Harry allowed himself to be comforted, allowed himself to believe in Kingsley's words and Snape's intentions regardless of their fuzziness. It still puzzled him that things had changed between him and Snape so drastically in only a month, but he could agree Kingsley was right; circumstances had changed. Maybe the new dynamic was simply what was needed then by them and the situation.

"I will never tell you to live for the dead, but this is what Sirius would want for you," Kingsley told him.

Harry snorted quietly and finally stepped out of the Auror's embrace. "I highly doubt he had Snape in mind."

Kingsley chuckled. "No, probably not, but he would want you to find someone to help you. He wouldn't want you joining him so soon."

Harry let out a sad sigh, pained thinking about Sirius. "He has helped. Not sure I would've made it out of Privet Drive without him, honestly. Surprised I'm still here sometimes."

Kingsley gave him a gentle, sympathetic yet understanding smile. "And we're going to keep it that way."

"We?"

Kingsley nodded. "The day you learned of the horcrux, Severus confronted Dumbledore-"

"Wait, he did?" Harry interrupted.

Kingsley nodded again. "He came back, told me he would find the other horcruxes and would find a way to remove yours without killing you. I promised to help and I intend on doing so."

Harry gazed at the man, surprised at his and Snape's apparent conviction.

"You can trust in us," Kingsley impressed, "especially because if Severus Snape makes a promise, he keeps it."

And, thinking back on the last month, even the things he knew from the last twenty years of Snape's life, Harry knew that was something he could believe.

"So, I had a thought," Harry said later that evening.

He and Snape had moved into the library when the man returned from Hogwarts after dinner, and were searching the Black literature collection for anything that could help provide information on horcruxes, Mind Hunting, or marks like the Dark Mark. Well, Harry was perusing the shelves as Snape read through the book that Harry had found with the locket, Harry having retrieve it upon the professor's request to know how he'd learned about horcruxes.

"Just the one?" Snape retorted lightly without looking up from the black book. "One step at a time, I suppose."

Harry turned from the shelf he was examining and scowled at the man. "Couldn't just let it go once, could you?"

"Have you ever known me to ‘just let it go'?" Snape said, turning a page.

"I don't think you want me to answer that," Harry replied and smirked when Snape finally looked up at him with a scowl of his own.

"You think you are terribly charming, don't you?"

"I think I'm delightful," Harry said, laughing as Snape rolled his eyes. "Now, do you want to hear my thought or not?"

"I have started to assume I do not have a choice," Snape drawled.

"You're right, you don't," Harry said, spinning to lean his back against the shelves and crossing his arms. He felt the exasperated amusement in Snape's magic as the man rested his cheek between his thumb and forefinger, clearly waiting for Harry to continue. "So, when I touched the horcrux, I told you I heard voices."

Snape nodded.

"I think I heard how the horcruxes were made," Harry told him. "The people involved."

"Those the Dark Lord killed to make into a horcrux?" Snape clarified and Harry was the one to nod. "How did you draw this conclusion?"

Harry moved his eyes away from Snape's to the book in the man's lap. "The last voices I heard were Voldemort's and my mother's."

There was no response, but Harry did feel the pained regret that briefly sharpened Snape's magic. It settled to the background after just a few seconds and Harry shook himself out of the little he remembered of Halloween night.

"Anyway, my thought was that I use my horcrux to find out about the others. Find out what they are, where they are maybe," Harry explained and Snape's eyes narrowed.

"We will pretend for the moment that I would be stupid enough to endorse such an inane plan," Snape said and Harry rolled his eyes. "How do you know you could gain any such information? We have no idea how the horcrux truly works, particularly in relation to the others."

"And I doubt we'll ever know without trying things because I'm going to take a wild guess and assume two things. One, that no one's ever made more than one horcrux and, two, that no one has ever been a horcrux," Harry said and Snape pinned him with a look, making Harry sigh. "I already heard some things that I think will help so if I hear more, I can learn more."

"What did you hear?"

"I think he killed his father for one and a woman named Hepzibah for another," Harry told him. "None of the others were specific so that's why I need to hear more. You said you would help find the others. This might be the only way how."

"I refuse to let you risk yourself so foolishly," Snape said, continuing before Harry could begin arguing. "Let us focus on the ones you heard specifics about. You said his father was involved in one."

"Yeah, I heard him call someone ‘Father' after another voice said he looked like a Muggle." Harry nodded. "I assume talking about his father."

Snape looked at him questioningly.

"Voldemort's father was a Muggle," Harry explained, "and he seemed to really hate the man. Changed his name so he didn't share a name with his Muggle father."

Snape raised an eyebrow and Harry shrugged. 

"He told me. He likes to talk," Harry said flippantly.

Snape hummed. "That he does," he murmured, making Harry grin for a moment. "In any case, it is a direction we can pursue, the Dark Lord's father. We would likely still need more than a common name, however."

Harry thought, replaying all of his interactions with Voldemort. He tried to remember every vision, every location, and every word spoken. He wanted to remember, wanted to know what had been revealed that he hadn't understood or hadn't seemed important, but could now explain...something. He found himself back in a graveyard, reliving one of the most terrifying nights of his life. He struggled to look past his fear and pain and Cedric. He frowned to himself as phantom pain brushed his arm, his head, his entire body. The laughs, cheers, and jeers of the Death Eaters echoed in his head like the harsh whispers of haunting ghosts. The green light of the curse that had defined his life blinded him, highlighting the silhouettes of all those the light had taken from him.

"Focus, Potter."

"Huh?" Harry pulled himself from the graveyard and its ghosts, and looked at Snape who was gazing at him. Snape's eyes flicked to another part of the library and Harry turned his head, finding furniture and loose books hovering in the air. He sighed and pulled back on the magic he could now feel leaving him in calm, but strong waves, bringing everything back to the floor. "Sorry." He summoned his wooden snake and started absently carving away at the details.

"What is bothering you?" Snape asked, watching him.

"Nothing, really. I was just thinking about things," Harry said, stepping just slightly back into the graveyard to find what he needed. "There would be records of Voldemort, right? Of who he was before, when he was Tom Riddle?"

Snape looked at him curiously. "I would assume so."

"Meaning there should be records of his parents," Harry said. "If he killed his father, there's got to be a record of the death."

"Perhaps, but I doubt the Ministry would have been interested in the death of a commonly named Muggle," Snape pointed out. "I'm afraid we can do little with just a name."

"I've got a place," Harry said. "Little Hangleton. It's where the Riddles lived."

Snape furrowed his eyebrows. "How do you know that?"

"I've seen it, I've been there, to the graveyard," Harry said distantly. "It's where the Portkey brought us, where Voldemort came back."

Snape's magic grew heavy with some emotion and Harry found himself seeing memory flashes that weren't his own: a burning arm complete with a writhing jet-black Dark Mark and suffocating fear; a screaming and sobbing and bloody Harry clutching desperately to Cedric; Dumbledore murmuring, "You must return," while Snape stared out a window into the darkness, a single tear trickling down his cheek.

Harry gazed at Snape contemplatively as the memories faded and the emotion left the man's magic. He had his own flashes of moments with the professor from the last five years and, as Kingsley's words repeated themselves, he realized the Auror could actually be right.

Perspective changes everything.