Chapter Text
« "I like: Silver", Draco’s voice came across more conceited than he intended, his pride worn on his sleeve.
«"Far too obvious,"» Harry countered with boredom.
Draco rolled his eyes, tired of his friend dismissing all his ideas without a second thought.
« "As obvious as "Prongs” or “Padfoot”. My scales are silver; what’s wrong with Silver?"»
« "They aren't actually silver. They’re nearly white, like your hair, and they shimmer, so your nickname had better be something else."»
Draco smirked as a flash of a memory of a drunken Harry surfaced: "Promise me, Dragon… Promise you’ll stay blonde and shiny.”
« "I thought you’d like it,’ he said mischievously. ‘I thought you liked me being the best shiny blonde."
Harry understood the reference to his first drunken night perfectly, for Draco felt the embarrassment in his mind almost as if it were his own, followed by a rejection that hit like a thrown brick.
« "I told you never to mention that," his friend’s voice resonated like a whisper. Harry covered his face in shame and looked away, maintaining a silence that stretched a moment too long.
That was all the ammunition Draco needed to tease him, and he truly loved doing it; the night of the Hufflepuff party was definitely one he would remind him of for the rest of his life.
When he finished enjoying Harry’s adorable expression, Draco re-established the connection. « "I’ve only heard you reject all my suggestions, but you haven’t made any of your own…"
Harry refocused his previously vacant gaze, then shrugged. « "I was thinking of “finding something befitting the level of our power", he said playfully, in a terrible imitation of Draco’s posh voice.
But he had a point, and Draco agreed.
« "Perhaps something Greek,"» Harry continued. « "And something that refers to our likeness… to our core." His eyes met Draco's, looking a little intimidated. « "Flame translates as 'Phlox'; and Fire as 'Pyro'." »
Draco gave a lopsided smile, his chest tightening with the weight of the meaning. That warmth spread to his very fingertips. A strange tingling sensation.
« "I like Pyro," he murmured.
« "I like Phlox" » Harry’s voice felt like a soft caress in his mind.
"Potter! Malfoy! Thanks fer volunteering!" Hagrid interrupted them.
«Shit».
Draco had forgotten they were in the middle of a class; he didn't even know what the bumbling gamekeeper had been saying. He understood even less when he saw the giant creature playing just a few yards away.
A fully grown Hippogriff.
Just like in the other reality…
Draco feared for his life.
« "Volunteering for what?"» Harry broadcasted the same fear Draco was experiencing.
Turning to whisper the same question to Pansy—who was supposed to be beside him—Draco realised all their classmates were at least half a yard behind him and Harry, a prudent distance considering the innate imposition of the Hippogriff.
« "Brilliant… we’re cannon fodder" », he lamented.
Harry’s eyes widened in realization as he swallowed hard, his movements identical to Draco’s. He couldn't let a Hippogriff attack him, not here.
Hagrid huffed with enthusiasm, clapping his enormous hands while they were dying of fright.
"Tha’s it! Harry, Draco, step up here. Don’t be shy, just gotta be polite", the man announced, pointing to the animal waiting in the centre.
The steel-grey feathered Hippogriff shook its great wings, kicking up a cloud of dust and dry leaves. Its bright orange eyes scanned them with a predatory fixity that made Draco take a step back; however, Harry, his survival instinct clearly malfunctioning, stopped him, gripping his wrist so he wouldn't back away.
Draco shot him an accusing look. « "Are you mad?" » he asked. « "I’m not going near that thing" ».
Harry seemed amused by this, biting his lower lip to stifle a laugh, raising his eyebrows with a certain irony Draco couldn't quite place.
« "Really, Pyro?"» The arrogance in Harry’s voice, for once, wasn't feigned; it felt like a challenge. « "Are you scared of that chicken?" ».
« "Not everything with wings and a beak is a chicken, Harry." » Draco rolled his eyes. «"And I seem to recall that not long ago you were terrified of Diricawls… What did you call those harmless creatures? Demonic chickens?" ».
It was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. « "I wasn’t a dragon back then"».
That sentence was enough to sting Draco’s pride, sending his confidence from zero to sixty in less than a second.
"Don’t be shy," Hagrid spoke again. "Come closer, come closer. Jus’ no sudden movements."
Harry took the first step and Draco, with no other choice, followed, as Harry never let go. They walked in synchrony, backs straight and chins slightly upturned (a mere performance on Draco’s part, as he was actually terrified).
"Right then, lads. Don’t make eye contact with Buckbeak until yeh bow to him and…" Hagrid began giving instructions but trailed off mid-sentence when something extraordinary happened.
Normally, a wizard must bow and wait for the creature to respond; Draco knew this because he’d read the lesson the night before to avoid any "accidents". He knew Hippogriffs were creatures known for their unshakeable pride and ferocity. However, before they could even bend at the waist, Buckbeak reacted.
The Hippogriff suddenly tensed, its orange eyes dilating to the maximum as it focused on them. Draco couldn't help but look it in the eye. He expected a disaster, but there were no defiant squawks or warning flaps. Instead, the animal folded its wings with an almost reverent softness and, to everyone’s astonishment, sank its front joints into the earth.
Buckbeak didn't just bow; he prostrated himself. His head lowered so far that his beak nearly touched the ground, remaining absolutely still, as if standing before royalty far more ancient than his own.
"Blimey…’" Hagrid whispered, agape. "I’ve… I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. Yeh haven’t even bowed yet!"
Murmurs erupted behind them. Draco heard Pansy’s indignation and Hermione’s surprise almost simultaneously.
«"Draco, I think he knows what we are"», Harry projected, feeling a twinge of nerves.
«"‘It seems so…"» Draco gave a lopsided smile. His fear vanished before Buckbeak’s exaggerated display of respect, and in a way he didn't quite understand, he enjoyed it.
Harry stepped forward first and reached out. Buckbeak nuzzled Harry’s palm with his beak, emitting a sound that was a soft squawk, almost a purr. Draco mimicked the gesture, running his fingers through the neck feathers with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. To the touch, it was like a blanket—soft, warm—and Buckbeak seemed to enjoy it.
"Right then!" Hagrid shouted, recovering his voice though still looking stunned. "Seems he’s taken a special liking to yeh! What d’yeh say? Fancy a flight?"
Before Draco could respond, Harry nodded, stepping closer to the creature and, with Hagrid’s help, climbed up agilely. After a few seconds, Draco followed, sitting behind his friend. The Hippogriff’s back was broad and firm, showing enviable strength as it stood up, its head rising with a certain vanity that made Hagrid chuckle.
Then, Draco didn't know exactly what happened; a noise startled Buckbeak and he began a short sprint across the paddock. Caught off guard, Draco scrambled for something to hold onto—and that something was Harry. He threw his arms around Harry’s waist in a spontaneous hug, feeling Harry’s hair whip against his face in the gust of wind. And in an instant, they took flight.
The sky and the forest were a pleasant landscape; the daylight offered a new perspective compared to the rainy night, and flying with Harry felt almost natural. It was a wish Draco couldn't yet fulfil himself, for despite having wings in his animagus form, they hadn't yet dared to take to the air as dragons, fearing they would be discovered. That would reveal more than one secret.
But in that moment, it became an urgency for Draco. Now that he knew the feeling through a similar situation, he wanted to fly with Harry at all costs.
«"It’s fabulous!"» his friend shouted.
It was strange for Draco not to hear Harry’s voice in his mind; non-verbal communication was becoming so common that the shout made him jump slightly in surprise.
«"I can’t wait for us to do this as Pyro and Phlox!"» Harry shouted again.
Draco could vividly imagine the spark in those emerald eyes, along with the matching wide grin. The memory of seeing those same eyes peering through the shadows after his transformation came to mind—the obsidian-black scales framing them, making them look even deeper, like hidden fire. It was something he would cherish for the rest of his days.
Draco longed to see that imposing dragon again and fly alongside him.
« "I can’t wait either,"» he whispered with a smile close to Harry’s ear.
«"We have to learn how to be invisible in that form"»
«"I like the sound of that…"»
Buckbeak made an elegant turn over the lake, far too close to the water, and Draco felt his stomach flip. Harry, intrepid as ever, leaned down to touch the water, wetting his fingertips and, without warning, splashed Draco’s hair.
«"Hey!"» Draco protested, feeling the water trickle down his face.
Harry laughed heartily, his laughter echoing in the wind like melodic bells to Draco’s ears. Draco couldn't help but catch the mood and, after a second to recover, levitated a small amount of water over Harry’s head.
Harry’s laughter increased as he jumped at the touch of the cold water running through his hair.
«"This is war, Malfoy!"» he threatened.
When Buckbeak finally returned to where the class was waiting, he descended with impeccable smoothness.
The others, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, couldn't stop staring, their faces full of surprise. Draco would have liked to boast that it was due to the respect he and Harry radiated; however, he knew everyone was looking at them strangely because they were soaking wet, as if they had both fallen into the lake and Buckbeak had rescued them from drowning.
○○○
"You can’t go alone, darling," Remus told Sirius while trying to get their children to eat their breakfast instead of throwing it into the air. Hope’s little hands were smeared with porridge while Teddy’s cheeks were soaked, both enjoying their food war.
Remus sighed loudly, but the tenderness his children provoked in him was far greater than any frustration. The children were just exploring their surroundings, and he loved watching them. However, his husband was another matter…
"I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Cissy," Sirius replied with his mouth full. "But you can join us, Moony my love."
"I’m not leaving the babies alone, Sirius".
"They won’t be alone; Kreacher will look after them, he’s very good with them." Sirius sipped his coffee and took another piece of toast. "And Barty and Evan will be there too."
"The same idiots who kidnap Harry every year?" he asked ironically just as Teddy threw a spoonful of carrot porridge at him, which landed in his hair and provoked Hope’s angelic laughter.
"Hey! We’re right here," Barty replied, scandalized, setting his own breakfast aside.
Remus wiped his hair with a cloth napkin; the twins didn't stop laughing as they realized they had found a new way to make food fly and, as life’s most precious mockery, both changed their hair to a light brown (like Remus’s) with spots of the same orange hue as the porridge.
"I didn't tell a single lie,: Remus faced Barty. "You’re a pair of idiots, and I’m not leaving them in charge of my children."
"Well, since we can’t accompany Cissy…" Evan maintained his usual terrifying composure, which broke when Hope threw porridge at his face. Remus had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.
He was definitely very proud of his little girl; few could pelt a retired Death Eater like that.
On the other hand, he knew he was likely arguing a losing case.
Remus trusted Kreacher implicitly; the elf had been a lifesaver during those chaotic months with the babies, and perhaps he would have to settle for leaving them in his care. Of course, he wouldn't leave his husband alone to go and claim the body of his recently deceased cousin.
If it were up to him, he’d let her rot in Azkaban, but Narcissa, driven by affection for her sister, refused to let it be so.
She and Sirius were the only relatives who could handle the legal process and, given the circumstances, it was predictable they would run into Lucius Malfoy along the way.
"In the end, I can always go alone," Narcissa announced softly, taking a spoonful of her breakfast, so poised it contrasted with the war the twins were waging.
"I didn't mean to…: Remus tried to apologize, but she stopped him short with a vague wave of her hand.
"It’s no problem; there will come a day when I have to face my husband anyway."
"Wasn't he the one who hurt your pup?" Sirius continued, talking with his mouth full and making too much noise for anyone's liking. If Remus compared him to their children, he’d say the kids had better manners.
Narcissa sipped her tea and shrugged, a movement that showed how tired she was of discussing the situation.
"I’ve already explained: Lucius never had any idea he was hurting Draco by breaking his creations."
"Yes, but the fact he didn't know also shows how unreliable he is," Evan noted casually, as if talking about the weather rather than the gravity of mistrust in a marriage.
Narcissa didn't refute the comment and returned to her tea, trying to hide her face in the small cup. She was saved by Kreacher, who appeared right beside her, holding a silver tray with a letter in the centre—surely from Draco.
Sirius stood up, a smile curving his lips, his grey eyes shining as he turned to the twins. With a single flick of his wand, he cleared the food residue, but Hope and Teddy kept their orange-stained hair. Sirius’s smile widened with tenderness as he released them from the double high chair and held one in each arm.
Hope wrapped her arms around his neck and Teddy did exactly the same as soon as he saw his sister. Sirius, enthralled, kissed their little heads gently and then announced:
"We’ll take a nap and at midday I’ll be ready to go, Cissy, dear."
Hope looked up with a radiant smile, understanding what her daddy meant.
"Paffo," she said her favourite word as a question, and Teddy repeated it with excitement. The twins loved taking their naps snuggled up to Padfoot.
Narcissa merely nodded without looking up from her letter, her smile growing as she read.
"Moony, my love?" Sirius gave him a look of a dejected puppy, which Remus feared the children would learn to imitate far too quickly.
He sighed, feeling defeated. "Fine, I’ll go with you", he accepted, while serving his own breakfast.
Sirius celebrated his small victory and then vanished with the laughing twins, surely due to the tickling Sirius was giving them. He loved hearing their laughter.
Narcissa stopped reading her letter, folding it back into the shape she received it, and then took a piece of toast to butter it.
"You two," she addressed Evan and Barty. "When you did your animagus transformation, did you think about the possibility of taking the form of a magical creature?"
Evan seemed to ponder it while Barty refuted the idea immediately.
"Being an animagus is already a magical creature by definition, Cissy."
She laughed playfully. "You’re right, I was just wondering. I’ve never heard of an animagus being a Niffler or a Doxy."
"I don't think it’s impossible," Evan finished thinking. "It would just have to be a wizard with very special magic."
Remus also pondered the question and concluded the same as Evan.
Narcissa bit her toast nonchalantly, enjoying the idle talk, then smiled with a certain implicit affection Remus couldn't quite grasp.
"Yes, I think you’re right. They would have to be very special."
_ _ _
The warm atmosphere was replaced by the icy coastal breeze. Sirius, Remus, and Narcissa materialised on the black rock islet that served as a pier for the boats heading to the fortress of Azkaban.
The crossing was silent. The sea battered the sides with a dull violence, and the atmosphere, heavy with the presence of Dementors, began to seep into their bones. Remus saw Sirius clench his jaw and, noticing the rigidity, interlaced his fingers with Sirius’s under the cloak.
He leaned into his ear and kissed him fleetingly. "Everything’s fine, love," he whispered. "Those years are long behind us."
Sirius gave a lopsided smile, stiff with pride. "I know. My children’s laughter keeps me afloat." He turned and met Remus’s eyes—so deep, yet with a serenity that brought Remus a beautiful peace. "No one will ever take away the moment the children chant “Paffo” to hug him. That’s all that exists for me now."
Remus, perhaps due to the environment or the Dementors, couldn't stop the tears that rolled down his cheeks. He wrapped his husband in a hug, but the comfort was for himself.
Of course, nothing mattered more than his family.
Upon reaching the fortress entrance, the reception committee was no warmer than the weather. Six Ministry guards, visibly armed with faces covered by iron helmets, blocked their path before they could cross the threshold.
"Identify yourselves,: one of them roared. The voice sounded distorted by the metal, devoid of any courtesy.
"Narcissa Malfoy, née Black" Cissy replied in a voice that could have frozen the ocean itself. :I am accompanied by Sirius Black-Lupin and Remus Lupin-Black. We are here to claim the body of Bellatrix Lestrange in accordance with family succession laws."
The guards exchanged a quick look but didn't move. One of them let out a dry laugh, a sound full of contempt.
"Traitors have no jurisdiction here, Mrs Malfoy," the tallest guard spat. "No matter how much gold is in your vaults."
Sirius stepped forward, his eyes—unlike minutes before—burning with a dangerous fury.
"Watch your tongue, officer. My surname was in the foundations of this place before you knew how to hold a wand. We have the documents signed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Remus would never have imagined Sirius defending himself with an argument involving his surname, but there he was. Things changed, and for Sirius, the name Black no longer held the same meaning as in his youth.
"Those documents are worthless today,’ the guard retorted, crossing his arms. ‘Direct orders from above. No entry for anyone related to the deceased prisoner."
Narcissa frowned, her mask of perfection cracking with confusion. "Orders from whom? The Minister?"
"From no one who should concern you," the guard replied.
It was strange. Remus expected a legal ambush, a duel of influences, or even a scene of public indignation. Instead, for his misfortune, he had this: a senseless situation and nothing but six men and the seemingly irrefutable word of someone without presence or name.
Only the wind howling through the cracks in the stone and the raw contempt of the guards.
«It was the most sinister déjà vu.»
"This makes no sense," Remus whispered in Sirius’s ear.
"It’s as if they’re erasing us from the map," Sirius added; they shared a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. "They’re not ignoring us; they’re actively blocking us without giving an official reason.’"
Narcissa tried to take a parchment from her bag, but one of the guards struck her hand with the handle of his wand, causing the document to fall into the salty mud.
"Courtesy is over!: the guard shouted. ‘Get out of here before we process you for attempted trespassing in a restricted zone."
Sirius was about to draw his wand, but Remus stopped him with a firm squeeze on the arm. "No, love. It’s what they want. They just want an excuse."
Narcissa levitated her parchment with a wounded dignity that was painful to see. She stood tall, cleaning the mud with a quick movement, and looked at the guards with silent hatred.
"My sister has died in your custody," she said, her voice trembling slightly for the first time. "And you won’t even allow her family to give her a dignified burial. This isn't justice; it’s barbarism."
"Go home, lady," the guard said with total indifference.
And, with nothing more to add, their pride wounded, the three turned back. A bitter taste and the feeling of repudiation were latent, yes, but that mattered little when they concluded that, in reality, this situation was the tip of the iceberg and boded no good.
○○○
Regulus, in his form as Little Star, lay upon a pile of unmarked essays on James’s desk. James had never looked more attractive. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms, and his pearl shirt was tight enough that Regulus, with his enhanced sight, could admire his husband’s exquisite anatomy.
The start of spring was a blessing for Regulus, as he had a spectacular view during the shifts of Professor Potter, who no longer needed heavy robes. With the top buttons undone and his neck highlighted, Regulus couldn't stop staring. His tail twitched playfully, and he didn't mind purring just to get his husband’s attention. But James was busy teaching.
Determined to be an unconventional professor, James had organised a special class for the fifth years, students about to sit their O.W.L.s. Decided that he would be responsible for Hogwarts’ grades rising thanks to the Defence professor, he thought it was a good idea to have all the houses in one classroom to practice against each other.
To the children, it sounded like a great opportunity for a duel; to Regulus, it sounded like a recipe for disaster. Even more so when certain Weasleys were in the group, whispering behind playful smiles.
It was almost like seeing Sirius and James in their youth (the idiotic version), and James himself didn't notice. Moreover, there was a third boy from Hufflepuff whose robes stood out amongst the scarlet; he was laughing too, more reserved, but if Regulus had to bet, he’d say he was an accomplice in whatever they were plotting.
"Right then, class," James finished a long list of instructions that even Regulus hadn't paid attention to. ‘Let’s start with a bit of theory."
A chorus of groans echoed through the room; it was obvious no one wanted a study session. They all wanted to get straight to the action of facing off against rival houses.
James smiled lopsidedly to handle the displeasure, shrugged, and continued: "It’ll only be a few minutes. Come on! Open your books to chapter fifteen; it has a summary of all the spells we’ll be practising today."
Another wave of complaints followed before everyone begrudgingly began to follow the instruction.
Regulus saw the Weasley twins exchange a look he knew well. It was the "we’ve spent the weekend preparing something illegal" look. They chuckled and glanced at the Hufflepuff they called Cedric, who was sitting just behind them. He cleared his throat and adjusted his yellow tie with suspicious calm.
"Chapter fifteen, Professor?" Fred asked, raising his voice with an innocence that dripped sarcasm. "It’s a… very volatile chapter, don’t you think, Georgie?"
"Highly unstable, I’d say," George agreed, opening his bag just an inch.
And then chaos broke loose.
The moment a small group of Ravenclaws opened their books—the first to comply with James’s instruction—a loud "clack" resonated through the room. It wasn't a subtle movement. The books leapt from the tables as if they had a life of their own and were birds, flapping their covers like wings.
"Hey! Come back here!" a girl shouted, jumping to catch hers, but the book dodged her hand with a flight manoeuvre that would have made a Snitch weep with envy.
"Oh, look at that!: Cedric said, faking surprise as his own book shot toward the ceiling, dragging his inkwell with it. "Seems like knowledge wants to be free today, Professor."
The twins’ laughter erupted, unable to hold it in any longer, while James stood frozen, ink staining the tips of his messy hair. A second wave of books, this time from the Gryffindor table, joined the first. Then three more. Within seconds, the air above the students’ heads was filled with a flock of squawking textbooks diving and swooping.
"It’s a migration!: George shouted, ducking as a heavy hardback tome narrowly missed him. "Run for your lives, the books have decided they don’t want to be read!"
The chaos was instant and glorious. Slytherin students tried to swat down their own books, but the volumes seemed to hold a special grudge against green robes, as they spent their time rhythmically thumping them on the back of the head.
Regulus stood up on the desk, his back fur slightly bristled. A book whizzed past his ear, and James, with an instinctive reflex, caught the air just in time so the book wouldn't hit him.
"Quiet! Finite Incantatem!: James roared, pointing his wand at more approaching books.
A couple of volumes fell to the floor with a heavy thud, but before James could celebrate, the books flapped their covers harder and soared again, this time spraying iridescent ink. James was their blank canvas.
Regulus let out a feline huff that would have sounded like a laugh if he were human. Then, his eyes immediately fixed on the culprits. He didn't need to be a genius to know who was behind this.
Fred and George Weasley, heads bowed, shoulders shaking violently. To the naked eye, they seemed to be shielding themselves from the literary attack, but Regulus could see the glint of their wands hidden under the table, moving in rhythmic circles.
And then there was Cedric, with a look of faked panic so poorly executed that Regulus didn't understand how James hadn't noticed yet. The boy was biting his lower lip to keep from bursting into laughter, while his own shadow, through a slip on his part, was making orchestral conductor movements.
Regulus narrowed his eyes. The twins were the engine, but the Hufflepuff was the anchor.
James returned to the front, dodging a dictionary trying to nest in his hair. He was red, not with fury, but with the contained effort not to let out a laugh that would ruin his authority forever.
"Messrs Weasley!" James shouted, though his voice trembled a bit. "Do you have anything to do with this… migratory reading club?"
Fred looked up, wearing the most innocent face Regulus had ever seen on a human (and that was saying something, living with Sirius and his apprentice, Harry).
"Us, Professor?" Fred asked, as a Potions book (what was a Potions book doing there?) landed on his shoulder like a parrot. "We’re terrified. My textbook just tried to bite George."
George nodded fervently, pointing to a volume that was indeed latched onto his sleeve, and Cedric finally let out a giggle he tried to disguise as a coughing fit.
James bit his lip. Regulus saw his husband was about to explode and join in, but then his gaze met his cat’s. Regulus held the gaze with a chilly severity, trying to remind James that he was a professor, an adult.
James sighed, squaring his shoulders and trying to regain composure. "Close the windows!" he ordered those students who weren't busy fleeing. "If a single book gets out to the grounds, the twins will have detention until graduation."
James looked around. The room was a mess of loose pages, flying ink, and teenagers jumping over tables. But he could see the twins making quick finger movements as if pulling invisible strings. It was exquisite area-enchantment magic, nearly undetectable.
"Fred! George! Stop this right now!: he ordered, though his voice was thick with a suppressed laugh he couldn't hide.
"We can’t, Professor!" Fred replied, now standing on a bench trying to "fish" a book with his scarf. "They’ve got minds of their own!"
James sighed loudly and approached Regulus, no longer able to hide his smile.
"This is…' he began, ‘This is a flagrant violation of the rules… and it’s technically brilliant. Dammit!"
Regulus let out a warning meow, but James was already lost. The professor’s eyes were sparkling with euphoria.
"Look at that. The angle of attack is perfect. They’ve used a wasp-wing charm combined with a low-intensity Geminio!" James leaned closer to Regulus. "If Sirius were here, he’d cry with emotion."
"Professor Potter, my book’s bitten me!" a student complained from the back, struggling with a closed volume on his arm.
James debated internally for exactly three seconds.
And Regulus knew exactly what his husband was thinking. His professor side told him he should take points from every house involved and send the three boys to Filch. But his Marauder side was counting how many books he could knock down if he used a net spell.
"Right then!" James shouted, climbing onto his own chair to get a better view of the battlefield. "Consider this a practical exercise! Anyone who can’t tame their book in five minutes will have to write a three-yard essay on the Immobulus charm!"
The students stopped dead, a second of bewilderment as they turned to look at the professor who had gone mad, all with a mix of surprise, fear, and amusement in equal measure.
"Tally-ho!" was James’s battle cry before jumping off the chair.
"That’s unfair!: George shouted while dodging a diving book. "Mine’s at the very top!"
Cedric approached the twins, bumping shoulders with them as the three formed a defensive circle. "If we win, will you give us an "E" for effort?" he asked, testing James’s limits further.
"If you win, I’ll give you a trophy for the best spring chaos!" the “Professor” replied, completely forgetting that Regulus was looking at him with an expression that clearly said: "You’re an idiot."
Regulus watched the scene from the safety of the desk. James was now casting coloured spells to try and "herd" the books toward the shelves, laughing like a child as his shirt came undone by one more button from the effort.
Seeing James like that—so amused and so incredibly ridiculous—made Regulus feel that, perhaps, he loved seeing him this way.
The chaos continued for ten more minutes. Books clashing against shields, Slytherin students trying to use fire spells (which James had to extinguish quickly), and a cloud of ink floating in the air.
Finally, with a joint effort from James and a couple of Ravenclaws, they managed to subdue the paper "birds". The books were left piled on the ceiling, still twitching occasionally as if having spasms.
James leaned on his desk, right next to Regulus. He was sweaty, a lock of hair falling over his glasses, and his shirt slightly wrinkled from the struggle.
"That was… a dynamic introduction, don't you think?" James said, panting and looking at his students who looked worse than he did.
The twins smiled proudly, their hair as messy as James’s. Each threw an arm over Diggory’s shoulders, whose cheek was stained with ink, and they shared their blatant triumph without any reprisal.
Regulus moved to James’s hand and gave it a quick nip. It was a reminder: "Don't encourage them, you imbecile." James chuckled softly and stroked him distractedly, ignoring what he clearly didn't want to hear.
"Right, form teams of four!" James announced, clapping. Let’s start the duels!"
○○○
James stepped out of the shower after spending hours trying to remove the iridescent ink, shaking a towel over his head to dry his hair, still with the echo of laughter from his last class of the day.
A radiant smile on his face showed his happiness.
Regulus, still as a cat, waited for him on the bed and still wouldn't look at him, annoyed because he couldn't prevent a poorly executed Expulso from a Slytherin from hitting him during one of the duels.
However, James couldn't begin his flurry of apologies and pampering, for the door to their room burst open with so much drama James could have sworn Sirius was visiting the castle.
«I couldn't handle the temperament of both Black brothers at once», he lamented silently.
"Did you have the most fun class of all time, in a class that wasn't mine?!" his son roared.
James closed his eyes tight, sighing to gather all the patience he could. Harry’s wrath was definitely much worse than that of the Black brothers combined; his son had a strange mix of the temperaments of everyone who lived in Black Manor, and apparently, James was the target of that wrath.
"I didn't plan it, darling," he tried to start, turning to calm his beast, but realised it would be in vain as soon as he saw his son’s eyes transformed into emerald fire.
Draco came in behind Harry, also wearing an expression of pure indignation, but he, for his part, decided to remain silent.
They were supposed to be there to continue practising their Patronus, as they did every Thursday when they didn't have Quidditch practice; James, however, realised this session would be pure grievance and quite a bit of friction, with him being the victim of everyone.
Regulus chose that moment to transform; his icy face was not a good sign, and he gave him the most biting look in years.
"Oh, it seems your father prefers fun over his family, kitten," he spat with anger, or rather a tantrum in James’s eyes.
"Reg, please. Don't help me, love."
Harry advanced toward James, his heavy steps thudding on the floor, and pointed an accusing finger at him.
"You made textbooks explode in front of a whole year! And I wasn't there!"
«Merlin, give me patience»
James put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. Rumours really did twist everything.
"Harry, I didn't make anything explode," he whispered, trying not to shout. :It was some students who caused chaos with a prank. I only helped to control everything."
"That’s not what Pansy said!"
"Well, as far as I know, Pansy Parkinson wasn't there either, nor were you, little Black," James sighed. "Now, if you don't want to be grounded all next summer, I suggest you moderate your tone, darling."
At the threat, Harry stopped pointing his finger, embarrassed by his actions, the skin of his face turning a little red.
"Good choice," James was relieved not to have to deal with a fight. "Right, let’s go to the classroom to continue your lessons." A half-smile appeared on his face as the children nodded and headed out.
James threw the towel onto his bed and met Regulus’s static, icy, and annoyed gaze. There were no more biting comments, and that was a good sign. James approached him with slow movements so as not to startle his kitten; when they were face to face, he kissed the hairline.
"I’m sorry," he whispered against Regulus’s skin, then kissed him again, and again, marking a path toward his ear. "I shouldn't have neglected my tender kitty."
Regulus grunted and pushed him away with disdain; however, he didn't manage to break the hug, and James laughed softly.
"I’m sorry," he repeated, kissing the corner of Regulus’s lips, which curled slightly. James knew he was forgiven.
_ _ _
James, open-mouthed, couldn't believe what he was seeing. Two playful figures that, if they had life, would make him run for his own.
Two nearly identical dragons, the only difference being the intensity of the silver in their scales and the hue of the light they emanated. They weren't the slender, familiar forms of common animals; they were creatures of legend—robust, with long necks and wings that, as they unfurled, seemed to embrace the very air of the room.
The children, with smug smiles, watched their Patronuses, but it seemed James and Regulus were the only ones surprised. James exchanged a look with his husband, who was as stunned as he was. The whitish light of the charms bathed Regulus’s face, highlighting his sharp features and the glint of an incredulity he rarely allowed himself to show.
Even Prongs and Coal, who had been summoned previously to serve as guides, were surprised to see their new companions. The silver stag backed away a couple of steps, lowering its antlers in a gesture of animal respect, while the cat bristled, moving away slightly—perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of precaution at the magnitude of the magic that had just erupted in the room.
The memory of his son telling him about the shape of his magic core hit him then, striking with force.
"I didn't understand why I was the only one with fire in my chest," Harry had told him when they met. James never believed that fire in the chest would be as literal as what he was seeing now.
It wasn't just energy; it was an identity.
Harry’s Patronus—the dragon whose scales looked darker, like smoky metal—spread its wings with a crackle of light and turned to look at the other dragon, Draco’s, in a silent invitation.
Then it began a majestic flight around the room, sweeping the ceiling with its translucent wings, followed closely by the lighter-scaled dragon. The room became a piece of sky trapped within four walls.
They managed to make Prongs and Coal cast aside their shyness. The stag let out a silent snort and began to gallop around the perimeter of the classroom, while the cat leapt onto the tables, starting a playful game where all four chased each other. It was a silver dance, a choreography of family affection manifested in pure magic.
"It’s… extraordinary," he managed to say to the children, his voice barely a whisper broken by emotion.
"Incomparable," Regulus agreed, not knowing what else to say and unable to take his eyes off the dragons. His eyes reflected the flight of the creatures with an almost mystical fixity.
James felt a lump in his throat. He knew the corporeal Patronus was a reflection of the soul, of the purest happiness, but what he saw before him surpassed any treatise on Defence Against the Dark Arts he had ever read. Patronuses were not usually magical creatures of that calibre.
"How do you feel?" he asked, turning toward Harry and Draco.
Harry’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright. He didn't look tired, despite the enormous energy expenditure maintaining a Patronus of that size. On the contrary, he looked revitalized, as if his own creation were giving back the strength he had invested in it.
"It feels… nice," he replied, without taking his eyes off his dragon.
Draco, for his part, maintained a serene elegance, but his fingers toyed nervously with his wand. His platinum dragon circled down, passing so close to him that the air seemed to chill.
"It’s free," Draco murmured, and James could see the relief in his features.
James furrowed his brows in confusion; that phrase was the same one Sirius had said in the past, when they both discovered the corporeal form of their own Patronuses. James at that time could understand the meaning behind his best friend’s words, but now, hearing them from Draco, it felt like being cornered. Did the boy still feel trapped despite their protection?
Regulus approached the children, his gaze moving from the Patronuses to the teenagers’ faces, analysing every detail with his usual sharpness.
"You know this isn't normal, right?" he said in a soft tone of admiration. "A Patronus of a magical creature is extremely rare. Blimey! Two dragons… it’s a precedent the Ministry wouldn't know how to classify."
"We don't plan on showing them to the Ministry," Harry countered with a touch of that rebellion that reminded him so much of Sirius.
James let out a nervous laugh and ran a hand through his messy hair. He went over to Harry and ruffled his hair, though this time his hand trembled slightly from the shock.
"They’re beautiful!" he told him with his heart in his hand.
The light was so intense that the shadows of the desks lengthened and danced against the stone walls. The very air in the Defence classroom seemed to have become denser, charged with a purity that made breathing easier.
James watched as Harry’s dragon made an elegant dive to brush against his son’s shoulder. Harry didn't flinch, but his face lit up with a peace James loved to see. It was the living image of fulfilment.
He felt his chest swell with pride.
He closed his eyes for a second, recording in his memory the sound of the wings of light beating, the gallop of Prongs, and the playfulness of his own Patronus.
Harry smiled and, with a soft movement of his wand, made his dragon give one last triumphal lap before dissolving into a cloud of stardust. Draco followed suit, and shortly after James and Regulus banished their own guardians.
Silence returned to the classroom, but the spark in all four pairs of eyes remained. James, as a moved father, could only think of how much his baby had grown, and thanked life—all the stars—that he himself had been part of such a special moment.
And after a couple of seconds, he had only one thought that he liked to imagine echoed in the beyond.
«‘Thank you, Lily.’»
○○○
"Are you an absolute idiot?!" Draco roared at his other self.
He couldn't help it; lately they argued about almost everything, starting with the school year when the other Draco mocked the other Harry for fainting during his encounter with the Dementor. They also had a serious row over jealousy when it was revealed that his animagus form was a very powerful magical creature—a row that only worsened when the other Draco found out that Buckbeak didn't attack him, and instead bowed before him and Harry, granting them the privilege of one of the most fun rides Draco had ever experienced.
But now, reading the mind of his other self and seeing the scene of the worst prank he could have played, Draco lost his head.
Seeing the other Harry nearly fall from the heights because they wanted to intimidate him with a horrible Dementor disguise was, to say the least, horrifying.
To take advantage of a tragedy to mock someone…
«Did a version of him that cruel really exist?»
Anyone would say that possessing a gift like that—seeing through another dimension, another reality—would make you a more sane and sensible person, more mature, with the capacity to aspire to something more. But apparently, his other self was the exception.
"Drop the drama, will you," the other Draco replied. "I’m supposed to be sleeping; I don't need more stress. It was an exhausting day." He tried to silence him with a voice so pompous and arrogant that Draco felt he was listening to his own father.
Never before had he truly wanted to hit him, with biting and real force, but not knowing the consequences it might bring for him, he always stopped.
He cared little for the other Draco’s sleep; he cared little for the other Draco, who was heavily influenced by his ruthless father, in whom he found no flaw and instead admired.
How could he share a face with someone who admired Lucius? Worse still… he shared a face with someone who constantly sought the approval of someone so atrocious.
"You’re a moron," he hissed with scorn. Then, without reason or compassion, Draco landed a clean punch on his cheek.
The satisfaction that rushed through his body didn't last long; the pain he expected to throb in his knuckles didn't appear. Instead, that pain appeared in his mind. A sharp lightning bolt that shattered his brain. A strange feeling of being in limbo, between wakefulness and unconsciousness—being awake without being able to wake up—and a crack like a breaking oak echoed in the background.
It was momentary, but shocking. It lasted barely a couple of seconds, and Draco knew his other self experienced the same sensation, sharing his intense silver gaze, full of confusion and pain.
He assumed the crack was the result of both minds wounding each other, which confirmed they shouldn't attack one another.
His other self pushed him hard, causing Draco to stumble back onto the rug; dazed by the fog in his mind and senses, he didn't protest. For the rest of the night, there was no more interaction than a few accusing looks.
For the following nights, it was exactly the same: cold indifference.
Ignoring each other to the point where they had a tacit agreement: Draco occupied the left side of the mental room, and his other self the right. In that way, neither of them knew from then on the events occurring in the other’s life.
○○○
The atmosphere in the Slytherin changing rooms was a dense mix of the static electricity that always preceded a final.
Draco adjusted his arm guards with mechanical movements, feeling the adrenaline seep through him. From his bench, he watched Harry out of the corner of his eye while Harry struggled with the straps of his padding, wearing that expression of absolute concentration that only appeared when the Quidditch pitch was in sight.
A knot of anxiety—which had nothing to do with the game and everything to do with his friend’s safety—settled in Draco’s chest, making him grit his teeth.
«"Harry, it’s the Quidditch final, you need to focus"» he broadcasted, letting his mental voice sound with that touch of superiority he used as a shield to hide his own emotions.
Harry didn't even look up, though Draco felt a wave of warm annoyance hit his mind. «"I know it’s the final, Malfoy. You don't need to remind me"».
«"And Slytherin must not lose to Hufflepuff"» he added, shooting a stern look at the rest of the team who were finishing getting ready in silence.
Harry finally looked at him, and Draco felt momentarily dazzled by the intensity of those eyes.
«"We won’t"» Harry stated with such crushing confidence.
Draco rolled his eyes while adjusting his left glove. «"I’m saying it because we don't need you staring star-struck at that strange and weird Seeker"» He cleared his throat, feigning indifference.
Harry let out a dry laugh that echoed in the room, drawing a few curious glances. «"I don't stare at him star-struck!"»
«"You do,"» Draco countered, raising his eyebrows with a jealousy he couldn't hide, crossing his arms. «"All the time"».
Harry looked down, toying with the edge of his robes, and Draco felt through their connection a pang of second-hand embarrassment that made him shift uncomfortably. It was a long moment, charged with a silence only they shared, before Harry looked up again with that stubbornness so typical of the Potters.
«"Have you not seen his magic core? It’s hypnotising"» he justified.
And Draco released a breath he didn't know he was holding. «"You look at him like that because of his core?"»
Harry nodded with a look of puzzlement. «"Yes, why else would I?"» He shrugged as if it were the most logical explanation in the world.
Draco shook his head repeatedly, a silly smile appearing on his face, so much so that he was about to let out a laugh of pure disbelief. «"No reason, Harry,"» he said, summoning his broom in silence. «"What’s so hypnotic about his core?"»
«"It’s a comet! It moves and sometimes it seems like it has no magic and then it reappears from one moment to the next! It’s beautif..."»
«"No!"» Draco interrupted with annoyance. «"Our cores are beautiful. Nothing else"» he clarified. «"Diggory is just the weird and strange Hufflepuff and nothing more."»
It was Harry’s turn to smile with amusement. «"Is that why you always call him the weird and strange Hufflepuff? Because of his core?"»
Draco nodded, rolling his eyes and pretending to check that everything was right with his kit. He didn't need to give any more explanation than that.
Saved by an apparition right in front of them, Draco felt relieved—as never before in his life—to see Kreacher, his bulging eyes very bright, proud to have fulfilled whatever Harry had asked of him.
"Master Harry," the elf bowed. "Kreacher has prepared the feast his master requested; it is all ready in the dungeons. Kreacher also got the fizzy drinks and everything else you asked for."
Harry smiled lopsidedly and leaned down to hug his elf. It was strange; there was a time when they were both almost at Kreacher’s height, and now they towered over him. Draco hadn't noticed until that moment.
"Thanks, Kreach," Harry whispered. "Did you also prepare the extra meat pie I asked for?"
The elf nodded solemnly, placing a hand to his chest. "But Kreacher does not understand why the master requested that he leave it at Black Manor."
Harry smiled again, this time with more affection and warmth. "Because it’s yours, Kreach. But don't share it with anyone, especially not Fleabag One and Fleabag Two."
«Harry certainly had a way of showing affection to the twins»
Kreacher bowed again, his tears of "allergy" falling to the floor, and then he vanished without a word. Harry, for his part, continued getting ready for the match with total nonchalance.
«"What are you plotting, Harry?"» Draco asked when he could no longer stand the silence.
His friend smiled with the spark of Marauder mischief. «"I told you we’d be the first to throw a party in Slytherin."»
Draco closed his eyes at the realization. «"Please tell me he didn't bring alcohol."»
Harry shrugged just as he grabbed his broom, ready to leave the changing rooms, but at that exact moment, he gave a playful wink.
"Then I won’t tell you."
Leaving Draco with an unusual racing heart that made him forget any knowledge of Quidditch, flying, or anything else about his very existence.