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batsutousaiTitle: Nose to the Wind
Series: Like a Ghost in My Town
Fandom: Harry Potter
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Harry Potter/Lord Voldemort, James Potter/Lily Potter
Warnings: AU, violence, universe hopping/rebirth, Dark!Harry, werewolf!Harry, underage relationship (ish)
Summary: While Harry had been content with his second chance, that didn't keep him from thinking what he could have done different, how many people could have survived if he hadn't been set on the very specific path he'd walked. Third time is the charm, though, right?
A/N: Haha, omg, I hadn't meant for the end of last chapter to come across as ominous? ^^; I promise no Dursleys will be showing up in this fic, and we've seen the last of the shitty teachers.
There have been some questions about Harry's ability to do magic, especially via the Elder Wand. According to any and all magical scans, he is a squib. (I think it was touched on last chapter, that Harry has magic, but being born a werewolf burned his magical pathways; imagine it like a vein getting blocked, or a nerve dying.) So far as anyone on the outside can tell, he's incapable of using a wand like a normal witch or wizard. But the Elder Wand is acting like a passage all of its own, and he can use magic through that. Which, because it doesn't have a physical form, looks like wandless magic. So, yes, he can do things like cast a summoning charm or apparate, but he cannot do so through an actual wand, it's always wandless. (The wand Voldemort made is special in that it's using its own set of, shall we say, blueprints for the spells, as well as magic siphoned into it via another source. If you gave that wand to a normal witch or wizard, they could only cast those specific spells so long as it had a charge, same as a squib or muggle, because it doesn't have a core.)
Because there's no way for Harry to explain this ability, and because it's relatively easy to hide his use of it, he's not telling anyone about it.
Hopefully that clears things up for everyone?
For ages at the start of this chapter, Harry is 5. (Will is 4 and Chris is 1.)
Cross-posted to Archive of Our Own and LiveJournal.
Chapter Five – Using Gentle Words to Shelter Me
-0-
On the weekend before Chris' second birthday, the Potters received an unexpected visitor.
Everyone was indoors, because – surprise, surprise, it was March – it was gross out. Harry had a picture book in his lap, Will leaning against his side and mostly managing to read it out loud, with Harry letting him know when he got something wrong, then helping him figure out what the word was, all without actually speaking. (Sirius seemed to think it was the greatest thing ever, and liked to sit across from them and watch, though he wasn't there that afternoon.) James was 'helping' Chris play with magical blocks that changed colours, while Lily hummed along to the wireless in the kitchen while making something sweet. (Harry wasn't completely clear on what, but it smelled delicious. James had already tried to get a taste, only to be chased back to the living room by sentient knives, so Harry wasn't even going to try, even though he knew his mum wouldn't turn knives on him.)
Everyone in the living room looked up at the knock. Harry looked at Will, who answered by furrowing his brows and pressing a finger to his lips. "Secret?"
Harry bit his lip against a giggle and shook his head.
James got up and answered the door as Lily came to the doorway between the living and dining rooms. "Peter?!" James exclaimed.
"Heya, Prongs," Peter's voice said from outside, muted by the falling rain. "Can I come–"
"No," Lily snapped, stalking forward, spatula in one hand held like a wand. (Harry half suspected his mum could use it as one, too, if she was determined enough.) "Harry, take your brothers upstairs."
"What?" Will complained, drowning out Peter's hopeful plea.
Harry shook his head and pointed towards the stairs as he went to collect Chris. Chris was as happy as Will to be forced to leave, but Harry could pick him up, and Will followed when Harry frowned at him until he moved.
Upstairs, away from their parents, Harry quietly explained, "Peter was Dad's friend, but he started telling their secrets, so Dad and Mum haven't spoken to him in..." He shook his head. "Before Chris was born."
"Why's he here now?" Will demanded, while Chris made an adorable pouty face that Harry was pretty sure was his version of a scowl.
"I don't know," Harry admitted before he sighed. "I can make a guess, but it's complicated and political and involves a lot of stuff that you don't fully understand yet."
Will made a face. "Nuh-uh. Don't care that much."
"Yes, I rather thought that would be your response."
Will stuck his tongue out at Harry, then walked off to look at the shelf of picture books against one wall, while Chris toddled off to find a stuffed animal to chew on.
Harry snuck out into the upstairs hall and poked his head into the stairwell, listening to see if he could figure out what was going on, but someone had thought to put up silencing charms, and he scowled. He could get past them easily, but he was uneasy about leaving his brothers alone just because he wanted to know what was up with the rat. He did take a deep breath, though, and ascertained that Peter had managed to talk his way into the house. Likely, Lily was more willing to play nice when Harry and his brothers were out of sight, and therefore out of spell range, and he suspected his parents were as interested as Harry in why Peter would come back now.
So, sighing, Harry resigned himself to a watered-down version later and went back to their room to keep an eye on his brothers.
Reading between the lines of what Lily and James explained over dinner, Harry surmised that Peter, now that Voldemort was willing to side with squibs and muggleborns, had hoped to find a warmer reception from his former friends. Which, well, was most certainly not what he found, but he did manage to worm his way into a second chance, as Lily offered, "You'll meet him when he comes for a visit next month. If he freaks you out, Will, you have Mum's permission to summon something into the back of his head."
Will grinned widely, while James laughed and Harry rolled his eyes. Chris attempted to roll his eyes too, but he just ended up going cross-eyed, and Harry had to look away before he laughed.
Peter returned on the tenth of April, and James let him in with a strained smile. Sirius was performing his self-given duty of sitting on the couch and smiling like all hell was about to break loose in the general direction of the front door, Will sitting next to him and trying to emulate his expression (which he managed a little too well for Harry's comfort, honestly). Meanwhile, Harry and Chris were sitting on the floor, pushing a ball back and forth, and Lily and Remus were in the kitchen, gathering snacks and drinks.
Peter swallowed upon seeing Sirius, and offered a shaky smile. "Hey, Padfoot. It– It's been a while."
"Has it?" Sirius replied, still smiling nastily. "I hadn't noticed your absence."
"Sirius," Remus chastised as he stepped out of the kitchen with a tray, Lily behind him. "Hello, Peter."
Peter visibly relaxed at the lack of open hostility. "Remus. Lily. Hi."
"Peter," Lily replied stiffly as she sat her tray on the coffee table. "You remember Harry," she offered once her hands were empty, motioning as she spoke, "and Will, I expect. The youngest is Chris."
"I do remember you two," Peter agreed. "You've grown a lot. Do either of you remember me?"
Will shook his head and answered for both of them as Harry helped Chris pick out some food, "Not me, but Harry remembers you. He said you were telling Muma and Daddy's secrets on them."
Peter looked rather taken aback. "I wasn't– I–"
"Tell the truth, Wormtail. Assuming you even can," Sirius ordered, his smile turning into something more approaching a snarl.
Harry reached out and grabbed Will's arm, tugging him away from his and Chris' godfather.
"Stop," Lily snapped, looking towards Harry and his brothers. Chris was clinging to Harry's shirt, distressed by Sirius' tone, and Will was looking confused by the turn everything had taken in response to his matter-of-fact comment. "If you want to have a spat, you can do it outside, but it won't be around the boys, and it certainly won't be in the house! There's enough magic being thrown around this house with Will's lights."
Will, expectedly, took that as his cue to flick out some lights over the food and tea offerings, flashing a winning smile he'd stolen from Sirius when Lily gave him a resigned look.
"That's amazing!" Peter called, sounding honestly impressed.
Will, who usually couldn't resist praise, shook his head and admitted, "Harry showed me how."
Peter wasn't the only one to shoot Harry a startled look, because Will had never explained how he'd figured out his trick, but he was the only one to say, "But, how could Harry teach you anything? He's a squib."
The adults turned incredulous looks on Peter, as if disbelieving he would be so crass regarding Harry's disability.
Harry rolled his eyes and wrote a quick note on a napkin, then handed it to Sirius once he got his attention. Sirius snorted in amusement before reading out, " 'Question not the Harry, for the Harry knows all things. Also, the tea is getting cold.' "
"Well, he's not wrong about the tea," Lily admitted, and the adults all converged on the nibbles while Harry ushered his brothers out of the way, their snacks and tea already settled (though Harry had to carry Chris' tea with his own).
"You're still not speaking, Harry?" Peter asked once everyone had settled. He'd ended up sitting on the floor, as no one had bothered magicking him up a chair, and he didn't seem much inclined to do so himself.
Harry shrugged and shook his head.
"He talks to Chris and Will," Remus offered with a fond little smile for Harry, "but that's it. Even the neighbourhood children seem to believe he's completely mute."
Peter offered Harry a shaky smile. "Trying to prank the Marauders?"
James snorted. "Hard to prank someone when we've already caught on, Wormy," he pointed out. But then he seemed to think about it for a moment and turned a suspicious gaze on Harry. "You."
Harry put on his most innocent smile.
"Now he's pranking you, Prongs," Sirius offered, while Will and Chris both laughed, Will leaning against Harry's shoulder. "Let it go."
Peter shook himself and shifted to take something out of a pocket. "Forgot that I bought something for the boys," he offered before taking out his wand and unshrinking what turned out to be a smallish briefcase. "Everyone likes colouring-in books, right?" he added a bit helplessly.
"They do," Lily agreed as James accepted the case and passed it down the line to Will, who gave it a frown and made no move to take it.
Harry rolled his eyes and poked his brother in the side before accepting the case. He clicked it open and all three of them peeked inside.
Will let out an excited shout and grabbed for the colouring-in books and colour wands, which were magical in nature. Which meant you touched one of the wands to the page, and everything between the nearest black lines turned that colour; great for backgrounds and changing a colour after you decided you didn't like it, but not so much for making any designs or changing what the picture was in any way. Harry thought they were lazy, and had made a point of only accepting muggle colouring-in books and materials, but Will loved the bloody things. (Chris had never had opportunity to use one, since Will had used up all the ones they'd originally been bought, and he was happy enough using the muggle sort, that no one bothered getting magical toys that one of them refused to touch.)
Harry gently swatted Will's hand and, when he turned to Harry with a pout, Harry pointed at Peter. Will sighed, then offered Peter an honest smile and said, "Thank you! Harry won't use them, because he says it's colouring for idiots, but I like them."
Peter let out a startled laugh. "Right," he agreed, looking at James. "Too clever for his own good."
James glanced towards Harry, who was collecting his and his brothers' tea things while Will pulled out the colouring supplies and urged Chris to join him. "You have no idea," James said.
Things rather devolved into 'how is this person we all knew' discussions after that, so Harry rolled his eyes and went to collect his own colouring things.
Harry's sixth birthday was the first celebration Peter joined them for since his colours had been shown. Will had decided that he actually liked 'Uncle Wormy' – a name that Sirius had insisted on the first time he heard Will referring to him as 'Uncle Peter' – and Harry tolerated him for his brother's sake. Chris didn't seem to much care either way, though he did enjoy the magical colouring supplies he kept providing. (The adults, unsurprisingly, were generally all of the same mind as Harry: they weren't fond of Peter, but they were willing to try it out, and so long as he got on with the children, he was welcome. Not that they were obvious about it where Harry and his brothers could see or hear.)
Voldemort had sent another gift that year, in a box the size of a colouring-in book. Harry eyed it suspiciously, even as James picked it up and turned it over, frowning. "Another one," he complained, clearly remembering the similarly unsigned gift from the year before. He sighed and handed it back to Harry. "Well, let's see what it is this time."
"Another one?" Peter asked quietly as Harry carefully slid the paper off.
"This is the second unsigned gift Harry's received. No one will admit to sending them to him," Lily explained.
"And if Harry knows who it is," Sirius muttered, "he's not saying."
Inside the box was a thin notebook with a hard cover and a muggle biro. Harry raised an eyebrow at the biro, then flipped open the cover of the notebook. The paper within was lined, and Voldemort had left a note on the first page, written in Atlantean, same as his last personal message to Harry:
'I suspect you'll get some use out of a talking notebook, given it's easier to dumb yourself down in writing than it is speaking. Write what you wish on the page, crossing out anything you don't like, then tap the symbol in the corner, and it will speak the words out loud for you. It only works with the supplied biro, and the magic is in the binding of the book, so any pages ripped out will lose the ability. The book has an infinite number of pages, so don't concern yourself with running out.
'If you bring it with you next time you sneak into my private rooms, I'll tie it to you, so there's no chance of any muggles getting a hold of it and activating it.'
Harry stared at the message for a long moment before shaking his head at how unbelievably nice this Voldemort was when he felt like it. Then he turned it to the next page and considered what he wanted to write. When he remembered his decision that his first words be that he loved his parents, he grinned and set pen to paper.
The adults were still discussing Harry's mysterious benefactor – current bets were on it being a werewolf, given how few magical people Harry'd had any real interaction with – when Harry finished, and he cleared his throat, looking at them expectantly until they all shut up and looked at him.
"So, it's a book," Sirius said, clearly unimpressed.
Harry grinned, then pressed the biro against the symbol that had started flashing at the top of the page as soon as he'd started writing on it. "Mum, Dad, I love you."
James' eyes went wide, while the other Marauders looked on in shock. Lily, though, crunched through discarded wrapping paper and wrapped Harry in a hug. "I love you too, baby," she said, her voice wet.
"So," Sirius said, failing at sounding casual and unimpressed, "it's a talking book."
"Someone out there really likes him," Remus commented quietly as James joined Lily in attempting to squeeze the life out of Harry.
When Harry finally managed to escape his parents so he could put his things away, Will joined him, wearing an uncertain frown. With Remus in the house, Harry wouldn't chance talking to his brothers unless it was absolutely necessary, so he just tilted his head to one side in question once they'd got upstairs.
"It sounds like you," Will explained, pointing at Harry's new notebook. "It's your voice."
Harry blinked at that, then snorted and leant close to whisper in his brother's ear, "I'm not surprised."
Will's eyes went wide and he whispered back, "You know who it is?"
Harry nodded and then – finally having dropped his things onto his bed and having both hands free – opened to the first page he'd used and wrote, 'You wouldn't remember him. Don't tell Mum and Dad.'
Will frowned at the page for a long moment, quietly sounding the words out under his breath. Once he figured it out, he nodded in understanding and pressed his finger to his lips.
Harry smiled back and pressed his finger to his own lips before motioning with his head that they should re-join the family.
Chris had followed the adults into the kitchen, looking hopefully towards the cake, but Lily refused to cut it until Harry and Will joined them.
"So, pup," Sirius said as Harry settled into his spot at the table, "how does the notebook work?"
Harry ignored him for long enough to blow out his candles, then innocently opened to Voldemort's Atlantean note and pointed at it.
"They are...very pretty scribbles," Sirius allowed, because the Atlantean alphabet bore little resemblance to the Roman lettering that English used.
Harry put on a confused expression, then turned to a new page and used it to ask, "You can't read it?"
"I–" Sirius shot him a suspicious look. "No. No, I cannot. I take it you can?"
Harry nodded and had the notebook say, "Of course. It's the directions for how to use the notebook. If you can't read it, you'll just have to wonder forever."
Sirius huffed and gave James a helpless look. "He's spent too much time around me."
James grinned at him. "We could ban you from the house, if you think it would help."
"Yes, please," Remus muttered.
"Seconded," Lily declared.
"Traitors to the cause!" Sirius declared and everything devolved.
The next time he had the chance to go up to his room, Harry pulled the first page with Voldemort's note out of the book and hid it in one of the blocks he'd attached to the bottom of his bed frame, the one which had the Atlantean books inside. The container with Voldemort's horcruxes was next to it, and another block with possible gifts for Voldemort was on the other side of that. They'd all been hit with a notice-me-not charm, to keep anyone from snooping under his bed for a lost toy and finding them.
He stopped by Voldemort's room a couple days later, after James and Lily announced that he would be trying the muggle school thing again that September, so the dark lord could key it to him. Voldemort was clearly amused, though he understood Harry's determination when he explained that he'd be going back to muggle school.
Harry's new teacher, Ms Nilsen, seemed a little uncertain about how to handle Harry's 'disability' at the start, but the children who had remained friends with Harry during the intervening year were quick to assure her that it wouldn't be a problem. Harry was also happy to prove that his parents had taught him to write, and he was perfectly capable of communicating that way, if his usual game of charades didn't work.
Will was an absolute misery, according to Lily, and while Remus was willing to come by and teach him things while Harry was at school, Will had decided he didn't care if Harry wasn't there to help him. He would perk up when Harry got home, walking back from the school with his friends, but still. That wasn't any help to Lily while Harry was gone.
"I'm half tempted to pull you out again," Lily admitted to Harry quietly one afternoon the second week of term. "It sounds horrible, me pulling you because your brother can't deal with you being gone, but I'm about at my wit's end with him."
Harry tapped his pencil against the homework he'd been working on, wondering if there was anything he could do to help. He remembered how the muggles had developed various means of immediate communication over distances, in his last reality, with their mobile phones and the little messages traded between them. The goblins had developed a similar system, given the difficulty in using owls while much of your life was spent underground, using goblin magic. Harry'd wondered, off and on over the years, if there was a way to do something similar with human magic, but between house-elves and having a limited number of people he'd really cared to keep up with, he'd never been bothered enough to try. Now, though...
'Give it until the end of term. If Will doesn't get better, at least you won't be pulling me mid-term?'
"Fair enough," Lily decided and left Harry to his work.
Between schoolwork, dodging his brothers and parents, and being dragged out to play with his friends, it took Harry a little over a month to figure out how to spell two – three, once he realised he couldn't leave Chris out, and it would be easier to spell all of them at once, rather than adding his in a couple years – pieces of paper so they could trade messages. He felt like he should have managed it quicker, but he sighed at himself and shook his head; technically, he was a squib, so he shouldn't have been able to pull this off at all.
He caught a bit of time in the loo one afternoon after the project was done and – disguising himself to look more like a midget adult than a child, and taking some money he'd borrowed from his parents' room – went into London to rent an owl to send the slim package.
He'd managed to time everything perfectly, as the owl arrived not long after Lily and James had gone back downstairs after tucking the three boys in. It tapped on the window next to Harry's bed, and he slid out of bed to accept the package while both of his brothers perked up, curious eyes reflecting the light of the almost-full moon.
Harry held still long enough to make sure their parents hadn't heard anything, then stepped quietly across the room. He sat on the end of Will's bed, close enough that Chris could hear him in his crib. "I may have mentioned to my benefactor that I miss being able to talk to you two while I'm in school," he offered, and both of their eyes lit up.
Harry smiled and opened the package, letting four pieces of paper fall out onto his lap. The only one with writing on it was a section he'd copied out of one of his Atlantean books, but it served his purposes for looking like a letter from Voldemort, explaining how to use the papers.
Once he'd finished appearing to read it, he picked up the three papers and pointed to the row of letters at the top: H, W, C, and E. "We'll each have to smudge a little bit of blood on ours," he cautioned, "but once we do, you write the message you want to send, then you tap the letter of whoever you want to send it to. It's got a sort of endless store of ink inside which it uses to write any incoming messages, and it soaks the ink back up again once you've cleared the message, so its constantly replenishing itself."
Will patted his arm. "Just...show us?" he requested, looking confused.
Harry winced, reminded that his brothers were not-quite-five and two; even if they'd understood the magic that went into the project, they didn't care about the hows, so long as it worked. "Let me get my knife," he whispered, and hurried back over to his side of the room, to get the quill-sharpening kit Sirius had got him as a joke. He pulled out the small knife and brought it back over to Will's bed. "Like this," he whispered, nicking his thumb and smearing it over the 'H' on one of the papers.
The paper glowed briefly and the 'H' vanished, then it fell dormant. Harry stuck his thumb into his mouth, licking the wound to speed up his preternatural healing a bit, then turned to Will. "Just a prick," he promised, and Will took a deep breath before nodding and holding his hand out to Harry.
Harry quickly nicked his brother's thumb with a clean part of the blade and carefully guided it down to rub over the 'W' on one of the other sheets. As the paper glowed and the letter vanished, Harry used his fake wand to heal the wound.
"There's one for you too, Chris," he offered to his youngest brother. "Even though you can't really use it yet. We can wait until next year, when Will starts attending school, before doing yours?"
Chris considered that for a long moment, looking uncertain.
"I'll read you any messages Harry sends," Will promised.
Chris nodded at that, and smiled. " 'Kay," he whispered. "Get later. Sees now?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed, pulling two biros out of his pocket, which he'd had in there since he'd changed for bed. He handed one to Will, then sat back down on his brother's bed, tilting the paper so they could see what he was doing. "Write a message," he instructed, writing, 'Hi, Will! :)' "Then you touch your finger to the person you're sending it to–" he touched the 'W' "–and–"
Text appeared on Will's paper. He immediately scribbled something back and his scrawl appeared on Harry's paper after a moment. 'It works!' he read and grinned.
"Hey, one last thing," he cautioned as Will turned to hide his paper somewhere. When Will turned back to him and Chris peeked over the top of his crib again, Harry pointed to the 'E'. "If you want to erase a message, because it's getting too crowded, or someone's coming to see what you're up to, you touch the 'E', then the message you want to get rid of, then the 'E' again." He showed them how by erasing his own message. "If you need to clear it quick, tap the 'E' twice real quick."
Will did that to his, and his paper cleared of everything but the row of letters at the top. "That's cool," he decided, grinning up at Harry.
"It really is," Harry agreed, clearing Will's message to him, so his own paper was blank.
Will set his paper and biro on the bed, then wrapped his arms around Harry. Harry hugged him back, just barely managing to hold his strength back so he didn't hurt his brother. "Thank you," Will whispered, sounding choked.
"Oh, Will," Harry whispered, and kissed the top of his brother's head. "I don't like seeing you lonely, any more than I like leaving you and Chris all day. But we've all got to leave eventually, that's a part of life." He tapped Chris' unused paper on the bed next to him, the paper crinkling. "There's nothing I can do about that, nothing I can do about going to school, but we can still keep in contact. Still promise we'll always be there for each other." He looked up at Chris. "All three of us."
" 'Ever," Chris promised.
Will nodded and pulled back far enough he could look between Harry and Chris. "Forever and ever," he swore.
After that, there wasn't much else to do but all go to bed. Harry slipped Chris' paper in with his completed colouring-in books, where no one was likely to find it, and slipped his own paper into his backpack. The paper with the Atlantean scribbles he crumpled up and tossed in the bin. If Lily got curious and opened it, it would tell her nothing interesting, especially since the only dictionary currently not down in Atlantis itself, was residing with Voldemort.
Will was...extremely chatty the next day, and it was probably for the best that Harry didn't actually need to pay attention to his lessons, because his brother wasn't inclined to give him a moment's peace. He'd, wisely, cast notice-me-not charms on the papers while he'd been working on them, adding exceptions for himself and his brothers, which was likely the only reason no one wondered why he was constantly writing on a single piece of paper, which kept writing back.
During the following day, with Will's mood much improved, Remus came over to try and teach him things. Will started out refusing, complaining to Harry that Remus was trying to make him read when he could be talking to Harry, but Harry rolled his eyes at his brother and pointed out, 'You're reading now. Go wow Uncle Remus with your reading skills so I can focus on my own lessons for a bit. If you have trouble with anything, you know where I am. ;)'
He knew his brother well enough to expect that Will had huffed a bit and pouted to himself for a moment, before realising Harry was right and agreeing to read with Remus for a bit. He also knew Will well enough to know that, once Remus distracted him with a book, he'd forget about writing Harry for at least an hour, which would give him plenty of time to catch up in the class work they were supposed to be doing.
Brothers, he thought, trapped between fondness and exasperation.
The day Snape came for his yearly visit, while he and Lily were in the kitchen, Will brought a piece of paper over to the corner of the living room where Harry was reading one of his Atlantean books, well-illusioned to look like a chapter book for young readers to anyone thinking to peer over his shoulder. (He'd figured most people would expect his reading speed with the simpler books to match near enough to his speed with the actual thing, that no one would wonder at how regularly he turned the page.) He looked up as Will sat down next to him, cocking a curious eyebrow at him.
Will worried his lower lip for a moment, then held out the piece of paper, which Harry was surprised to recognise as the bit of copied Atlantean he'd thrown in the bin two months back. "Can you teach me?" he requested.
Harry blinked at his brother a few times, then carefully closed his book. After a quick glance towards the kitchen – this was not a conversation he could have via writing or charades – he motioned that they should stand and head up to their room. Will frowned, but nodded, so they both got up and made their way upstairs, Chris trailing after them once he'd realised they were leaving the ground floor.
Upstairs, Harry took the paper from his brother and ran his fingers over the fancy script. "It's Atlantean," he explained to his watching brothers, "the lost language of the people of Atlantis. I've always been able to read it, I don't know why, but when my benefactor found that out, well..." He shrugged. "It was a good way to keep Mum and Dad from finding out who he is."
"Dangerous?" Chris asked, looking worried.
Harry considered that for a moment, then sighed and sat on the floor. "He's very dangerous," he admitted, and both his brothers gasped as they joined him on the floor, "but he doesn't mean me any harm, doesn't mean any of us harm. That said, he and Mum and Dad have never really got on, so it's best they remain unaware who he is. Okay?"
They both nodded, wide-eyed and ever-so trusting. Harry felt a little dirty skirting around the truth about this, but he also knew they were far safer not knowing that Voldemort had taken an interest in the well-being of their elder brother.
Harry sighed again, looking down at the paper in his hand. "I don't know that I can actually teach you Atlantean, Will," he admitted, because the only language he'd even vaguely taught someone else was Death's language, and learning that was more about having and unlocking your own innate ability, than it was memorising grammar and vocabulary.
Will slumped, looking wholly dejected.
Harry bit the inside of his mouth. "I can teach you the alphabet, though," he decided, because that only had a few more characters than the Latin alphabet, and it matched up relatively well. "You can use it as a code, practise by writing your messages to me in it."
Will brightened a little at that. "Mum and Dad'll never know what we're saying!"
Harry smiled and nodded. "Exactly. An alphabet just for us."
"And Chris, too, once he can," Will insisted, looking over at Chris.
Chris nodded.
Will turned back to Harry. "Can we start now?"
Harry shrugged and got up. "No time like the present," he agreed, and both of his brothers smiled widely. "Let's go back downstairs, though, so Mum doesn't freak out if she looks out to see us. I'll write you up a guide and we can practise writing notes back and forth, okay?"
"Yeah!"
So they went back downstairs and Harry ripped a sheet out of his speaking notebook to write up a guide for Will, then sat back with his messaging paper and book, and waited for Will to, painstakingly, trace out the complicated shapes of the letters he wanted. Harry was easily able to correct his shapes or how he spelt a word, all without speaking, and would go back to his book while Will worked on another message, or translated one that Harry had written for him.
It was an interesting learning experience all around, especially as Harry's mind, burdened with language skills that were Death-given and absolute, often tried to translate the symbols as Atlantean, first, before realising the words were English, even if the alphabet was not. He had to learn to train himself to see the letters translated into their Latin counterparts separately from translating the language itself, and it was a challenge he'd never undertaken before. Which, as old and travelled as he was, new experiences were always a treat.
He began to wonder, as Will improved, if he could teach his brother Atlantean, the actual language. It could prove fun, if Will was willing to put the work into it.
Well, he decided as a new message from Will appeared, we'll revisit the idea once he's learnt the alphabet well enough that he doesn't have to look at the key. And, too, it's not really something we should tackle until summer, when I won't have to split my attention between him and my lessons.
Harry gave Voldemort some stone tablets from Mayan temples for his birthday that year, with a translation of all of them.
"He has no idea how you managed the translations," Merope told him when Death let Harry know she'd wanted to talk to him. Her eyes were bright and happy, so much more alive than she'd been when Harry had first come across her, staring listlessly through the veil at Voldemort's sleeping form. "He's half convinced himself that you had someone here translate them, but then he looks towards his stack of Atlantean books and starts to question it again. It's so very much fun to watch."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible mother?" Harry teased, amused. "I'm pretty sure you're not, actually, supposed to enjoy your son's misery."
Merope scoffed. "What do you know about being a mother?"
Harry snorted. "Not a damn thing," he admitted before shaking his head. "Did he leave a note out demanding my presence or anything?"
"Not yet," Merope admitted, reaching forward and trying to get Harry's flyaway hair to behave for a moment. Harry just smiled at the attempt, resigned. "How was your New Years?"
"Chaotic. Uncle Sirius decided, last year, that the best way to ring in the new year for us kids, since kissing wasn't a thing, was to throw us into the air and catch us."
"Oh dear."
Harry nodded. "Will thinks it's great fun. Chris and I hid behind Uncle Remus and he was nice enough to protect us."
Merope laughed, and Harry couldn't help but grin at her happiness; after everything she'd gone through in life, and her lonely existence in the afterlife, Harry thought it was only fair that he sit and amuse her for an hour or so.
"And that, Master, is why you are my favourite," Death thought to him privately, nowhere in sight.
Well, there was no way Harry was begging off any time soon, after that.
For Harry's seventh birthday, Voldemort sent him a potions kit.
"I don't like this person," James declared as soon as Harry pulled the cauldron out of the too-small box.
Lily snorted. "Ignore your father, Harry," she suggested as Harry found the letter Voldemort had put in the cauldron with various necessities. "What does it say?"
The letter was in Atlantean again, so after he handed it off to Will to puzzle over – Harry had taught him a few simple words already, though Will was finding learning a language far harder than learning an alphabet – he put biro to paper in his notebook and had it explain for him, "It occurred to my benefactor that being a squib doesn't keep me from making potions, and Mum did pretty good at it in school. If I'm never going to attend Hogwarts, it doesn't matter when I start learning potions making, so I might as well have the option to start learning whenever I'm interested."
"I like this person," Remus decided.
"Seconded," Lily agreed.
"You two do not get to keep doing that," Sirius insisted, looking more amused than anything else.
"But...potions?" James complained.
Lily pointed a stern finger at him. "Don't even. You do not get to ruin one of the few magical things Harry doesn't need a crutch for, just because you haven't grown out of your boyhood rivalry."
"It wasn't a riv–" Sirius managed before Lily hit him with a silencing charm.
"No talking, Sirius," Lily ordered calmly as she turned a glare on her husband.
James curled his shoulders inwards. "Harry?" he asked, failing at sounding anything but cowed. "Would you like help carrying your new potions supplies upstairs?"
Harry considered the cauldron for a moment, then shrugged and nodded; he could carry it himself, certainly, but it was probably kinder to give his father a few minutes away from his mum, while also letting him win some points for not being a complete prat.
"Mum's right," James said upstairs, as he set the cauldron down, "I shouldn't talk bad about potions. I don't like someone who's really good at it, but Mum likes it." He sighed and offered Harry a smile. "If you decide you want to be a non-magical potions master, you do it, Harry. And don't you ever let me or anyone else keep you from trying something new, just because they don't like it, okay?"
Harry nodded and walked forward to give his father a hug. Some days, the way James acted, it was hard to tell if he wasn't just a very big Potter kid. But, other days, he would say or do something that proved that he was every inch father material, despite everything.
"Let's go get some of that cake," James decided, and his grin was more kid than parent, but Harry expected that the chance to eat some of his mum's cake was deserving of that reaction.
Stand Against the Moon Chapters:
Pro | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05
06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12
Nose to the Wind Chapters:
1 - Death Once Again || 2 - Bring Out All the Good Inside Me || 3 - Death and Living Reconciled
4 - Orphan Man ||
7 - You Just Might Get it All || 8 - Never Want to Come Down || 9 - Only the Silence Remains
10 - Love is a Doing Word || 11 - Nothing Sacred || 12 - The Heart Yearns
13 - Mirrored in Your Stare || 14 - Camouflage Denial || 15 - Precious and Fragile Things
16 - Perfectly Reckless || 17 - Your Arms Feel Like Home || 18 - The Sun Will Set For You
19 - Your Love Has Always Been Enough || 20 - Keep Up This Charade || 21 - Truth Like a Blazing Fire
22 - Give Yourself a Try || 23 - Done Pleading Ignorance || 24 - Your Razorblade Caress of Love
25 - Summer's Scent Still Lingers || 26 - Burn Out the Stain || 27 - Final Masquerade
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