The Deepest Shelter in Town

With the festivities of Christmas over, Harry had indeed returned to the castle for the remainder of the holidays. Charlus had once more tried to convince him to return to the home of the Potters, and though he had been sorely tempted, he had politely declined.

With what he had learned about Dumbledore and the subsequent conversation with Nicholas, he needed some time alone to ponder it. He had also taken advantage of Hogwarts being bereft of students to empty out Slytherin's library.

The two trunks he had purchased whilst buying gifts were now full to the brim with the old tomes, many of which he was eager to delve into at his earliest convenience.

Along with this, when the new year had been welcomed, he had paid another visit to his recently acquainted contact in Knockturn Alley who had given him some good news.

He had found some very keen buyers of the venom, and Harry was already working on a consistent, yet trickling supply of the stuff that could be sold for quite the fortune.

The venom alone would see him living a considerably comfortable life for years to come, and though it would eventually run out, money was one less thing he needed to concern himself with.

The same could not be said about his thoughts on Dumbledore.

He had listened to what Nicholas said, but he could not help but blame his former headmaster for his inaction.

For the life of him, he could not comprehend why the man would wait so long to confront Grindelwald.

Thinking about it only served to induce a headache, and for now, he chose to ignore it, even if he could not look at Dumbledore the same way again.

With a sigh, he retrieved his wand from the bedside, his attention caught by the muggle newspapers he had gathered during a trip to buy some trainers.

So caught up he had been in what was happening in the wizarding world, that he had not given much thought to the impending conflict on the continent, something that could not be avoided when venturing into London.

He had simply been passing a newsagent on the high street when he had caught sight of the foreboding headlines.

Relations Between France and Italy Collapse over Stresa Front! (28/12/1935)

Harry didn't know what the Stresa Front was, but any dissolution of treaties and agreements was not a positive sign, and he even heard a group of muggles muttering amongst themselves about an unavoidable war on the horizon.

It had been a sobering moment for the teen, one of realisation that dampened his mood.

Wars didn't just happen overnight, he realised.

Leading up to the outbreak of fighting, there needed to be a complete collapse of diplomacy, one or both sides refusing to see reason.

He couldn't be certain why but learning of this rather bleak turn of events compelled him to look into it further, to understand the mood that was sweeping across Europe and beyond.

What he found held little promise of a peaceful solution, and even though he knew there would be none, he wanted to cling to any hope he could find.

Fortunately, or perhaps not so, with the festive season upon the country, the capitol came to a somewhat standstill, and he managed to scrounge some more newspapers out of the bin to see what else he could discover.

Soon enough, he wished he hadn't done so, any notion or idea of peace collapsing the more he read.

Uruguay Breaks Relations with Soviet Union (27/12/1935)

Conflict Continues Between Italy and Ethiopia (25/12/1935)

Soviet Submarine and Destroyer Numbers Quadrupled! (24/12/1935)

Italy Accused of Chemical Warfare on Ethiopians (23/12/1935)

He had stopped seeking further editions of newspapers after these. Having read less than a weeks' worth of front pages, he had seen enough to understand that the world was on the verge of collapse.

War was coming on two fronts, and for the most part, he was helpless to prevent it.

He had considered what could be done, but with so many nations seemingly intent on fighting one another, any effort he made would be fruitless.

War would commence in the coming years and the best he could do was prepare.

With a wave of his wand, he vanished the newspapers, not wanting to look upon the gloomy words anymore, and took his leave of the dormitory.

It was now January 4th, and the rest of the students were due to arrive at Hogsmeade within the next thirty minutes and he wanted to greet his friends when they departed the carriages at the school.

As such, he took a leisurely stroll through the castle, pausing occasionally to take in a painting or two that had become familiar to him over the years.

As much as the world he now lived in was different, everything about Hogwarts was exactly as he remembered it.

It was raining again when he reached the Entrance Hall, another drizzly, and miserable trip from the station for the students who hurried into the Great Hall from the downpour, and as expected, his Gryffindor housemates were amongst the last to arrive with Tiberius rubbing his shoulder in discomfort.

"Already?" Harry asked, amused.

Charlus chuckled as he clapped him warmly on the shoulder.

"Within five minutes," he explained. "What was your comment, Ogden?"

"I'm not repeating it," Tiberius huffed, shooting a furtive glance at Poppy who was looking at the boy, daring him to do so.

She smiled innocently at Ogden and Harry shook his head but scowled as a figure bumped forcefully into him, the same sensation washing over him that he had felt in Hogsmeade.

He turned to find himself confronted by a large group of Slytherins with Abraxus Malfoy grinning smugly at him from the centre.

Harry was ready to react immediately should any of them reach for their wands.

"We haven't forgotten what you did to Bulstrode and Stebbins," Malfoy warned, evidently feeling confident with so many of his peers around him.

Harry felt Charlus and Tiberius flank him, and he held up his hands to stop them as he smirked at Abraxus.

"Then reach for your wand, Malfoy," he urged, "or any of you for that matter, and let us see what will happen. What I did to those idiots is nothing compared to what I will do to the next one of you that attempts to harm me."

Those in robes trimmed with silver and green were taken aback and looked to the blonde for further instructions.

"Very well," Abraxus declared somewhat reluctantly, no longer meeting Harry's glare. "You brought this on yourself, Evans."

Before any of the Slytherins could bring their wands to bear, Harry had already cast his spell, and a loud screeching filled the Entrance Hall as his own wand fired a dozen blue needles of light towards his adversaries.

Each one crackled loudly as they collided with a golden dome that sprung up between Harry and the Slytherin students.

"What on earth is going on here?"

Professor Nott was fuming, her cheeks red and eyes wild as she stalked towards them.

"Evans attacked us," Malfoy immediately replied.

"Lying bastard!" Charlus seethed.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Nott shouted over the din, and the students fell silent. "You will all go to your house tables, and if I see even a finger twitch towards a wand, that person will be spend the night in the forbidden forest without it, understood?"

The Slytherins smirked as they walked away, though some shot Harry a cautious look.

"Evans, that was a dangerous spell to throw around. That will be ten points from Gryffindor. You are lucky that I was here to prevent it striking anyone."

"They would have gotten what they deserved," Harry muttered, sliding his wand up his sleeve as he headed into the Great Hall with the rest of the Gryffindors.

"What was that spell?" Minerva whispered.

"Just something that would have made them think twice before attacking me again. Nothing permanently damaging, I think," he added cryptically, ignoring the subtle nod of approval Arcturus Black sent his way.

"Are you okay?" Minerva asked as they took their seats, her hand gripping his under the table.

"I'm fine," Harry assured her, offering a smile as he tightened his grip around hers briefly. "I'm fine."

(Break)

Rosalina waited for the students to file out of the Great Hall when the welcome feast concluded to ensure there would be no further unpleasantness between the Gryffindors and Slytherins.

When she was content that they had gone their separate ways, she made her own towards the headmaster's office.

She knew that something was brewing between Evans and her former house, but she hadn't known things had deteriorated this rapidly and so badly that the boy she thought of as her protégé would attempt to cause such harm.

Not that the Slytherins didn't deserve it.

She had watched them provoke Evans and was proud that he had stood up for himself, though his method was what she was questioning.

The spell itself would not have killed anyone but could have seriously injured them and she found herself further surprised that the boy knew it.

It was an obscure spell, and not one commonly known. The boy would have had to read some questionable works to come across it.

It would send a sudden, short sharp jolt of electricity through the body of the victim, and could even cause some quite severe burns, not to mention the damage that could be done when the victim collapsed to the floor.

The stone one of the Entrance Hall would not have been forgiving.

She sighed as she reached the gargoyle that sprung aside for her.

Malfoy was going to get himself and his housemates hurt. Harry Evans had evidently had enough of avoiding conflict with them, and that did not bode well for the Slytherins.

She had seen what the boy was capable of when she'd duelled him, and she knew for certain that Abraxus, nor any of his housemates were up to the standard.

Black, perhaps, but he was seemingly not involving himself if his inaction was anything to go by.

"Come in, Rosalina," Dippet called before she could knock on the door. "What can I do for you?" he asked as she entered.

"Something needs to be done about Evans and the Slytherins," she said simply.

Dippet nodded grimly.

"I was just made aware of what occurred in the Entrance Hall," he huffed. "I will have a word with the Malfoy boy."

Rosalina shook her head.

"I think it is too late for that, headmaster. Abraxus believes himself beyond reproach. His arrogance and ego know no bounds. Any warning you give him will fall on deaf ears."

"Then what would you suggest?" Armando asked curiously.

"There is only one thing boys like Malfoy understand, and that is a show of strength, headmaster. With your permission, I will solve the issue between the boys, or attempt to, at least."

Dippet frowned thoughtfully before nodding.

"So long as it is done in a controlled manner and none are left with lingering injuries, you have my blessing. I hope you can put an end to the unpleasantness before it worsens."

"I will do my best," Rosalina assured him before taking her leave of the office.

She had meant what she said.

Malfoy would listen to none with how much his arrogance had increased. He would need a show of strength to quell him, and it just so happened that the boy he wished to exact some kind of petty revenge upon, was the very same that would be the one to deter him.

She just hoped that Evans would exercise enough self-control to not land himself in trouble.

(Break)

The buffoons were laughing amongst themselves, slapping one another on the backs as though they had achieved a great victory.

They hadn't.

If anything, they'd had a lucky escape, and were only prevented from being harmed by the intervention of Professor Nott. The shield she had erected was not one commonly used and would only be chosen if the caster was uncertain of what they faced or knew that it was the type of shield needed.

Arcturus suspected the latter in this case and doubted the fools he shared a living space with knew just how close they were to being seriously hurt.

Even Arcturus wasn't certain, the spell used by Evans not one he recognised.

He watched as a smarmy Abraxus regaled the rest of the house with his version of events, the lickspittles that sought his approval hanging on to his every word.

"He's lucky Nott came when she did," he declared.

"More like you were lucky," Dorea snorted from next to her brother, her rebuttal unheard over the cheering of the other Slytherins.

"You saw it too?" Arcturus asked amusedly.

"Everyone saw it," Dorea sighed. "They just don't want to admit how close they were to having the noses put out of joint, but it won't stop them. They will try again."

"And I will enjoy watching them fail."

"You're supporting Evans in this?"

"I'm supporting no one," Arcturus clarified, "but I will admit that there is a part of me that wants to see these bastards taken down a peg or two."

Dorea nodded her agreement.

"How are you, Arcturus? You've been really quiet since Christmas day."

The Black heir shrugged and shook his head.

"Because there is little that can be said," he muttered. "Father is not in his right mind, and he is making a foolish mistake. It will be up to me to clean up whatever mess he makes."

"But Perseus…"

Arcturus held up a hand to silence is sister.

"Denounced our name when it suited him, and now wishes to take it back as though he did not abandon us the first chance he got," he snapped. "He left us to deal with father when I was twelve-years-old, to look after you so he and Cassie could swan around with Grindelwald. Mark my words, Dorea, nothing good will come of this."

"I know," Dorea whispered worriedly. "What will we do?"

"We weather the storm as best we can. Until father dies, he is still the head of our family."

"Then it will be you."

"Unless Perseus is named as his heir once more," Arcturus pointed out.

"Then what?"

Arcturus shrugged.

"I don't know, Dorea. My only concern is keeping you safe and ensuring that we are not thrown into it with father and the others. If Grindelwald manages to reach England, it will be bad for everyone. What do you think will happen to a young woman that carries the most prominent name here?"

Dorea frowned.

"You will either be forced into a marriage to legitimise his presence here or taken against your will so that the Blacks remain compliant with his wishes. Call me paranoid if you will, but that is what I believe. I wouldn't even be surprised if father tries to arrange a marriage between you and one of Grindelwald's supporters to demonstrate his loyalty."

"He wouldn't," Dorea gasped.

Arcturus nodded grimly as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I won't let that happen to you," he assured her, "but now do you understand why all of this seems so pathetic to me?" he added, gesturing towards the Slytherins that were still baying for Evans' blood.

"It is pathetic," Dorea agreed.

"But I must still show an interest in it," Arcturus grumbled. "It is not important to me, but it is to others, and it will be remembered. It would be best if Evans puts them all in their place. They will be more compliant that way. Evans will likely be forced out of Britain by Lord Malfoy if Abraxus is harmed, but I couldn't care less about that."

"So, you are rooting for Evans?" Dorea asked with a grin.

"I am," Arcturus confirmed. "Only because he will quell this bloody rabble so that I don't have to deal with Abraxus if he decides to challenge me."

"Would he?"

"He's arrogant enough to try if he has the support, even though he knows he could not hope to win. It's like father taught me. 'Why raise my wand against my enemies when they can simply destroy themselves?'

Dorea smiled sadly.

It had been too long that she had heard her father say anything resembling wisdom. For the most part, he now rambled aloud, making little sense.

"Do you really think he believes his own crap?" she asked, frowning as she nodded towards Abraxus.

Arcturus chuckled.

"No, but he is in too deep now to back down," he replied amusedly. "A shit he may be, but he is not stupid enough to have missed how close to being hurt he was. No, what you're seeing there is a front to build up his support and save face. The one problem he does have, is that he will now have to back it up, and there's only one way to do that."

"He'll have to confront Evans again," Dorea realised.

"He will, but he won't do it alone, not unless Evans is smart enough to find a way of getting to him."

"Is he?"

"Malfoy probably doesn't even take a shit alone without one of that lot to hold his hand," Arcturus predicted, "but, I expect Evans will be ready for him at the very least. He wants to hurt Abraxus, and I for one will not be upset by it."

"But you'll be expected to intervene," Dorea pointed out.

"And I will use that to my advantage to pull the shits back in line," Arcturus replied with a smirk.

Dorea could only shake her head at her brother as he leered at the other Slytherins, almost excited by the prospect of watching them being dealt with by the Evans boy.

(Break)

Harry had never been a vengeful person. He'd learned not to be growing up having to put up with Dudley and the regular, but often bouts of violence he had endured. Any notion he'd ever had of revenge had been beaten out of him by the bigger boy or Vernon.

What could he have done?

He was a weaker, much smaller boy with no means of defending himself against his tyrannical uncle and morbidly obese cousin.

Harry was not that small, defenceless boy now, and hadn't been since his first year of Hogwarts where the magic he learned would have been more than enough to deal with his relatives.

Still, he had not become vengeful, and hadn't until recently.

He couldn't be certain if something within him had finally snapped at the loss of his godfather, or if this was another of the side effects of the ritual.

To him, it mattered not. He was still furious at the gall of Malfoy and his ilk to accost him in such a way, and he wanted them to try again. What was more was that he knew he would enjoy what he would do to them, and that was new.

He knew that he should be sickened that such a trait of Voldemort had become prominent within him, but as things were, he wasn't focusing on that.

His mind was firmly on taking them to task, showing them that he as a half-blood was better than them in every way.

Was he?

He nodded to himself, that same part of him that wanted to tear them limb from limb dismissing the question as a ridiculous thought to cross his mind.

"Are you alright there, Harry?" Charlus asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

Harry nodded as he pushed his plate away.

"I'm fine," he replied.

Charlus offered him an encouraging smile, and he ignored the look of concern Minerva sent his way.

"I'm fine," he reiterated to the girl sincerely.

He was.

He may be angry with Malfoy and the others who had decided to take up arms with him, but he wasn't going to allow them to ruin his mood. He would bide his time and wait for the inevitable opportunity to arise that he could handle that problem once and for all.

"Come on, we've got Defence," Charlus reminded them.

"Great," Harry muttered, the thought of spending two hours in a classroom with the Slytherins only serving to renew his thoughts of revenge.

"Ignore them," Charlus urged as they reached the classroom and most of the Slytherins that had involved themselves the previous evening were within, and apparently in rather high spirits.

Professor Nott was there also, her arms folded, but with her wand in hand, that she used to stack the tables neatly on one side of the room, leaving the centre bare.

She was not happy, her eyes narrowed, and when the last of the students entered, she slammed and locked the door with only a gesture of her clutched wand.

"Bags away," she instructed. "There will be no need of books today."

The teens complied, confused by the unusual start to the lesson, though they remained silent and the Slytherins looked less smug.

"Ogden, Longbottom, take a side of the room each," Nott continued.

Tiberius and Frank did so and waited for the woman to proceed.

"Today, we are going to duel," Nott announced. "The format is simple, the victor will remain, and the loser replaced by the next student I call upon. There will be no spells aimed to permanently debilitate or maim an opponent. Any that fail to comply with this will spend the rest of the year with Mr Pringle scrubbing toilets without magic. Do you understand?"

The students nodded, much of the smugness amongst some of them now absent.

"On my signal, you will begin," she said to Tiberius and Frank who had drawn their wands. "Go!"

Both wasted no time in trading blows, Frank casting a textbook stunning spell and Tiberius a blinding hex.

Frank avoided it and gave a nod of understanding, his next offering coming in the form of tooth-pulling charm.

They went back and forth for several minutes, each matching the other spell for spell, avoiding, and shielding where needed until they were breathing heavily from their efforts.

It was Frank that landed the winning blow, sending Tiberius sprawling as he disarmed him and the took shook hands out of mutual respect before Ogden joined the rest of the students.

"Stebbins, in you go," Nott called.

The Slytherin smirked, feeling rather smug that he would be going up against an already worn-out opponent.

Frank fought valiantly, but his duel with Tiberius had left him too depleted to mount any offense against the fresher Stebbins who overwhelmed the Hufflepuff with a barrage of rather unpleasant jinxes.

Frank did not offer a gesture of goodwill as he hobbled off to the side, his face awash with boils, and one of his eyes bleeding.

Harry's nostrils flared as Stebbins began celebrating, mocking Frank, the other Slytherins jeering along and congratulating him on such a 'fine performance'.

The posturing of the boy did not last long. Harry's pleading look towards Nott went ignored and without even acknowledging it, her lip curled slightly.

"Evans," she called, sobering Stebbins as Harry stood before him, his face giving nothing away, but his eagerness to take on the Slytherin threatening to overwhelm him.

"Professor…"

"GO!"

Stebbins protest was cut off as he fell to the floor with a scream, his wand clattering to the ground as he clutched at his broken fingers.

His fellow housemates were no longer jeering, their former mocking arrogance having been quelled by what Harry had done to Stebbins.

"Do you wish to continue?" Nott asked.

"No," Stebbins whimpered, making his way to the side-lines, avoiding the glare Harry sent his way.

"Parkinson, your turn," Nott instructed.

The boy seemed reluctant to do so, but after some whispered words of encouragement courtesy of Abraxus, he stepped forward, slowly drawing his wand.

"GO!"

Without preamble, Parkinson fired a duo of questionable cutting curses towards Harry who, taking inspiration from Nott, twirled away from them before sweeping up the debris of stone the spells gouged out of the wall behind him.

With some manipulation, he sent them towards his foe, transfiguring them into a hand that seized Parkinson around the throat.

The boy purpled, his eyes watering as he dropped his wand in submission, his efforts to free himself from the grip of Harry's creation proving to be futile.

"Evans, release him," Nott warned.

Harry snorted as he did so, giving his wand an extra flick.

When the stone construct yielded its' hold, it formed into a fist and punched Parkinson in the nose, dropping him with a sickening crunch.

The Slytherin students were in uproar, and they protested heatedly but were silenced by Nott.

"Evans, you will apologise," she insisted.

"Sorry Parkinson," he offered insincerely as he helped the boy to his feet, squeezing his hand unnecessarily hard and eliciting a gasp from the shaken boy. "I slipped."

None believed him, but faced with the challenging look of Harry, Parkinson nodded his acceptance before hurrying back to his peers.

"Professor…" Malfoy protested once more, though he fell quiet as Nott smiled sweetly at him.

"You were all so keen to fight amongst yourselves last night," she pointed out. "Isn't this what you wanted, Mr Malfoy?"

The boy scowled but said nothing.

"If I remember correctly, you were in fact, the most vocal about instigating the violence. Perhaps you should face Mr Evans next," Nott continued.

Malfoy did not appear to be pleased by the idea at all, but his housemates did not see this.

"Go on, Abraxus, put him in his place," one of them urged, his encouragement receiving a wave of cheering for the blonde.

"Wait…" Malfoy tried, holding up a hand.

"Didn't you say this was the kind of opportunity you wanted?" Arcturus Black interjected amusedly. "Just last night, you said you would love to get to Evans when he did not have Potter and the rest of the Gryffindors watching his back. Here is your chance, Malfoy. Show the mudblood that he is beneath you. That is what you said you would do."

"I didn't say that," Malfoy denied.

"Well, now you have your chance," Nott declared, gesturing for the boy to step forward, having ignored his protest.

With Arcturus Black having called him out for his prior comments, and a considerable number of his housemates looking on, Abraxus Malfoy had no choice but to step forward, his already pale skin becoming quite clammy as he visibly began to sweat across his brow.

"On my command," Nott said firmly.

The other students looked on eagerly, the Gryffindors, and Slytherins not hiding who they were rooting for, and the Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws a little more reticent.

Regardless of whom they wished to see emerge victorious, they were all aware of just how pivotal this moment was.

If Malfoy won, he would have proven to be a man of his word, but if he were to lose, it would be to someone he believed to be far below him in worth and ability.

"Begin!" Nott commanded.

Harry merely waited, revelling in the moment despite his mind screaming for him to attack. That part of him that wanted to hurt Malfoy also urged him to relish this moment, to enjoy it before the fallout was to be upon him.

That fallout was unavoidable. It would come, but he would enjoy this opportunity, not caring for what happened afterwards.

Malfoy stood was unmoving, waiting for Harry to make the first move, though he may have been frozen by the burning stare of his opponent, an expression that promised nothing but suffering.

His resolve broke first, and with fast and accurate wand movements, he cast his offering.

Harry steered the bonebreaker away, his own wand snapping into motion to save him, and ready his own attack.

To his credit, Abraxus shielded the first of the returned spells, and dodged the second, something that seemed to instil some confidence back within him.

The Slytherins cheered him on, and he went on the attack once more, his wand movements fluid and precise as he cast his spells at Harry who avoided each of them, his own casting not stopping.

Although Abraxus had evidently had training in the art, he had likely never been in a real fight.

Harry had.

He had stood against Voldemort himself, and though he had been outclassed beyond belief, he had experienced the adrenaline, the thrill, the feeling of the fight or flight instincts kicking in, and beyond all hope, he had survived.

Whether it was luck on his part or not, he yet breathed.

Abraxus's life could not have been more different than his own, and where Harry remained undeterred by the spells sent his way, Malfoy would flinch, and it became more prominent the longer altercation continued, and the more dangerous the spells became.

It was when the blonde delved into the truly darker practices that Harry's retaliation brought an end to the duel.

Malfoy took aim with his wand, the muttered curse one that Harry recognised that would rupture his stomach.

The Gryffindors and even the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to exception to this, their protesting cries ignored by Harry as he fired a series of spells in return.

In the space of a few heartbeats, the room had fallen silent, each pair of eyes transfixed on the crumpled form of Abraxus Malfoy as he wheezed, his legs twisted, facing the opposite way of their natural direction, and his right arm bent in a grotesque angle at the elbow.

"Enough!" Nott declared, tapping her desk with her wand. "You will all leave and immediately return to your common rooms, unless you need to visit the hospital wing, you will go straight there. Potter, Black, you will escort them. Not you, Evans," she added as Harry retrieved his bag, his every movement under fearful scrutiny from the Slytherins.

He merely nodded and looked unapologetically upon Abraxus as the other students filed out.

"Madame Morgana will arrive shortly," Nott explained. "When Abraxus is taken, you too will return to Gryffindor Tower where you will remain unless you are sent for."

Harry frowned but did not argue with the woman who would not have taken kindly to such.

"Goodness me, what happened here?" the voice of the healer spoke only a moment later as she entered the room.

"A duelling accident," Nott answered simply.

Morgana said nothing, but began tending to the groaning Abraxus, securing him to a solid board before levitating him towards the door.

"I know," Nott said to the healer as the woman turned to her. "Do what you must."

Madame Morgana looked uncertain, but took her leave, levitating Malfoy out ahead of her.

"What's going to happen?" Harry asked.

"Well, Lord Malfoy will be informed and try to kick up quite the stink about this," Nott answered matter-of-factly. "Not to worry, Evans. I will handle it."

"Won't you get into trouble?"

Nott shook her head.

"He will be insistent on it, at first, but then he will remember that my brother is one of his most influential supporters in the Wizengamot and will turn his attention elsewhere."

"To me?"

Nott nodded and Harry shrugged uncaringly.

"Lord Malfoy may have considerable influence at the Ministry, but he has no power here," Nott offered reassuringly. "Oh, he will try to have you expelled, but it will amount to nothing. The headmaster will never allow it."

But you said he can make my life difficult," Harry pointed out.

"And you did not heed my words," Nott returned. "Despite my advice, you tried to curse several students from influential families last night. I thought this was what you wanted."

"So, you did this for me?"

"Partly," Nott replied with a frown, "but mostly so that this did not escalate into a much bigger problem. This way, what you did was within the classroom and under my supervision. Were you to have harmed them the way you attempted last night, the aurors would have been called and your fate would have been in the hands of the Ministry, where Lord Malfoy does hold sway."

"I didn't really think of it like that," Harry muttered.

"No, because you are young and stupid, Evans," Nott tutted. "Besides, I did not wish to see your talents squandered, not when you have much to offer the world. Lord Malfoy will be furious, but it will pass, and even if he does bear a grudge against you, by the time you leave this castle, you will be an adult, and a very well trained one if I have anything to do with it. Now, return to the tower. I expect you will be sent for soon enough."

Harry nodded as he shouldered his bag.

"Thank you, Professor," he offered sincerely as he took his leave of the room, feeling much better than he had before entering it, and oddly unworried by what repercussions the Malfoys would insist upon.

(Break)

"Well, I think we all knew that was going to happen eventually," Charlus sighed as he and Black escorted Frank, Stebbins, and Parkinson to the hospital wing.

Arcturus snorted.

"The question is, what happens now?" he replied.

"Nothing good," Charlus huffed, "but Malfoy had it coming."

"He did," Arcturus agreed. "He picked a fight with someone he knew nothing about and paid the price. Unfortunately, it will be Evans that pays it next."

Charlus nodded.

"You didn't seem so keen to involve yourself," he pointed out.

"It wasn't my problem," Arcturus shrugged. "Malfoy instigated it at the beginning of the year, ignored my warnings, and now he has reaped what he has sown. As far as I'm concerned, he got off lightly, as did you morons," he added to the cowed Slytherins listening in.

"He did," Charlus agreed. "He's lucky that Harry didn't cast anything worse."

Arcturus eyed Charlus questioningly.

"Why have the two of you gotten so close? I know you don't really care about blood status, but why him?"

"We just get on," Charlus answered. "We share interests, and we learn a lot from each other."

"Understandable," Arcturus conceded, "but what now?"

"I don't know," Charlus mumbled unhappily.

"Malfoy Senior will not like this."

"He'll throw his toys out of the pram," Charlus agreed.

"But there's not much he can do," Arcturus pointed out. "It happened during a classroom duel. He won't have a leg to stand on."

"Just like Abraxus," Charlus chuckled.

Arcturus snorted amusedly.

"Just like his idiot son."

(Break)

Armando rubbed his eyes tiredly having learned of what transpired during the sixth-year Defence lesson, though as Rosalina explained, it was better that it had been dealt with in there than where one or several students could have been seriously injured.

"How is young Malfoy?" he asked.

"Making quite the song and dance about his injuries," Rosalina answered with a shrug. "He is fine. Morgana righted him, and he will only experience a little discomfort over the next few days. The other students were patched up easily enough also."

"And when can I expect to hear from Lord Malfoy?"

Before Rosalina could answer, the fireplace to the headmaster's office roared into life, notifying Armando that a parent wished to speak with him.

With a deep sigh, he flicked his wand towards the flames and the stormy expression of Magnus Malfoy appeared.

"I want a word with you, Dippet," he spat.

"Lord Malfoy," Armando greeted. "I suspected you would. Give me a moment, and I will allow you to enter."

Malfoy grunted and his head vanished, though the flames remained their emerald hue.

"I need you to take this to Albus immediately," Armando instructed his Defence Professor as he scratched away with his quill. "He will know what to do."

Rosalina took the note, and Armando waited until she had left the office before granting Lord Malfoy entry, not relishing the impending conversation.

The tall blonde exited the fireplace, stamping his botts to clear them of the ash before standing before the headmaster and looking at him questioningly.

"Where is my son?" he demanded.

"I believe that he is now finishing up in the hospital wing, no worse for wear."

"I will be the judge of that. You will have him brought to me now."

Armando nodded and scratched out another note, calling for an elf to deliver it to Madame Morgana when he was done.

"Abraxus will arrive shortly," he explained.

"Then that gives you time to explain why my son is in the hospital wing in the first place."

"Let us not pretend that you do not already know what happened, Lord Malfoy," Dippet replied evenly. "This is not the Wizengamot, and I do not care for your political games."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"It is my understanding that my heir was assaulted by a filthy little half-blood. Evans, is it?"

"Mr Evans was involved in the altercation, though it was Abraxus that provoked it."

"And you have proof of this?"

"Several witnesses can attest to it," Armando clarified.

"But it does not justify my son being savagely attacked. Heads will roll, Dippet, I can promise you that. No one attacks a Malfoy and gets away with it. For starters, the boy will be brought here to apologise for what he has done."

"I do not believe that is a good idea. Perhaps…"

Armando was cut off by the Malfoy Lord slamming his fist on top of his desk.

"He will be brought here to apologise!"

This would not end well.

Armando released a deep breath as he decided to humour the Lord and hoped that Harry was in a compliant mood.

He doubted it.

(Break)

"Is it true?" McLaggen asked, interrupting the conversation Harry was having with Charlus, Minerva, and Ogden. "About what you did to Malfoy."

"It's true," Tiberius confirmed.

"Good," McLaggen declared, slapping Harry harder than necessary on the shoulder. "The gits all deserve what is coming to them."

That was his parting comment before he left to join the rest of the seventh years in their own corner of the common room.

"As much as I can't stand him, he's not wrong," Charlus reluctantly agreed. "They had it coming."

Harry nodded before his attention was caught by a severe Dumbledore entering through the portrait hole and crossing the room towards him.

"Professor Dippet has asked that you join him, Mr Malfoy, and Lord Malfoy in his office."

"Malfoy is here?" Charlus questioned angrily.

"He is, Mr Potter, and he is not pleased by the events of the day."

"Can I send for my father?" Charlus asked. "Harry shouldn't have to deal with him alone."

"I'll be fine," Harry insisted as he stood, unfazed by the Malfoys.

They were insignificant in comparison to the other things burdening him.

"It will not be necessary," Dumbledore assured him. "Mr Evans will not be harmed."

Charlus did not appear to believe the man and turned his attention to Harry.

"If anything happens, get in touch with my parents," he whispered. "They'll know what to do."

Harry nodded gratefully before he followed his head of house from the tower and towards the headmaster's office.

Dumbledore did not appear to be concerned, and strangely, Harry took comfort in that despite his thoughts on the man.

"Lord Malfoy is in quite the rage," the transfiguration professor said merrily enough. "He would like for you to be expelled."

"I bet he would," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Not to worry, Harry. Professor Dippet will not allow that to happen," Dumbledore replied with a wink. "Ah, he we are."

They had reached the office, and Harry entered to find himself being hatefully glared at by who was unmistakably a Malfoy, the resemblance to Lucius making his blood boil.

"You owe my son and me an apology," Lord Malfoy demanded, tapping the cane he carried smartly on the stone floor.

Harry snorted.

"You and your son can piss off."

The older Malfoy's mouth fell agape before his cheeks purpled.

Evidently, he was not used to being spoken to in such a way.

"You dare ins…"

"Yes," Harry cut him off simply. "I dare. Your son started this, and as far as I'm concerned, it is finished, but if he wishes to continue, then that is fine with me. He can draw his wand whenever he feels like."

Lord Malfoy's lip curled in distaste.

"You are an uncouth lout who will get what is coming to him, that I can promise, but I will not be leaving here without an apology and an assurance that you will be escorted from the castle the moment you have."

"You are in no position to insist on anything of the sort, Lord Malfoy," Dippet interjected firmly. "You are neither a professor, nor governor of this school. Harry's future is not yours to decide."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at the headmaster.

"For now," he muttered. "I'm sure an opening on the board of governors can be found and obtained."

"With a man of your resources, I do not doubt it," Dippet replied, "but today is not that day. Harry, if you could apologise, then Lord Malfoy can be on his way."

The look that Dippet gave him was odd, almost amused, as was the one Dumbledore gave him.

"I'm not apologising to either of them," he replied stubbornly. "His son is a prat, and he's proving to be the same, just a slightly taller one."

Once more, Lord Malfoy was taken aback by his impertinence, but Dippet released a deep sigh before he could speak further.

"I was afraid this was the stance you would take. As such, I have contacted your guardians. They will arrive shortly."

"My guardians?" Harry asked confusedly.

"Then I will have an apology from them, and they will be grateful that is all I require today," Lord Malfoy broke in smugly. "I will be pleased to tell them how disrespectful and rude the whelp they have raised is."

Harry was still confused, though it cleared when Fawkes arrived in a burst of flames, escorting Nicholas and Perenelle into the office via his own unique method of travel.

"This had better be good, Albus," Nicholas grumbled. "I was golfing."

"It's a damned good reason!" Lord Malfoy snapped, stalking towards the Flamels. "So, you're the fossil in charge of this boy?"

Nicholas smiled as he nodded, nonplussed by the aggressiveness of the blonde.

"That's our Harry."

"Did you not teach him any manners, you old goat? Did you not teach him to recognise, and be respectful to his betters?"

Nicholas frowned, and Harry could see Perenelle's eyebrow raise.

"Well, I admit, Harry can be a little abrasive, but he's a good boy," Nicholas replied. "Is there an issue?"

"He attacked my son!" Malfoy seethed.

"Did he? Well, he must have had a good reason for doing so. Harry, why did you attack this boy?"

"Because he's a stuck-up git who thinks he's better than me because he was born with a silver spoon up his arse."

Nicholas's eyes were alight with amusement.

"Seems like a good enough reason to me," Nicholas agreed with a shrug. "I see no issue here."

"No, I don't suppose a decrepit old sod like yourself would," Malfoy said disdainfully. "Do you know who I am?"

Nicholas shook his head confusedly.

"Should I?"

"My name is Lord Magnus Malfoy, and this is my son and heir, Abraxus."

"Is that so?" Nicholas asked. "Sorry, the name doesn't mean anything to me, but when you have lived as long as I have, names mean very little."

"Well, mine shouldn't. Have you been living under a rock for the past hundred years, you doddering fool?"

"Not a rock no," Nicholas replied. "Hold on, let me think. Ah, you're a Malfoy."

"So, you understand the severity of the situation?" the Lord replied triumphantly.

Nicholas shook his head.

"Good grief you're boring," Nicholas grumbled. "I thought Ames was a whiny little cochon, but you are worse than him. Malfoy, was it? I've heard of your lot. A bunch of blonde pansies pretending to be bigger than you are. Let me tell you, in France, your name is a joke. Here, you only have influence because of your gold."

"How dare you…"

"Oh, shut up, boy," Nicholas cut Malfoy off. "Your family is nothing, your name means nothing to me, and if you ever threaten my blood again, I will ensure that everyone in England knows just how you came upon your fortune. Who was it again? Ah yes, Louis Malfoy married far above his station into a very wealthy family, who mysteriously died shortly afterwards. Do you remember that my dear wife?"

"I do," Perenelle confirmed. "Quite the scandal."

"That was never proven," Malfoy bit back.

"Perhaps, but what cannot be denied was that the family your ancestor married into was a muggle one, wasn't it?"

"That is not true."

"Oh, yes, it is," Nicholas countered. "I may be old, but my mind is as sharp as ever."

Malfoy snorted as he shook his head.

"That happened four centuries ago," Malfoy explained.

"When I was a ripe two centuries old," Nicholas returned. "You still do not know who I am? I thought names were important to you, yet you have not asked mine. How very rude."

Perenelle hummed her agreement.

"You're a crazy old fool," Malfoy returned, "and I will have my apology."

"You'll get a kick up the backside and thank me for it," Nicholas retorted, "and think yourself lucky I will let you walk away with your tail between your legs this once."

"He still doesn't understand, my sweet," Perenelle sighed.

"Then perhaps I should spell it out to him?"

Perenelle nodded.

"My name is Nicholas Flamel. I will not bother reeling off my accolades, the only one that is important in this moment is that I am the uncle of young Harry here, and you seem to have taken exception to him for no reason other than you are a bully. I do not like that."

Lord Malfoy had paled, his eyes wide as he looked upon the Flamels, the clues throughout the conversation falling into place.

"F-Flamel."

"No, not F-Flamel, just the one F you stuttering buffoon," Nicholas replied, evidently tired of the game he had been playing. "I believe you owe my nephew an apology, and he will have it, or I will have your family back to shovelling manure, just like Louis did."

Malfoy swallowed deeply.

Realising he had bitten off more than he could chew, he nodded.

"Come Abraxus," he commanded.

"Father?" the boy asked, confused by the turn of events.

"Mr Evans is to be left alone," Magnus Malfoy instructed.

"And his apology?" Nicholas insisted when the blonde Lord tried to pull his son from the room.

"You have it," Malfoy grumbled unhappily, leading a shocked Abraxus out of the office.

"Thank you, Nicholas," Dumbledore offered gratefully.

Flamel waved him off.

"Think nothing of it, I do not like bullies," he replied. "Are you okay, Harry?"

The teen nodded.

"You didn't have to…"

"Don't be silly," Perenelle broke in, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. "We will not have people like that try to intimidate you. You have our blood, and it is up to us to look after you, yes?"

Harry could only nod, already having learned that arguing with the woman was fruitless.

"Besides, it is good to occasionally remind people that we are still around," Nicholas added. "Malfoy will not forget that in a hurry."

"He won't," Harry sighed, "but everyone will now know about my connection to you."

"Which is of little consequence," Dippet interjected. "You have proven yourself to your peers using a name of no consequence to them. To your friends, your relationship with the Flamels will mean nothing."

"I agree," Dumbledore added. "I apologise for not telling you that I had sent for them, Harry."

"It's fine," Harry replied tiredly. "It had to come out eventually I suppose."

"It did," Nicholas concurred. "Things will never remain a secret forever."

"Except for one," Harry reminded him.

Nicholas shrugged.

"Perhaps, but you cannot be certain it will. Best not think on it too much, Harry. Live your life as you are. Both Perenelle and I are very proud of you. Albus is keeping us suitably updated, and do remember to write occasionally, yes?"

Harry nodded and smiled at the Flamels.

"I will," he promised.

"Good, now, I must get back home," Nicholas informed them. "I am putting your Christmas gift to excellent use. Ames has not had a peaceful day."

Perenelle huffed.

"Could you maybe not buy him a weapon next year?" she asked before placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I can't promise that," Harry replied. "Knowing him, he'll find a way to weaponize anything."

"It is true," Perenelle huffed. "Come along, Nicholas, Harry has lessons to return to."

Only a moment later, the Flamels were gone in another burst of flames courtesy of Fawkes and Harry turned his attention towards the headmaster.

"Can I leave now?"

Dippet nodded.

"Of course, and just so you know, I am proud of you also, Harry. Given the circumstances, you are doing exceptionally well."

Harry nodded gratefully before heading back towards Gryffindor Tower, amused by what had happened, but also concerned about how his housemates would react when Malfoy inevitably opened his mouth.