"Theo," Harry murmured, his voice still hoarse from sleep.
Theo groaned softly, nuzzling into the crook of Harry's neck. "Five more minutes, Potter," he grumbled, his voice rich and low.
Before Harry could respond, the distinct sound of Sirius's heavy boots echoed from the hallway. The footsteps paused outside their door, and they both stiffened.
"He's doing it again," Theo whispered, smirking slightly.
Harry sighed, suppressing a laugh. "He's pretending not to check on us."
A muffled cough from the hallway confirmed their suspicion. Sirius's steps resumed, pacing back and forth before retreating toward the kitchen.
"Guess we should get up," Harry said, reluctantly untangling himself from Theo.
Theo yawned and stretched, his silver-blue eyes meeting Harry's. "Fine. But only because Kreacher's breakfasts are worth it."
The two dressed quickly, Theo throwing on a sharp black sweater that clung to him in all the right places, while Harry opted for a simple green jumper that brought out his eyes. They made their way to the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed tea and sizzling bacon guiding them.
The rich scent of Earl Grey tea mixed with the lingering aroma of freshly baked scones. Remus Lupin sat on a worn armchair near the hearth, his weathered hands wrapped around a steaming teacup. When Harry and Theo entered, Remus greeted them with a warm, knowing smile, his scarred face softening.
"Good morning, Harry. And you must be Theodore Nott," Remus said, his voice steady and welcoming.
Theo nodded politely, his emerald-green tie slightly loosened, his posture rigid but respectful. "Good morning, Professor Lupin," he said, his tone formal.
Remus chuckled. "Just Remus, please."
A few minutes later, Sirius Black sauntered in, his dark hair slightly disheveled, wearing an old, tattered shirt that he claimed was his favorite. His gray eyes sparkled mischievously as he took in the scene, but his expression turned serious when he spotted Theo. Sirius, ever the impulsive Gryffindor, asked directly, "So, Nott, what brings you to my house? Not every day I have a Slytherin on my doorstep."
Harry shot Sirius a pointed glare and gently took Theo's hand under the table, squeezing it in silent reassurance. He could feel the tension in Theo's body, the way his shoulders stiffened at Sirius's blunt question.
"Leave him alone, Sirius," Harry said softly but firmly, his green eyes glinting with resolve.
Theo cleared his throat, glancing nervously at Harry before directing his gaze at the two older men. "First of all, thank you for letting me stay here, Mr. Black. I appreciate it," Theo began, his voice steady, though there was a faint tremor beneath the surface.
Sirius leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "Was it your father who...?" he trailed off, gesturing vaguely toward the fading bruises on Theo's wrist.
Theo hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. Harry gave his hand another comforting squeeze, grounding him. Theo took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, but that's not the full story."
The room seemed to grow colder, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone present. Remus set his cup down carefully, his expression grave yet attentive. Sirius leaned back, his arms crossed, his sharp features now clouded with concern.
"My father," Theo began, his voice barely above a whisper, "has always been a staunch supporter of Voldemort. He inherited that loyalty from his own father, who was one of Voldemort's first followers." Theo swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward Harry for a moment before continuing.
"One months ago, Voldemort came to our manor," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Not in his own body—he's too weak for that—but possessing one of his followers. I don't know who it was, but... he wasn't just there to give orders. He demanded loyalty—complete loyalty. My father was instructed to let Voldemort use our home as a base of operations. And then..." Theo faltered, his voice trailing off.
"And then what?" Sirius prompted, leaning forward again.
Theo's fists clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white as his voice trembled with suppressed anger. "It wasn't just about loyalty to him. Voldemort wanted my father to offer me as some kind of initiation. He wanted me to be the first Death Eater of his 'new era.'"
The room fell silent, the weight of Theo's words sinking in.
"My father," Theo continued, his voice low and bitter, "he didn't hesitate. He agreed immediately, like it was some sort of honor. He locked me in a room surrounded by protective runes so I couldn't escape. I was supposed to swear my allegiance, to brand myself with that Mark. But... but I wasn't going to let him decide my future for me. Not like that."
Harry's jaw tightened, his free hand clenching into a fist. "Theo..." he whispered, his voice filled with anger and sorrow.
Theo shook his head. "It's fine. I managed to escape last night. I used everything I'd learned about runes to disrupt the protections, to force my way out.My father was distracted—too busy tending to Voldemort. He forgot to renew the runes. I grabbed a few essentials and Disapparated here. I knew where you were, Harry, because of the letters." But the worst part..." His voice faltered, and for a moment, he seemed like he might lose control.
"The worst part is that I know my father would have handed me over willingly. To him, I wasn't his son—I was just a tool, a pawn in Voldemort's game."
Sirius let out a low whistle, his eyes narrowing. "Your father handed you over like... like some bargaining chip?"
Theo nodded stiffly, his face a mask of pain. "Yes."
For a moment, the room was silent except for the crackling of the fire. Then Remus spoke, his voice calm and steady. "You're safe here, Theo. Whatever Voldemort's plans are, we'll make sure he doesn't touch you."
Theo looked up, his blue-gray eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Thank you," he said quietly.
Sirius gave a sharp nod. "You're a guest of the House of Black now. No one messes with my guests," he said fiercely.
Harry smiled softly at Theo, his grip on his hand tightening. "You'll be okay. We've got you."
Theo's lips quirked into a faint, tentative smile. For the first time in months, he felt the faint flicker of hope.
Sirius Black sat slouched in his chair, his piercing gray eyes fixed on the doorway where Harry and Theodore Nott had disappeared moments ago. His fingers drummed on the table, betraying the tension he tried to conceal behind a neutral expression.
Across from him, Remus Lupin sipped his tea calmly, though his eyes, sharp and thoughtful, never left Sirius. The silence between them was thick, the unspoken tension almost palpable. Finally, Remus broke it.
"He seems sincere," Remus said softly, setting his cup down. His voice was steady, carrying that usual tone of measured calm, but there was a note of curiosity in it. "Theo, I mean. He cares about Harry."
Sirius's jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "I don't trust him," he said bluntly. "Not yet.his story can be true or just a way from his father to make his son a spy,and Harry is clearly in love so h, and this boy... he's a Slytherin. You and I both know what that house stands for."
Remus raised an eyebrow, his expression tinged with mild amusement. "Sirius, you're stereotyping an entire house. Again."
Sirius's eyes flashed with irritation. "It's not stereotyping if it's true! Most of them are—"
"Most of them are not their parents, you are not yours your parents neither your brother" Remus interrupted gently but firmly. "And neither is Theo. From what I've observed, he's different. He's not like the others."
Sirius let out a sharp laugh, the sound bitter. "He's not like the others? Is that why he's always hovering around Harry, trying to worm his way into his trust? Don't you see the risk, Moony? If he stays here, if Harry keeps bringing him closer, he's going to learn everything—our secrets, the Horcruxes."
At the mention of the Horcruxes, Remus's expression darkened. He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward slightly. "You're worried about Theo knowing too much. I understand that. But we can't lock Harry away from the world, Sirius. We've already asked too much of him. If Theo is someone he feels safe with—"
"Safe?" Sirius interrupted, his voice rising slightly. "How can you say that? Do you think any of us are safe here, Remus? Especially Harry? Voldemort is out there, and if this boy has even the slightest connection to—"
"He doesn't," Remus said firmly, his calm finally cracking into a harder edge. "Theo's father might have been a Death Eater, but Theo is not his father. And Harry is old enough to make his own judgments. Don't treat him like a child."
Sirius stared at him, his face a mix of frustration and reluctant acknowledgment. He ran a hand through his long, dark hair and sighed heavily. "I just... I don't want Harry to get hurt again," he muttered, his voice quieter now. "He's been through too much already."
Remus's expression softened, and he reached across the table, placing a reassuring hand on Sirius's arm. "Neither of us wants that. But we have to trust him, Sirius. He's grown without us , without any adult help,he's not James ,he is more mature ."
Sirius was silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to the door again. "You're right," he admitted grudgingly. "But I still don't like the idea of Theo staying here. Maybe... maybe we should move back to your place or Andromeda's. Harry can visit when he needs to, but this house has too many... things. Too many secrets."
Remus nodded slowly, understanding the weight behind Sirius's words. Grimmauld Place was a vault of dark magic and hidden truths, a place steeped in the legacy of the Black family. It wasn't a home; it was a prison of memories. "That might be for the best," he agreed. "For now, at least. But we'll talk to Harry about it first."
The sound of footsteps interrupted their conversation. Harry and Theo reappeared in the doorway, their voices low and easy, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the room moments ago. Harry's eyes brightened when he saw Sirius and Remus still sitting there.
"Everything okay?" Harry asked, his gaze flicking between them. He didn't miss the way Sirius's shoulders tensed or the way Remus glanced at him with quiet concern.
"Everything's fine," Sirius said quickly, standing up and forcing a smile. "Just... talking about a few things."
Harry didn't look convinced, but he didn't press.
Harry leaned against the large oak kitchen table, pulling a plate of leftover treacle tart closer. He grinned as Theo plucked a piece of bread from the counter, giving it a disdainful look before smothering it in butter.
"You can't survive on snacks, Harry," Theo chided, his voice laced with amusement.
"And yet," Harry replied, popping a bite of tart into his mouth, "here I am. Alive and well."
Theo rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the fond smile tugging at his lips. "If you keep eating like that, don't expect me to share my half of the bed when you're moaning about a stomach ache later."
Harry smirked, nudging Theo with his shoulder. "Don't pretend you wouldn't. You'd be too worried I'd die of tart poisoning or something ridiculous."
Theo sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "The things I do for you."
After gathering a modest collection of snacks—some apples, a block of cheese, and a small pile of biscuits—they made their way back to the sitting room. Sirius raised an eyebrow at their haul as they passed, but his attention quickly returned to Remus, who was gesturing passionately about werewolf rights legislation.
The boys settled in the adjacent library. The room was cool and dim, the only light coming from a low-hanging chandelier that swayed slightly whenever someone walked by. Dust motes danced in the air, and the smell of ancient books wrapped around them like a comforting blanket.
Harry flopped onto the long, leather chaise near the window, while Theo carefully arranged the snacks on a side table before sitting down next to him. The quiet wrapped around them.
For a moment, they didn't speak. Theo leaned his head back against the leather, his sharp features softened by the firelight filtering in through the slightly ajar door. Harry watched him, his gaze lingering on the curve of Theo's jaw and the way his hair caught the light.
"You're staring," Theo murmured without opening his eyes.
Harry flushed. "Maybe I just like the view."
Theo cracked an eye open, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're lucky I find your awkward flirting endearing."
"Who said I was flirting?" Harry shot back, his tone playful.
"You, clearly," Theo replied, reaching for an apple but keeping his gaze on Harry. "Do you always look like you've been caught doing something naughty when you flirt?"
Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing one of the books from the small pile Theo had brought earlier. "You're insufferable."
"And you're terrible at hiding how much you fancy me," Theo quipped, tossing an apple core into the nearby bin with perfect accuracy.
Harry huffed but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. He opened the book in his lap, determined to ignore Theo's teasing. But the silence between them wasn't heavy—it was warm, comfortable.
After a while, Theo shifted closer, leaning over Harry's shoulder to peer at the book. His breath tickled Harry's neck, making him shiver slightly.
"You're actually reading about advanced dueling techniques?" Theo asked, his voice low.
Harry nodded. "Thought it might be useful, you know, with everything going on."
Theo's expression softened. "You don't always have to be useful, Harry. Sometimes it's okay to just… be."
Harry turned to look at him, their faces mere inches apart. The words hung between them, weighty and sincere.
"I know," Harry said quietly, though his tone betrayed a hint of uncertainty.
Theo reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from Harry's forehead. "I mean it. You don't have to carry the world all the time. Not when I'm here."
Harry swallowed, feeling the warmth in Theo's gaze settle deep in his chest. "Thanks," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Theo smiled, leaning back against the couch. "Now, read me something interesting from that book. Make yourself useful."
Harry laughed, the tension easing as he opened to a page on shield charms. "You're impossible."
"And yet," Theo said, mirroring Harry's earlier words, "here I am. Alive and well."
The rest of the evening passed in quiet companionship. As the fire in the sitting room burned low, the two of them stayed in their little bubble, wrapped in warmth and the unspoken promise of more moments like this.
The days that followed were quieter than Harry expected, given the chaos that usually surrounded him. Théo had gradually started looking better, though his reserved demeanor suggested he was still processing the weight of what his father did to him,linger on his mind but harry tried to be helpful in every moment of that.
Another thing,To Harry's great surprise, Sirius and Remus had decided to stay with him in Grimmauld Place, much to Sirius' visible discomfort.
Despite Sirius' clear disdain for the house, he remained, casting hateful glances at the heavily curtained portrait of his mother every time he walked past it. "That woman managed to haunt me even after death," Sirius muttered one evening, glaring at the unmoving curtain as if daring it to reveal the shrieking portrait underneath.
Harry, sitting at the dining table with a collection of dusty tomes spread before him, glanced up. "You know, you could just—"
"—Burn it?" Sirius interrupted, his voice laden with bitterness. "Tried that. It's cursed. Like most things in this hellhole."
Remus, leaning casually against the doorway with a cup of tea in hand, raised an eyebrow. "Sirius, I thought we agreed not to insult the house while we're staying here."
Sirius huffed, throwing himself into a worn armchair. "I stayed for him," he gestured toward Harry, "not for this wretched pile of stone."
Harry looked between the two men, sensing the tension. "I appreciate it, really," he said softly, tapping his quill against the edge of his parchment. "But you don't have to stay if it's too much. I like it here. The house has... its charms."
"Charms?" Sirius scoffed. "This place is practically a mausoleum. What charms?"
Harry smirked. "The library, for one. It's full of books that I'd never find at Hogwarts—or anywhere else, for that matter."
Sirius shook his head, but Remus stepped forward with interest. "What have you been reading?" he asked, setting his tea on the table and pulling up a chair beside Harry.
Harry pushed one of the ancient books toward him. "This one talks about the idea of splitting a soul and housing it in different objects—or even people. It's mostly in Latin and Greek, so it's taking me a while to translate, but it feels important that can help us with the Horcruxes I have on me."
The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the soft scratching of Harry's quill and the occasional shuffle of Sirius' boots against the floor.
Later That Evening
After Sirius and Remus retired to their respective rooms, Harry remained in the library, the dim light of the chandelier casting long shadows across the rows of bookshelves. The air smelled faintly of parchment and dust, and the quiet hum of the house was almost soothing.
He traced his finger over the faded ink of the ancient text, carefully sounding out the Latin phrases under his breath. The concept was both fascinating and horrifying—a soul divided, tethered to objects, defying death itself.
A soft knock at the door startled him. He looked up to see Théo, standing hesitantly in the doorway. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked better than he had in days, though a shadow still lingered in his sharp features.
"Mind if I join you?" Théo asked, his voice low but steady.
Harry gestured to the chair across from him. "Of course. I could use some company."
Théo sat down, his gaze flickering over the open books. "You've been at this for hours. What's so important?"
Harry hesitated before answering, unsure of how much to share. "It's about Voldemort," he said finally, watching Théo's reaction.
Théo didn't flinch, a testament to his Slytherin composure. Instead, he leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Go on."
Harry explained what he'd been researching, his voice growing more animated as he laid out his findings. Théo listened intently, occasionally interjecting with a question or a thoughtful comment.
When Harry finished, Théo leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "You're not just a ravenclaw, are you?" he said after a moment.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're strategic," Théo replied. "This isn't just blind smart . You're calculating, methodical. It's... Lovely."
Harry felt his cheeks flush slightly at the compliment, but he played it off with a grin. "Don't let Sirius hear you say that."
Théo smirked, a rare glimmer of amusement lighting his eyes. "Maybe you're just full of surprises, Potter."
The two fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of their conversation lingering in the air.
---
The late August sun cast long, golden shadows across the Black family library, the air heavy with the scent of aged parchment and dust. Harry stood between Sirius and Remus, the tension in the room pressing down on him like a leaden weight. The dark wood-paneled walls seemed to close in, making the moment feel even more stifling.
Sirius ran a hand through his disheveled hair, pacing as he spoke. "Look, Harry, I don't trust Theo. I know you do, but… there's too much at stake here. Especially with the research you've been doing on soul magic. If Voldemort caught wind of it—hell, if anyone caught wind of it—" He stopped and fixed Harry with an intense gaze. "We can't risk it."
Harry frowned, leaning back against the large oak desk behind him. The smooth surface felt cold through his thin shirt. "Theo doesn't know the full extent of what I've been researching. And even if he did, he's not the kind of person to betray me. You've seen what his father did to him just for being with me. Theo wouldn't let anything slip, not willingly."
Remus spoke softly, his voice calm but firm, as always. "Harry, Sirius isn't suggesting Theo would betray you intentionally. But you know as well as we do that there are ways to extract information. Magic like Legilimency or Veritaserum… or worse." His amber eyes softened with sympathy. "We're only trying to protect you—and him."
Harry crossed his arms, his emerald eyes narrowing. "So what, then? You want me to force him to make a magical promise? To bind his will like that?"
Sirius stopped pacing and turned to face him. "Yes. For his safety as much as ours. If he can't physically talk about what he knows, no one can take it from him."
Harry hesitated, the weight of the decision settling heavily on his chest. "Theo won't agree to this unless I tell him everything. He's not stupid—he'll know if I'm hiding something. And if I do tell him…" Harry trailed off, his thoughts swirling.
Remus stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "Then you tell him. Be honest. But make him understand how dangerous this knowledge is—for everyone involved."
The three of them stood in silence for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Harry sighed and nodded. "Alright. I'll tell him tonight. But I want Andromeda there. If we're doing this, I want it done properly."
Sirius relaxed slightly, though the lines of worry didn't leave his face. "Good. And Harry… you're doing the right thing."
---
Later that evening, the atmosphere in the drawing room was heavy with anticipation. Andromeda stood near the fireplace, her wand in hand, exuding calm authority. Her presence was a stark contrast to Sirius's restless pacing and Remus's quiet contemplation.
Theo sat on the sofa, his posture relaxed but his sharp blue eyes alert. He had already sensed something was off the moment Harry had asked him to join this "family meeting."
Harry entered the room, his heart pounding. He glanced at Theo, who gave him a small, reassuring smile. But that smile faded when Theo noticed the serious expressions on everyone else's faces.
"What's going on?" Theo asked, his voice steady but wary.
Harry sat down beside him, taking Theo's hand in his own. The warmth of Theo's skin steadied him, gave him courage. "Theo, I need to tell you something. Something important. But first, you need to promise me you'll hear me out."
Theo raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between Harry and the others. "Alright… I'm listening."
Taking a deep breath, Harry launched into an explanation of his research over the summer—about soul magic, the fragments of Voldemort's soul, and the dangerous magic he was trying to unravel. He didn't sugarcoat anything, laying bare the risks and the stakes.
Theo listened intently, his expression growing more serious with every word. When Harry finished, there was a long silence.
"So," Theo finally said, his voice measured, "you're telling me you've been diving into the kind of magic that nearly destroyed the world, and now you want me to swear an unbreakable vow to keep it a secret?"
Harry winced. "Not an unbreakable vow. Just a magical promise. It won't kill you if you break it, but it'll prevent you from ever revealing what I've told you—unless I ask you to."
Theo leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. "And you think I'd betray you?"
"No!" Harry said quickly. "I trust you, Theo. I really do. But this isn't just about trust. It's about safety. For you, for me, for everyone."
Theo was silent for a moment, his fingers tightening around Harry's. Then he let out a soft laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You know, my father always said love was a weakness. That caring about someone gives them power over you." He looked at Harry, his expression softening. "But I don't think he understood that it also gives you strength. I'd do anything to protect you, Harry. You don't even have to ask."
Harry felt a lump rise in his throat. "Does that mean you'll do it?"
Theo nodded. "I'll do it. But only because I know you'd never ask me to do something like this unless it was absolutely necessary."
Andromeda stepped forward, her wand at the ready. "Are you both prepared?"
Theo glanced at Harry, then back at Andromeda. "Let's get this over with."
The ritual was simple yet powerful, the runes Andromeda inscribed glowing softly as Theo spoke the words of the promise. When it was done, Harry felt a strange mix of relief and guilt.
As the glow faded, Theo turned to him with a wry smile. "There. Happy now?"
Harry nodded, though his eyes were heavy with emotion. "Thank you, Theo. I'm sorry I had to ask you to do this."
Theo cupped Harry's cheek, his touch gentle. "Don't be. You're worth it."
Sirius cleared his throat loudly from across the room. "Alright, lovebirds, save it for later."
Theo smirked, while Harry rolled his eyes. But despite the tension and the weight of the evening, Harry felt lighter than he had in weeks. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn't carrying the burden alone.
The final days of August passed in a haze of relentless research and mounting tension. Harry and Theo had spent countless hours scouring books, delving into magical theories, and even consulting rare manuscripts from the pervelle vault . Yet, the search yielded nothing substantial. No record of anyone ever surviving the creation of a Horcrux within their own body, whether willingly or by accident.
The fragment of Voldemort's soul lodged in Harry remained an unspoken weight between them. It gnawed at Harry's mind during quiet moments, growing into an oppressive anxiety that even Theo's presence couldn't fully alleviate. To make matters worse, the ongoing hunt for Dumbledore by the Aurors added another layer of unease to an already unbearable situation.
In the dim light of Theo's study, the two sat across from one another, piles of parchment and old tomes scattered between them. Harry leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he sighed.
"This is pointless," he muttered. "Every text says the same thing—Horcruxes are made to tether someone to life, but they don't say anything about... this." He gestured vaguely toward his scar.
Theo, perched gracefully on the arm of a leather chair, his Slytherin tie loosened from earlier, watched Harry intently. His sharp, calculating gaze softened slightly. "It's not pointless. We're learning what hasn't been done. Sometimes, knowing what's missing tells you more than what's there."
Harry's lips curved into a wry smile. "You sound like Hermione."
Theo smirked, leaning forward. "You wound me, Potter. But, speaking of Hermione, maybe we should involve her. She's sharp—"
"No." Harry's voice was firm, startling Theo for a moment. "Not yet. If Dumbledore somehow knew about the fragment all along, if he's been keeping it quiet for his... whatever master plan he has, then telling more people feels like playing into his game."
Theo leaned back, his hands resting in his lap. "You think he knew? That he let you walk around like this—like some magical time bomb—because it suited his grand chessboard?"
Harry's jaw tightened. "Why else wouldn't he have done something about it when I was a kid? Before I knew what a Horcrux even was. He could've... I don't know... found a way to extract it. Destroy it. Anything."
The room fell silent, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves from the open window. Theo broke it with a dry laugh.
"You know, Potter, for someone who's supposedly Ravenclaw's prodigy, you've developed quite the Slytherin knack for scheming. Suspicion looks good on you, though," Theo teased, his tone light but his gaze sharp.
Harry rolled his eyes, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. "Well, if it weren't for you whispering your manipulative little theories in my ear all the time, I wouldn't have thought this far ahead."
"True." Theo's smirk returned, but it was fleeting, quickly replaced by a more serious expression. "Look, we don't have all the answers right now. But if there's one thing I know, it's that Dumbledore doesn't do anything without a reason. And whatever reason he had for keeping this from you, I'm willing to bet it wasn't for your benefit."
Harry nodded slowly, his fingers tightening around the edges of the parchment in front of him. The unease in his chest solidified into determination.
---
Before they knew it, the summer was over. September arrived too soon, and with it, the familiar hustle of preparing for another year at Hogwarts. Harry and Theo boarded the Hogwarts Express together, their trunks packed with books and supplies—and the weight of their unanswered questions.
As the train pulled away from King's Cross, the two found an empty compartment near the back. The rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks provided a comforting backdrop as Theo settled into his seat, stretching out with an air of practiced ease.
Harry, however, remained restless, glancing out the window at the passing countryside.
"Fifth year," Theo said, breaking the silence. "The year of OWLs and unbearable professors. Though I'd wager you're more concerned about dodging Dumbledore's attempts to ruin your life."
Harry turned to him, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "And you're concerned about OWLs? Aren't you the one who practically sleeps through half the lessons?"
Theo raised an eyebrow. "Sleeping doesn't mean I'm not learning, Potter. Some of us can multitask."
The banter between them eased some of Harry's tension, but the lingering unease about Dumbledore remained. As they neared Hogwarts, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that the headmaster's gaze would be on him the moment they entered the Great Hall.
---
The Sorting Hat's song echoed through the hall as the first years were sorted, and dinner began. The tables buzzed with excitement and chatter, the usual energy of a new school year heightened by an undercurrent of anticipation.
The Great Hall buzzed with nervous energy as students filed in for the start-of-term feast. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dark, cloudless sky outside, speckled with stars. Long tables stretched out beneath the floating candles, and students chattered excitedly about their summers, the arrival of the foreign schools, and, of course, the non surprising absence of Albus Dumbledore.
Harry sat at the Ravenclaw table next to Hermione, his gaze flickering toward the staff table. There, in the center seat that Dumbledore had occupied for as long as Harry could remember, sat Professor McGonagall. Her stern face softened momentarily as she surveyed the students, though her lips pressed tightly together as if suppressing nerves.
"She looks nervous," Harry muttered under his breath.
Hermione nodded, her brown curls bouncing slightly. "Wouldn't you be? Taking over for Dumbledore, with the Ministry breathing down her neck? I'd be terrified."
"Good riddance," Harry replied, his voice bitter. "At least we won't have him meddling this year. No secret tasks. No end-of-year disasters orchestrated by him. I can finally focus."
Hermione's lips curled into a small smile. "Let's hope McGonagall doesn't let us down." Her tone was serious, though there was a hint of optimism in her voice.
The hall fell silent as McGonagall rose from her seat. She raised her hands to quiet the murmurs, and her sharp gaze swept across the room.
"Good evening, students," she began, her Scottish brogue clear and steady. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. As you may have noticed, there have been... changes." Her eyes lingered briefly on the empty seat where Dumbledore usually sat, then returned to the students. "Due to circumstances requiring his attention, Professor Dumbledore has temporarily stepped down as headmaster. Until further notice, I will be acting headmistress."
A ripple of whispers spread through the hall. Harry noticed a few Slytherins smirking, while several Hufflepuffs exchanged uneasy glances. At the Gryffindor table, Ron Weasley looked utterly baffled, while Ginny leaned over to whisper something to him.
McGonagall held up her hand, silencing the chatter. "I am confident that we will uphold the proud traditions of this school during this transitional period. Now, before we begin our feast, I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Dolores Umbridge."
The hall clapped politely, but the applause faltered as Dolores Umbridge stood. Her pink cardigan and matching skirt clashed with the somber tones of the staff table, and her toad-like face twisted into what she must have thought was a sweet smile. A pink bow perched on her graying curls completed the look, giving her an unsettling appearance, like a caricature of a kindly aunt.
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Umbridge simpered, her voice high-pitched and sugary. She clasped her hands in front of her and surveyed the students with a wide, insincere smile. "I am delighted to be here at Hogwarts. Truly, it is an honor to stand before the future of our magical society."
Harry's stomach churned. There was something about her—something behind that saccharine smile—that felt wrong. He shot a glance at Hermione, who was frowning deeply, her arms crossed.
"She's dangerous," Hermione whispered.
Harry nodded. "You feel it too?"
"Of course I do," she replied sharply. "That woman's smile doesn't reach her eyes. She's hiding something."
Umbridge continued her speech, prattling on about "progress," "unity," and "discipline." Harry's unease grew with every word.
"Discipline?" he muttered. "What does she mean by that?"
"Nothing good," Hermione replied grimly.
By the time Umbridge finished, the atmosphere in the Great Hall was thick with tension. McGonagall resumed her seat, her lips pursed tightly as if she'd swallowed something bitter. The feast began, but Harry found he had no appetite. The sight of Umbridge picking delicately at her food made his stomach turn.
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