Chapter Text
The Prank War wasn’t unfolding quite like anyone had expected. Their first meeting was fraught with tension, but after that, the actual pranking seemed to devolve into general merriment.
Harry spent most of his time dictating costume changes to his various agents, warriors, and captains – all of whom were delighted to comply – while Bill and Charlie occupied themselves with swiping wine from the cellar. Occasionally, they would help the younger children with a bit of tricky magic.
Charlie waved his wand in a complicated pattern, transfiguring a ratty old cloak into a blood-red cape and draping it over Neville’s shoulders per Harry’s direction.
“Don’t tell anyone we were doing magic,” he cautioned, knowing perfectly well it wasn’t allowed over the holidays.
“Or that we have this,” Bill grinned, shaking a half-empty bottle of Cabernet.
“Is it good? Can I have some?” Ron asked curiously.
“Not until you’re at least fifteen,” Charlie said sternly.
James, Sirius, and the twins seemed to be primarily interested in product testing. Their pranks were methodical and scientific, and each of them carried around a bit of parchments for notes.
“The canary potions were a huge success,” George said excitedly, watching the table of neon-yellow haired children giggle and point at one another over their lunch.
“Did you spike their pumpkin juice with it?” James asked.
“Yeah. Not terribly sneaky, I know…oh wait, they’re still drinking it. I think they like having yellow hair.”
“Harry’s didn’t change,” Fred frowned.
“He must have inherited the Potter hair magic,” James said sheepishly. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“This is a neat bit of potion work,” Sirius said. “You developed this yourselves?”
The twins puffed out their chests.
“Sure did,” Fred said proudly. “Tested it on ourselves and everything.”
The Marauders were quite impressed. “You two could put Zonko’s out of business, you know,” Sirius said.
“He’s right,” James agreed. “Have you thought about taking a few business classes to go with all this inventing you’re doing?”
“I don’t think Hogwarts offers those,” George said.
“You’d have to take a mail-in muggle course, but trust me, it’s definitely worth it. Lily made me do it when I took up the Potter lordship and it’s changed the way I handle money, let me tell you.”
“Okay,” Fred said slowly, not quite convinced.
“I’ll make you a deal,” James grinned. “If you can wrap up an entry-level business course by the end of your seventh year, I’ll become an investor in whatever business you start.”
“Me too,” Sirius said quickly. “I want to get in on this. We'll pay your course fees too, obviously.”
“What if we finish it early?” Fred asked. “We’re only in our third year.”
“Then we’ll be investing early, won’t we?”
The twins grinned at one another happily. “You’ve got a deal,” they said in unison.
“James,” a grumpy voice said.
James looked around, then down. “Oh, hello Harry,” he said. “I didn’t know you could see us. Didn’t you put up a Notice-Me-Not, Pads?”
“Yeah,” Sirius said.
“Never mind that,” Harry whined. “Your stupid prank is broken. Everyone has yellow hair but me! Even Jack! It’s not fair.”
“It's a work in progress,” George said quickly. "Don't take it personally."
“Yeah,” Fred said. “You must be, um, too powerful for it to work.”
“That sounds about right,” Harry mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, well, once again I’m triumphant without even trying. You four must be so embarrassed –”
“Harry,” James interrupted. “Why is your prosthetic backwards?”
They all looked down.
Sure enough, Harry’s whalebone leg had been turned completely around.
“It was for a thing,” Harry said dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll fix it later.”
“Don’t –” James sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll have to go get it adjusted again, you know that, right? Come on, get your cloak.”
“I’ll take him,” Sirius said. “Remus needed to pop by St Mungo’s this week anyway. Something about the latest Wolfsbane shipment for Project Moony.”
“Are you sure?” James asked.
“Definitely,” Sirius grinned, ruffling Harry’s braid. “It’ll be fun! Right, Harry?”
“Right,” Harry agreed. He was always down for an adventure.
And maybe he could sneak away and check on his leg in the morgue…
****
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sirius muttered. “This cannot be happening.”
“It’s happening,” Remus said firmly, ushering Harry up the steps of Grimmauld Place. “They’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
“Who will be here?” Harry asked.
“No one,” Sirius grumbled.
“Some of Sirius’ family,” Remus said, throwing Sirius a chiding look. “We got an owl while you were in with the healers. They’re just dropping by to chat. It shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
“Sounds good to me,” Harry grinned. “Can I –”
“No,” Sirius said firmly. “You will be upstairs in the library, young man. I don’t want you meeting these – these people.”
“And the library is safer?” Remus muttered skeptically.
“It’s got wards and stuff around the sketchy parts,” Sirius said. “No way a firstie could get through them. It’ll be fine.”
“Well, at least I’ll have something to do,” Harry said, very suspiciously in Remus’ opinion.
“I don’t know about this,” he began.
“Merlin, they’re going to be here any moment,” Sirius interrupted, looking at his pocket watch. “I’ll take Harry upstairs. You just sit there and look pretty, hm? I’ll bring some wine back down with me.”
Remus smiled as he watched his husband scurry out of the room, shooing Harry along in front of him. A few seconds later, the fireplace flared green and a small, bratty-looking blonde boy stumbled through.
“Who’re you?” he said nastily, eyeing the scars that littered Remus’ face.
The floo flared again, and Narcissa Malfoy – no, Black – stepped through.
“Mr. Black-Lupin,” she said politely, offering her hand. “Thank you for welcoming us into your home.”
Remus blinked. She was using his married name? It was a gesture of respect towards his relationship that was as unexpected as it was welcome.
He took the offered hand and bent over it, kissing it politely. “Please, call me Remus. We’re happy to have you, Lady Black,” he said. He watched her face carefully, wondering if she would shy away at the touch of a known werewolf, but her polite mask didn’t slip.
“Then you must call me Narcissa,” she said.
“Narcissa, then,” he repeated with a smile. “And this must be young Draco.”
“I’m not that young,” muttered the eleven-year-old.
“Manners, Draco,” Narcissa sighed.
“You said there was another person joining you?” Remus asked. “When –”
The fire turned green once again, and a breathtakingly gorgeous man stepped neatly out of the hearth.
He was tall. Tall and broad, especially around the shoulders. His skin was pale, smooth as marble and perfectly flawless; his gray eyes smoldered with intensity, framed by noble cheekbones so sharp they could cut stone. Sensuous black curls fell heavily around his neck and angled jaw, and his plush lips were curled in a nervous smile.
“Lord Black, I presume?” said the stunning creature. His voice was as silken as honey and as deep as the sea.
“Erm,” Remus squeaked, feeling painfully homosexual. “No, I’m – uh –”
“Sorry, sorry,” Sirius said, rushing into the room with a few wine glasses hovering behind him. “I’ve brought – hgnh!” His jaw locked as he stared at the newcomer. His legs apparently stopped working as well, as he barrelled straight into Remus’ back, almost knocking him over.
“Apologies,” the strange man said. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. I was told that you knew I was coming.”
“We did! We do, er, I mean…welcome to, uh, here,” Sirius choked. He turned desperately towards Remus. “Wine?”
“Please,” Remus muttered, grabbing a floating glass and quaffing the entire thing.
Narcissa’s eyes burned with amusement. “Gentlemen,” she said. “May I introduce you to our long lost cousin, Icarus Marvolo Black?”
“Cousin,” Sirius muttered regretfully. “Right, of course, um…please sit down. I’m Sirius, this is Remus. Have some wine, won’t you?”
“Is Kreacher around?” Narcissa asked as she sat. “I was hoping he could occupy Draco in the kitchens while we speak.”
“I’m not a baby, mother,” Draco whined. “I can occupy myself.”
“Kreacher died ages ago,” Sirius said. “And thank Merlin for that. We’ve gone back to the old ways – none of the elves have human names, can’t call on them, you know. Live and let live.”
“A humane arrangement, to be sure,” Narcissa said politely.
“One of our nephews is in the library,” Remus said. “Draco, would you like to join him?”
“Whatever,” Draco mumbled. “Fine.”
“I can show you where it is –”
“No! I can go by myself!” Draco hollered. “I said I’m not a baby!”
Narcissa rubbed her face wearily. “Draco, darling –”
“It’s alright,” Remus said quickly. “Up the stairs, then. It’ll be the fourth door on the left. You can’t miss it.”
Draco stomped angrily out of the luxurious sitting room, ignoring his mother’s half-hearted admonishing. Soon he was out of sight.
“He’ll be alright on his own,” Sirius assured her. “I know you probably remember…well, anyway, we renovated this place ages ago. All the really dangerous stuff is either in storage or locked up tight in Gringotts.”
Narcissa nodded, glancing around the bright, polished room. “You’ve made quite a few changes as Lord Black, it seems. I almost don’t recognize the place. It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks,” Sirius said, looking surprised.
Narcissa smoothed her skirts down with faintly trembling hands. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked to meet,” she said finally.
“It has been a long time, Cissy,” Sirius drawled. “If I remember correctly, last time we spoke you had some strong words to say about my choice in partners.”
“Yes,” Narcissa said. “I would like to apologize for that. I was…young. Spouting the beliefs of our family. I’ve since…well, I’ve seen the error of my ways.”
“You have?!” Sirius choked.
“Is that so hard to believe?” she said quietly. “The world is changing, cousin. I’d like to think I can change with it.”
Sirius made a high, skeptical noise.
“And speaking of change,” Narcissa continued. “Lucius and I are getting a divorce.”
Sirius looked faint. “Fucking what?”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Narcissa,” Remus said, elbowing Sirius sharply. “If there’s anything we can do –”
“Hang on,” Sirius interrupted. “You – you’re getting a divorce?!” He pointed a shaking finger at his cousin. “You, Narcissa Malfoy, poster child for all things pureblood and self-righteous, always ready with something shitty and mean to say –”
“Of course I'm getting a divorce! I was married off when I was seventeen years old!” Narcissa hissed. She swallowed a few times, jaw tight, visibly calming herself before continuing in a hushed voice. “I was only seventeen, Sirius. I placed my trust in our family, in tradition…I did what I was told to do and I believed it would bring me happiness. But in the end, I was sold like a cow to the highest bidder, treated like a glorified brood mare to a bloodline I couldn’t care less about…and I find myself weary of my situation. So yes, I’m getting a divorce.”
Sirius was speechless.
“Well, good for you,” Remus said suddenly, looking a bit misty-eyed. “I think your pursuit of personal freedom is rather admirable, Narcissa. If there’s anything we can do…”
“Well,” she said uncomfortably. “There is, actually, one thing. I have reverted back to my maiden name in practice, but I am not as of yet officially a member of House Black again. There is a law, you see – divorced witches cannot retake their family name or any previous inheritances unless allowed to do so by the head of the family.”
“Oh,” Sirius said. “Right. That law.”
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” she said, drawing herself up and squaring her shoulders. “I understand that we haven’t always seen eye to eye, Sirius, but –”
“Merlin, stop,” Sirius begged. “Of course you can rejoin the family. You shouldn’t even have to ask. It’s your family too, no matter what sexist laws are in place.”
“I didn’t even know about that one,” Remus said. “That’s completely barbaric.”
“Hear, hear,” Icarus agreed, smiling warmly.
“Well…thank you, Sirius,” Narcissa said, her hands still trembling as she clasped them in her lap. “I am forever in your debt.”
“Don’t mention it,” Sirius said.
“Since you’re in a welcoming mood…” Icarus said sheepishly.
“You too?!” Sirius laughed. “What, did you get blasted off the tapestry when you were a kid?”
“I was never on it, actually,” Icarus said. “I’m a bastard Black.”
“Same here,” Sirius joked, while Remus rolled his eyes. “Well, that explains why I’ve never heard of you.”
“He has proof to his claim, you know.” Narcissa began. “Icarus’ mother was Elizabeth Black. His father is currently unknown, but we have his birth certificate –”
“Don’t bother,” Sirius interrupted. “I don’t care. If you say he’s a Black, I believe you. He certainly has the looks for it. We’ll get it all sorted out with our lawyers after the holidays, eh?”
“Really?” Icarus said slowly. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Sirius grinned. “Welcome to the family! I think this calls for something a little stronger than wine, eh? Let’s have a toast!”
****
It took Harry all of thirty seconds to barrel through the wards in the library and find the Necromancy section.
“Fascinating,” he muttered, trailing a small finger along the spine of a particularly ancient-looking tome. After a moment, he pulled it off the shelf and settled down to read.
Necromancy was neat. Harry’s eyes got wider and wider as he turned each page. Inferi? Flesh golems? Soul magic? Why weren’t they learning any of this at Hogwarts?! He read as quickly as he could, desperate to get through as much of the book as possible before he was discovered.
After twenty minutes or so, he heard the faint sound of sniffling in the library.
He paused.
Should he investigate? Or should he keep reading?
The sniffling continued.
Harry sighed. He could never resist a good mystery.
He closed the book with a snap and carried it with him. Hopefully he’d find a way to sneak it back to Potter Manor.
Harry quickly found the source of the noise. Draco Malfoy sat pitifully next to a large bay window, crying quietly into a throw pillow.
“Aww,” Harry cooed, drawing closer. “You’re so sad! I love that for you.”
Draco froze.
“It’s you,” he whispered, face pale. “They said their nephew was – was – I thought it would be Jack or Neville –”
“Yes, it’s me,” Harry agreed. He settled into the chair next to Draco, choosing to ignore the way the other boy immediately cringed away. “Why are you crying? Are you lonely? I adore lonely people, you know.”
“I’m not crying,” Draco sniffled.
“Maybe it’s because you’re weak,” Harry mused. “Yes, that’s probably it. Those look like tears of weakness.”
Draco was speechless, torn between fear and indignation.
“Don’t worry, Draco Malfoy,” Harry continued. “Whether you’re lonely, or scared, or weak…there’s always something you can offer to General Darkness Incarnate.”
“Who?” Draco said.
“Me,” Harry smirked. His voice echoed strangely in the heavy silence, atonal and uncharacteristically deep. For a moment, the shadows in the library seemed to stretch further than they should, darkening the room and casting Harry’s glowing red eyes into sharp relief.
“Right,” Draco said weakly. “Um, sorry. I don’t, uh. Well. I didn’t realize you’d changed your name.”
“I have many names,” Harry said dismissively. "So, what do you say?"
Draco felt a shiver of fear travel up his spine.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered. “What do you want?”
Harry smiled. His expression was pleasant, but there was a greedy glint in his eye; the devil offering a deal to a hapless traveler.
“I want you to be my friend,” he said quietly, extending his hand. “I take good care of my friends. How about it?”
Draco stared at the hand, incredulous.
Then, slowly, he reached out and took it.