Here's chapter 30: About Potters and Blacks.

Here we go, won on Patron, so we get a second update within a month.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

Hopefully the chapter turns out alright.

As usual JKR owns Harry Potter etc etc.

・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚

The corridors of Hogwarts are always so alive during the day, whether through chatty students, the ghosts, or the portraits, something is always going on. This late afternoon however, the stretch near the library is oddly empty, no nerdy Ravenclaws in sight even. Neville and I walk side by side, discussing Flamel's latest outrageous class,

I have no ill will against Professor McGonagall, and I'll always regret her death.

But…

As outrageous as he is, Nicholas Flamel is the superior teacher.

He's even managed to make Seamus Finnegan stop setting everything on fire!

The light mood evaporates when I spot Harry and Hermione at the far end of the corridor and they don't look happy. Harry's shoulders are squared, his stride purposeful. Hermione's steps are more hesitant, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression conflicted.

They're not here for a friendly chat. That much is obvious, and I sigh quietly to myself.

Harry's ambivalence to me has been noticeable. I suppose it was inevitable he'd confront me about it.

Neville notices them too, his laughter fading as his brow furrows at their expressions. "What do you reckon they want?" He mutters under his breath.

"Let's find out," I reply calmly, keeping my pace steady. I'm not worried.

Harry is good people.

A problem with me or not, there's no danger here.

They intercept us halfway down the corridor, Harry stepping into our path while Hermione hangs back slightly, looking as though she'd rather be anywhere else.

"What's your deal, Lucas?" Harry blurts out, his green eyes filled with frustration.

I raise an eyebrow, refusing to let his bluntness rattle me. "Good afternoon to you too, Harry. Care to clarify?" I drawl.

"You know what I mean." His voice is low but edged with frustration. "What's your deal? Are you just… Using people? Do you have some kind of plan for all of us?"

He gestures with one hand in an uncomfortable manner, like he doesn't know what to do with it, "I've been thinking about all of it, and you just seem to be… Playing everyone for a fool."

Neville stiffens beside me, his jaw tightening. "Oi, watch it," He says sharply. "Lucas hasn't done anything to you, Harry."

I place a hand on Neville's arm, a silent request for him to stand down - for now. "Let him talk," I say quietly, my gaze still fixed on Harry.

This has been simmering since last year, only how the year ended had stopped this from already coming to a head.

Hermione shifts uncomfortably, her eyes darting between us as she speaks up, almost meekly. "Harry, maybe this isn't the best way to -"

"No," Harry interrupts, his tone firm. "I want answers. He's always... Always one step ahead. Always knowing exactly what to say, what to do, how to make people follow along. It's not normal."

"Well, thanks," I reply dryly. "I'll take that as a compliment."

I rather like not being normal, thank you very much.

Harry doesn't appreciate the humor. "Don't dodge the question," He snaps. "Do you have a plan for us? For me, for Hermione, for Neville?" He points at my fellow Hufflepuff angrily as he says his name.

Neville bristles at the accusatory tone. "What's your problem, Harry? Lucas hasn't done anything but help you! All of us!"

"I didn't ask for his help!" Harry shoots back, his voice rising.

I step between them, my tone calm but firm. "Enough."

This didn't need to devolve into a fight.

Neville glares at Harry, but he falls silent, his fists clenched at his sides. I turn my attention back to Harry, meeting his gaze evenly.

"You want to know if I have a plan?" I say, my voice steady. "Of course I do."

My plans might not always go as I wish, but I try to not fly by the seat of my pants. Which now that I'm thinking about it, is probably what Harry finds so alien about it.

Hermione winces slightly at my candor, while Harry's expression hardens.

Sorry, Hermione, but lying isn't going to help, I think, meeting Harry's eyes.

"I have the ability to optimize everything around me," I continue, keeping my tone matter-of-fact. "I see opportunities, paths forward, ways to improve -not just for myself, but for the people around me. And yes, Harry, that includes you. If I have the tools to make things better, why wouldn't I use them?"

Harry's eyes narrow. "Better for who? For you?"

"For all of us," I reply, my voice unshaken.

Hermione speaks up, her tone hesitant. "But... Lucas, isn't that... Isn't that still using us in a way, manipulating us? Even if your intentions are good?"

I turn to her, my expression cool. "Hermione, everyone influences everyone else every single day, call it manipulation or influence or whatever you wish. Every action, every word - it all shapes the people around you. The only difference with me is that I use Divination to ensure I get good outcomes. For everyone."

Most of the time…

"That's manipulative," Harry says, his voice cutting. "You're manipulating people."

Neville snaps, his voice sharp and angry. "You're being ridiculous, Harry! I don't feel manipulated at all! I've learned more magic, made more friends, gotten better at everything! And now you're upset just because Lucas planned it out instead of winging it like you do? That's -"

"Neville," I interject softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He falls silent, though his frustration is still palpable.

I turn back to Harry, my expression unreadable. "I didn't make you do the stupid things you did last year," I say evenly. "Throwing yourself in front of a killing curse? That was all you. All I did was help you and your friends improve, to be capable of maybe surviving bad things going down. The rest? That was your choice."

Harry looks taken aback for a moment before he frowns. "You couldn't have just told us that from the beginning?"

I exhale slowly, a flicker of weariness in my gaze. "Naive," I murmur. I forget sometimes how young everyone around me is.

Hermione sighs, her voice soft. "He's right, Harry. You wouldn't have listened. None of us would have. Not if he told us upfront he was... Influencing things." She said delicately.

"That doesn't make it right," Harry says stubbornly, his jaw set.

Oh for the love of… I think, exasperated. Is this the famous Potter stubbornness at play?

Also, I can't help but wonder why now? What set him off? I haven't done anything egregious this year yet. He hadn't been this upset in class that I had seen.

Neville's frustration boils over again. "What? So now you're mad because Lucas didn't let you screw up and fumble around blind more? Grow up, Harry. He's done more for all of us than anyone else has including the professors. You're just upset because you feel like you're not in control."

My man Neville, spitting truths, I think, somewhat touched he's standing up so firmly for me against the boy-who-lived.

"Intent matters," Harry says, his voice mulish. "It makes a difference."

"Does it?" Neville shoots back, his tone heated. "Because I don't see the problem. Everything's better because of him. You're just nitpicking to find something to be upset about!"

Hermione steps between them, holding up her hands. "Alright, enough! This isn't helping." She looks at Harry, her expression pleading. "Can't we just... All agree? Talk this out and move forward? Everything can go back to normal now, right?"

I raise an eyebrow, my gaze flicking to Harry. "Well," I say evenly, "That's up to you."

I'm not going to force anything on him, I had already achieved my goal - making him take magic and studying/training seriously.

Harry looks conflicted, his gaze darting to Hermione before settling on me. There's a long, tense silence as he grapples with his thoughts.

"I don't know," He says finally, his voice quiet. Without another word, he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Hermione hesitates, looking between me and Neville, frustration evident in her expression. "You two couldn't have made this easier?" She mutters before following after Harry.

As the corridor falls silent once more, I let out a slow sigh. "Well, that went well."

Neville mutters a curse under his breath, his voice low and full of feeling. "Gryffindors."

I can't help but chuckle softly, though there's no humor in it. "There's something to be said for pigheadedness I suppose."

We stand there for a moment, the tension lingering like an unwelcome guest. Finally, I clap Neville on the shoulder.

"Come on," I say, my voice steady. "Let's get going. We've got better things to do."

He nods, his expression still sour, but his steps fall in line with mine as we head down the corridor. Whatever fallout this conversation might bring, I can handle it. After all, I've planned for worse before.

Harry might not see things my way - and I'd love to find out who's influencing him other than me - but in the end he is still his heroic self.

So nothing too bad can happen.

・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚

September 18th, Hogwarts.

The summons arrives just as I'm settling into the evening. My Divination notes are spread out before me in my dorm room, and the steady sound of Neville's snoring has lulled me into a focused rhythm. Then, with a flash, Fawkes appears with a letter tied to his foreleg, breaking through my concentration.

I untie the letter from Fawkes leg, frowning as I take the small parchment out from its envelope. The handwriting is elegant and as unmistakable as the signature at the bottom.

Lucas,

Please report to my office at your earliest convenience. The password is "Snickerdoodles."

Albus Dumbledore

I sigh, the kind of long, heavy sigh that comes from knowing your evening plans are about to be utterly derailed. Dumbledore wouldn't call me to his office without cause. The note is brief, offering no clues, but the sheer vagueness of it puts me on edge.

There's been nothing but silence from Dumbledore since the year began, despite Voldemort appearing in his new civilian guise.

There were always going to be issues with this 'alliance', someone like Dumbledore would never fully confide in a twelve year old. But perhaps this summon would prove otherwise…

Packing up my notes and heading down to the common room - showing a prefect the letter to avoid any hassles - I head through the quiet corridors. The castle seems almost deserted with most students tucked away in their common rooms by now.

When I reach the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office, I hesitate for a brief moment before saying, "Snickerdoodles."

The gargoyle shifts aside, revealing the spiral staircase. As it begins to ascend, carrying me upward, my mind churns. Dumbledore's timing is curious, it's been quite some time now since Marvolo Gaunt stepped out in the public eye.

If he's brought me here to watch pointless pensieve memories I'm going to hex him.

Pushing open the heavy oak door at the top of the stairs, I step into Dumbledore's office. The room is as I remember it - warm and cluttered with a cacophony of magical oddities. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, watches me intently from his perch, his golden-red feathers glinting in the flickering light of the many candles.

Dumbledore sits behind his desk, his half-moon spectacles glinting as he looks up from a parchment. Beside him stands Professor Snape, his black robes hanging like shadows around him, his expression as inscrutable as ever.

"Ah, Lucas," Dumbledore greets me warmly, gesturing toward a chair across from him. "Please, come in. Sit, sit."

I do as he says, my eyes flickering between the two men. Dumbledore's demeanor is as calm and composed as ever, but there's a weight in the air that even his usual grandfatherly charm can't dispel. Professor Snape, on the other hand, exudes his usual aura of disdain, his sharp gaze fixed on me as though I'm an insect he's debating whether to squash.

Honestly, I don't appreciate being another Harry Potter in his eyes. And I don't even have a parent that bullied the shit out of him as an excuse for why he hates me.

"Professor," I say cautiously, my voice steady. "What's going on?"

Dumbledore leans back in his chair, his hands steepled before him. "We'll get to that in a moment, my boy. But first, how have you found your first few weeks of the term? Settling back into the rhythm of Hogwarts life, I trust?"

His tone is conversational, almost disarmingly so, but I'm not in the mood for pleasantries. My gaze shifts to Professor Snape, whose eyes narrow ever so slightly at my attention.

"With respect, Headmaster," I say, keeping my voice polite but firm, "I doubt you called me here to chat about school. What's this really about?"

Dumbledore chuckles softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Ah, always so direct. Very well, Lucas. Let us not waste time then, although it would be remiss of me not to mention that small talk can be a delight, and shouldn't so easily be dismissed."

From Professor Snape's scoff, this is a subject that's been brought up before.

The headmaster leans forward slightly, his expression turning serious. "You are aware, of course, that dark forces are stirring once more. While Voldemort himself remains stifled, his followers - are not so dormant."

My stomach tightens at the mention of Voldemort, but I nod, keeping my expression neutral. "I'm obviously aware about him, as for his people, I can make educated guesses on what's going on…"

Voldemort couldn't personally cause the same chaos anymore, but if he could find a way to use his people without impacting his own curse…

Dumbledore's gaze sharpens. "Good. Then you understand the gravity of the situation. We need to know who among his former followers are going active, who might be moving in the shadows."

"And you think I can help with that?" I ask, arching an eyebrow, my eyes flicking to Professor Snape, the spy, who likely knew a lot more about those people then I could ever find out.

"Precisely," Dumbledore says, his tone grave. "Your skills in Divination are remarkable, Lucas. With the proper guidance and resources, I believe you could provide us with insights that no other method could uncover."

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. "And where does Professor Snape fit into this?"

Professor Snape steps forward slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. "I am here," He says, his voice low and deliberate, "Because the Dark Mark itself may hold the key to enhancing your divinations."

I blink, caught off guard. "The Dark Mark? You mean the one branded on the arms of Death Eaters? The mark made from Dark Magic?"

I mean, groovy, but that's a big jump from - you're too young to know Harry - to, sure, play with Voldemort's mark made of evil, Lucas, don't worry about it…

I feel loved.

"Precisely," Professor Snape says, his tone clipped, his expression that of a man being forced to do this. "The Mark is not merely a symbol of his followers. It is a connection - one that ties its bearers to the Dark Lord and, to a lesser extent, to each other. It is steeped in dark magic, yes, but it also serves as a conduit of sorts. If properly harnessed, it could act as a focus for your divinations that would bypass any protections the dark lord has undoubtedly instructed his followers to utilize by now."

The implications hit me like a hex. Using the Dark Mark as a tool in my divinations? It's brilliant in a way, but also deeply unsettling. I glance at Dumbledore, who nods gravely.

"I realize this is not a small request," Dumbledore says. "And I would not ask it of you lightly. But the stakes are high, Lucas. The information you uncover could save countless lives as we can prepare before his machinations can come to fruit, the more we stifle Tom's worse impulses, the larger the chance he remains civil."

The dubious face shown by Professor Snape is mirrored in my own expression, I'm sure. Dumbledore is foolishly optimistic if he thinks Voldemort will turn a new leaf.

I take a deep breath, letting the gravity of the task settle over me. "This isn't exactly standard Divination practice," I say dryly. "You're asking me to work with dark magic created by a Dark Lord. That's… Risky, even for me."

At least I can no longer say he isn't involving me…

"Indeed," Professor Snape says, his expression unreadable and his voice stiff. "Which is why - against my better judgement - I will oversee the process. My knowledge of the Dark Mark's intricacies and its… Nuances… Will ensure that the magic does not overwhelm you."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Comforting."

Dumbledore's gaze softens, his voice taking on a note of reassurance. "Lucas, you are not alone in this. Severus and I will provide every resource you need. But the choice, ultimately, is yours - I will not blame you for declining this."

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I mull it over. On one hand, this is dangerous - perhaps the most dangerous thing I've ever been asked to do. But on the other hand, the potential benefits are undeniable. If I can help uncover the activities of the worst of the worst amongst free Death Eaters, I could make a real difference.

"Alright," I say finally, my voice steady. "I'll do it. But I'm going to need some things."

Dumbledore nods, his expression one of quiet approval and lingering sadness, something put aside for pragmatism a moment later. "Of course my boy. What do you require?"

"For starters," I say, ticking off points on my fingers, "A secure space where I can work without interruptions. Preferably somewhere with strong protective wards laid down by yourself, given what we're dealing with. I'll need objects connected to the Death Eaters, use the incarcerated ones for now I guess… Preferably personal items, anything with a strong magical resonance to them, something with dark magic, something I can practice on before even touching the Dark Mark. And I'll need time. This isn't something I can rush."

"Very sensible," Dumbledore says with a sad kind of approval, looking older than he had just minutes ago. "Severus, can you see to the acquisition of these items? If i request them through official channels, Tom will know immediately."

That… Said worrying things about how quickly Voldemort's civilian guise had dug into the Ministry. Or Cornelius Fudge at least.

Professor Snape inclines his head. "Gathering personal items may take time, but it can be done."

I glance at Professor Snape, still uneasy about his role in all this, not that I have acdess to anything better. Not anymore. "And the Mark itself?" I ask with some trepidation.

Professor Snape's gaze darkens slightly. "I will provide access to my own in due time if your practice runs prove viable. It should suffice as a focus for your initial attempts. Beyond that, we will see."

The weight of what he's offering isn't lost on me. Whatever else Professor Snape may be, he's willingly putting himself in a vulnerable position to make this work. He's an ass. But he's willing to put his ass on the line.

I can respect him for that much.

He's still such an ass, though.

Dumbledore clasps his hands together, his expression one of resolve. "Then it's settled. We will reconvene once the necessary preparations are complete. In the meantime, I suggest you both begin considering the specifics of the process."

I nod slowly, my mind already racing with possibilities and pitfalls. This is going to be far more complicated than anything I've done before, but if it works…

Anything to force Voldemort to continue to be on the defensive is worth it.

Professor Snape's lips curl into a faint sneer as he crosses his arms. "This will require more precision than your usual theatrics, Greenwood. I trust you are up to the task?"

I smirk faintly, refusing to rise to his bait. "Don't worry, Professor. I'm nothing if not precise."

Dumbledore chuckles softly, though there's a note of weariness in his tone. "It seems we are all in for a long night of planning. Let us make the most of it."

As we delve into the finer details, the weight of what lies ahead presses down on me. This isn't just any regular divination, it's about walking the razor's edge between light and dark, and hoping I don't fall off.

It probably says bad things about me that I'm feeling a tad excited.

I might… Have a problem.

・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚

Two days later, Hogwarts.

I make my way to Professor Sinistra's office after classes, waving off my friends and promising to join them for games and snacks as soon as I'm done.

When I arrive, I don't even have to knock, Professor Sinistra speaking up from inside the office, "Come on in, Lucas."

The office door creaks as I push it open, and Professor Sinistra looks up from her desk, her quill poised mid-air, it seems I've caught her in the middle of grading, and considering the color ink she's using, people haven't been doing a good job of it. Her sharp eyes soften when they land on me.

"Lucas," She greets, her tone warm. "Come to retrieve your golden ticket, have you?"

I smile faintly. "I could just be coming to see you, Professor..."

She smiles wryly, "Somehow I doubt that. You don't do much on a whim, young man."

She reaches into a drawer, pulling out a folded piece of parchment stamped with the unmistakable seal of the Hogwarts faculty. As she hands it to me, her gaze flickers with amusement.

"Madam Pince is as vigilant as ever," She says with a wry smile. "Expect her to scrutinize this as though it were forged by Grindelwald himself."

"Can't wait," I reply dryly, tucking the pass into my robe. "I'll savor your autograph forever." I joke.

Professor Sinistra's smile deepens for a moment, before she gives me a stern look. "Don't abuse this, Lucas. It's my reputation on the line, for giving a twelve year old this, if you blow yourself up..."

"Understood," I say firmly. "And thank you, Professor."

She nods, her expression briefly softening into something almost maternal. "Take care, Lucas."

The library feels different when you're walking toward its Restricted Section. The air seems heavier, the silence more profound, as though the books themselves are holding their breath. Madam Pince watches me like a hawk the moment I enter the library, like she already knows, her eyes narrowing as I approach the desk.

"I have a pass," I say calmly, pulling out the folded parchment and offering it to her. Aside from the seal on the outside, it's nothing special, just a few sentences authorizing me to use the Restricted Section and Professor Sinistra's signature.

She snatches it from my hand with a speed that surprises me, unfolding it with deliberate care. Her sharp eyes dart over the words, her lips pursing as she reads. Once, twice, and then a third time for good measure.

"This is Professor Sinistra's signature," She says, her voice clipped. "But even professors can have their signature forged. I'll need to confirm its authenticity."

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. "By all means."

Madam Pince pulls out her wand, muttering a series of incantations over the parchment. The seal glows faintly under her scrutiny, and after a tense moment, she finally nods.

"Very well," She says, though her tone suggests she still suspects me of something nefarious. She flicks her wand toward the golden gate separating the Restricted Section from the rest of the library. The gate creaks open slowly, its ancient hinges groaning in protest.

By design I'm sure, because it sure as hell isn't rusty.

"Remember," Madam Pince says sharply as I step through, her voice like a knife in the quiet. "The books in this section are not to be mistreated. A single tear, a single smudge, and I'll have your hide."

"Crystal clear," I reply, my tone polite. People like Pince were simple to please, just don't fuck around, and you were golden.

The Restricted Section is darker than the main library, the shelves taller and closer together, creating a labyrinth of shadowy alcoves. The air smells of old parchment and ink, laced with something faintly metallic - magic, ancient and potent.

Blood magic.

How naughty.

It does make sense. Hogwarts has been around long before most Blood Magic was outlawed.

As I wander the aisles, my thoughts drift to Dumbledore's request. The idea of using Divination to track Voldemort's followers is... Ambitious, to say the least. But it's also a rare moment of pragmatism from the old man. For once, he's willing to use someone's abilities proactively instead of pretending he'll handle everything himself.

Still, it doesn't sit right with me that he and Flamel are keeping details about Voldemort's new civilian persona from me. If I'm going to be of any real use, I need all the information. Holding back only increases the risk of failure.

My eyes catch on a section labeled Divination and Prophetic Arts. I pause, scanning the titles for anything that might stand out. Most of them seem to focus on traditional methods - crystal balls, tea leaves, star charts. Useful, but not what I need at the moment.

I will be back though.

Even if by appearances, the Hippogriff Society had a deeper library on Divination then Hogwarts does, making me wonder if this section has been… Culled…

A faint feeling of something draws my attention to another shelf, where a book bound in dark green leather seems to pulse faintly under the dim lighting. The title, Symbiotic Links in Magical Practice, is embossed in silver.

Symbiotic links... Not exactly what the Dark Mark represents, but it's closer than anything else I've found so far. I pull the book from the shelf and flip it open, the pages crackling faintly under my touch.

The text is dense, filled with theories about magical bonds that enhance or restrict power, depending on their nature. Most of it is abstract, more conjecture than proven fact. Still, there are kernels of insight - discussions of shared magical resonance, of how a link can be exploited or severed.

I skim through the chapters, mentally cataloging anything that might be useful. As expected, there are no ready-made rituals or spells. If I'm going to use professor Snape's Dark Mark as a focus, I'll have to craft the ritual myself.

Great. More work.

Yet…

I wouldn't trust anyone else's work for something like this anyway.

I'd rather build something from scratch, using others' knowledge as a reference.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot another section, this one cordoned off with thick bars. A small sign hangs above it: Blood Magic – Restricted Further by Ministry Order.

I linger for a moment, eyeing the titles beyond the bars. There are ties between blood magic and Divination, I know that much. The books locked away behind that barrier might hold the answers I need - or at least the tools to find them.

But crossing that line would be dangerous, not just because of the law but because of the implications. Blood magic is powerful, but it's also volatile, unpredictable, and deeply frowned upon for good reason.

Besides, using Professor Snape's Dark Mark as a focus is already going to be unpleasant enough. Adding blood magic to the mix would be overkill, not to mention it would set off all sorts of alarms with Dumbledore and the others.

I turn away from the barred section, refocusing on the task at hand.

It did remind me though…

I do have that book on blood magic I picked up from Knockturn Alley…

I scan the nearby shelves one last time before deciding that Symbiotic Links in Magical Practice is the best lead I have for now.

As I head back toward the main library, the weight of the book in my hands feels both promising and daunting. I know this isn't going to be a quick process. Dumbledore will have to wait longer than he expects. There's no way I'm touching the Dark Mark until I have a clear plan.

Even if it's just to track the movements of the more... Distasteful Death Eaters.

I can see the logic behind Dumbledore's request. The likes of Lucius Malfoy, who operate in the open, are one thing. But if the Carrows or others like them are on the move, it means Voldemort is escalating. Perhaps he's testing the limits of his new civilian guise, attempting to circumvent whatever curse is keeping him from dark magic directly.

If that's the case, we need to know.

Madam Pince is waiting for me at the desk when I return, her expression as severe as ever.

"You wish to borrow this?" She asks, her eyes narrowing as she gestures toward the book in my hands.

"Yes," I say simply.

She holds out her hand, and I place the tome on the desk. For the next forty-five minutes, she subjects it to an exhaustive inspection, her wand flicking over every page as she mutters incantations under her breath, layering extra protective magic over the tome.

"You will return this in the exact condition it left," She says sharply when she's finally satisfied. "A single crease, a single smudge -"

"And you'll take it out of my hide," I finish for her, my tone deadpan.

Her eyes narrow further, but she doesn't argue. With a final flick of her wand, she hands the book back to me, her expression grim.

"Do not test me, Mr. Greenwood."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I reply, offering her a faint cherubic smile.

If I'm not mistaken, she almost had her lips raise a millimeter there, she's warming up to me!

As I leave the library, the tome safely tucked under my arm, my mind is already racing ahead. There's so much to do, so much to figure out.

At least this time, it's all without the spectre of impending doom hanging above me.

・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚

Harry Pov

The courtyard is quiet this afternoon, the gentle burble of the fountain the only sound cutting through the stillness. I sit on the edge of the fountain, legs stretched out, my tie loosened and my robes draped over the bench beside me. Across from me, Brian fidgets with his glasses, his expression pensive.

Hermione isn't here. She'd stormed off earlier after another row, muttering something about needing to study. I'd told her she could still go to the study group on her own if she wanted, which, in hindsight, probably wasn't the smartest thing to say.

She'd called me a blockhead and stomped off. Probably deserved that.

I watch Brian as he fiddles with the hinge of his glasses, his brows knit together. He's not the type to blurt things out, so I let him stew in his own thoughts for a bit. He'll speak when he's ready.

After a few more minutes of silence, he finally works up the nerve. "Are you sure about all this, Harry?"

The question catches me off guard a little, not because it's unexpected, but because it's exactly the one I've been asking myself since this whole mess with Lucas started. I sit in silence for a while longer, staring down at the worn stone of the courtyard.

"I don't know," I admit finally, my voice low. "But I can't trust someone that acts so... Slytherin."

If someone can't be upfront and honest about what they are doing… Are they really someone you can trust?

Brian doesn't respond, just tilts his head slightly, prompting me to keep going. With his soft mop of brown hair, and earnest expression, it's like talking to a puppy sometimes.

"He doesn't even try to be upfront," I say, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "He's always got some angle, some plan, and it's impossible to know what's real and what's just... Manipulation."

The truth is, I wouldn't have such an issue with Lucas if he didn't make my gut twist every time I thought about him. Something about the way he carries himself, the way he seems to glide through every challenge, just feels... Off.

He's too good. At magic, at people, at everything he does. Sometimes, it feels like he's more of a professor than a classmate. He always knows the right thing to say, the right thing to do.

And maybe I could've gotten past that, even appreciated it. He did help me, after all. Helped all of us. The study group, the training, everything. But now that I put away my blinders, and realized he planned it all out using Divination, that every step was calculated, it's hard to see it as anything other than manipulation.

It was right in front of me all along, I just never really understood that what he was showing me was all encompassing. Without Brian keeping an eye out, I probably never would have noticed at all.

"You're thinking too much again," Brian says softly, breaking into my thoughts.

I glance at him, catching the way his fingers still fidget with his glasses. He's staring down at the cobblestones, his voice barely above a whisper. "He does get along oddly well with the Slytherins though…"

My face twists into a frown. "And the upper-year Muggle-borns hate him," I add, voicing a thought that's been nagging at the back of my mind.

Slytherins like him, and Muggeborns hate him, doesn't that say enough?

Brian opens his mouth to reply, but his words are cut off by an annoyed huff.

"Uh-oh," He says instead, his voice tinged with nervousness as he gestures with a tilt of his head.

I turn to see two Ravenclaw girls storming across the courtyard toward us. Well, one of them is storming. Su Li, tiny as she is, barrels forward like a freight train, her dark hair flying behind her. Padma Patil follows at a more measured pace, her expression far less stormy but no less determined.

"Did Lucas send you?" I ask as soon as Su gets within earshot. My tone is sharper than I intend, but I don't have the patience for subtlety right now.

If this is all some ploy thought up by the roll of some dice, I'm going to scream…

Su stops in front of me, her cheeks flushed with anger. "The dice told him you'd be better at convincing me?" I ask, sharing my thoughts, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Her eyes narrow, and I can tell immediately I've struck a nerve.

"Do you even hear yourself?" She snaps, her voice high-pitched and indignant. "H-honestly, Harry, are y-you always this stupid, or is it just special for Lucas?"

I open my mouth to respond, surprised by the quiet little girl calling me stupid, but she barrels on, cutting me off before I can get a word in.

"D-do you even realize how much Lucas has done for you? For all of us?" She demands, her small frame trembling with barely contained fury. "He's helped you with your spells and how to grow your magic, your dueling, your... Everything! And what does he get for it? This!" She gestures wildly at me, her voice rising with every word.

I glance at Padma, hoping for some backup, caught flatfooted and having no idea how to respond to the irate girl, but she just shrugs and smirks, clearly content to let Su do the heavy lifting.

"You're acting like he's some kind of v-villain," Su continues, her words coming out in a rush. "L-like he's plotting against you or something! He's always helping, always making things better for everyone around him. And what does he ask for in return? Nothing!"

"That's not the poi-" I try to interrupt, but Su steamrolls right over me, Brian blinking owlishly at her by my side.

"Do you even know what he's been through?" She demands, her voice breaking slightly. "Do you have any idea how h-hard he's worked to get where he is? And you're sitting here, acting like he's the bad guy, just because he's smart enough to use Divination to actually make a difference!"

Padma finally steps in, her tone dry but pointed. "You've been very self-righteous about this whole thing, Potter," She says, crossing her arms. "But let's be real. If Lucas didn't plan things out, half of us would probably still be struggling to be anywhere near as proficient. You included."

That stings, I think, mostly because it's true.

I know all that, for Merlin's sake! It still doesn't make things right!

"And don't even get me started on what you'd be like in the dueling club this year without his help," Su adds, her voice dripping with exasperation. "You'd probably be hexed to pieces as everyone wants to challenge the boy-who-lived."

I clench my fists, my jaw tightening as I try to hold my temper in check. I'm really tired of people telling me I can't feel what I feel.

Weirdly enough, Lucas alone Is probably the only one that just accepted my feelings and didn't try to change them.

Su takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. "Look, H-harry," She says, her voice softer now but no less intense. "You don't have to like him. You don't even have to trust him. But don't you dare sit here and act like he hasn't done anything for you."

I glare at her, my mind racing with retorts, but none of them feel right. That isn't even my issue! I think, unwilling to further stoke an argument, girls are scary, Hermione is proof enough.

I completely believe Su has the capability to punch me in the nose, so I keep mum, even as it rankles.

"Be careful what you say next," Su warns, her tone turning icy. "You're lucky it's just me and Padma. If the rest of the Hufflepuffs hadn't physically restrained Hannah and Susan, you'd probably be in the hospital wing right now. Hufflepuff loyalty is frightening."

With that, she spins on her heel and storms off, her tiny figure still radiating righteous fury.

Padma watches her go, then turns back to me with a faint smirk. "She's not wrong, you know," She says, her tone calm but cutting.

I scowl at her.

Padma tilts her head, studying me with an almost pitying expression. "Here's the thing, Potter," She says, her voice level. "Who's the poor friend in all this? Him, for helping you without telling you how or why? Or you, for spitting on all that help because of nothing but pride?"

She shrugs, her dark hair shimmering in the sunlight. "Maybe it's both. But that still leaves you as equally a poor friend."

With that, she turns and walks off, leaving me sitting there with Brian.

"She's wrong," I mutter under my breath, more to myself than to him. "He's still in the wrong."

Brian doesn't respond immediately, just lets out a long, tired sigh. "So much for a quiet year," He says finally, his tone laced with resignation.

I lean back against the fountain, staring up at the sky. The clouds drift lazily overhead, indifferent to the turmoil brewing below.

Maybe I should have listened to Hermione…

But it just felt right to get this off my chest. To not pretend.

All cards on the table. From my end anyway, Lucas hid so many things…

Ron… If Lucas was divining so much, why hadnt he been able to prevent what happened to Ron?

Maybe that's… When I first began to have a problem.

・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚

Saturday afternoon, Hufflepuff common room.

The Hufflepuff common room is as warm and inviting as ever. It's a place meant for peace, a retreat from the chaos of Hogwarts' ever-bustling halls.

At least, it's supposed to be.

I sit on one of the larger sofas, my head leaning back against the cushions as I close my eyes and sigh. My moment of peace, however, is short-lived.

"Honestly, Lucas," Su starts, her arms crossed as she perches on the armrest beside me, surprisingly bold today, "You're too nice about all of this. If it were me, I'd have hexed Harry by now."

"That's because you're terrifying when you're upset, you turn from marshmallow to Manticore." Neville quips from the armchair opposite me.

"I am not terrifying," Su says, her tone indignant.

"You're terrifying," Neville and Susan say in unison, which earns them matching glares from Su.

"It's true," Padma says lazily from where she's sprawled on a nearby rug, taking full advantage of Hufflepuff comforts. "It's part of your charm, though."

"Glad you think so," Su mutters, rolling her eyes before turning her attention back to me. "But seriously, Lucas, why are you so calm about this? Harry's been a prat, and Hermione's not much better."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, already regretting letting them all corner me like this. "It's not that odd for Harry to be upset," I say, trying to sound reasonable. "He's not used to someone like me. To be fair, most people aren't."

"That's putting it lightly," Susan says with a snort, sinking into the sofa beside me. She tucks her legs under her and leans back, her expression skeptical. "But that doesn't mean he's justified in treating you like you're some kind of evil puppet master."

"I don't think it's about justification," I reply, keeping my tone even. "It's about feelings. He feels manipulated, which isn't entirely wrong, even if I don't see it that way."

"Still," Hannah says from her spot near the fireplace, her arms wrapped around a throw pillow, "It's not like you forced him into anything. Everything you've done has been to help him. And he's acting like you're You-Know-Who's long-lost cousin."

"That's a bit dramatic," I say dryly.

"It's not," Hannah insists, jabbing a finger in my direction. "You're the one who's being too forgiving. Harry's acting like a spoiled brat because he found out someone was actually competent enough to help him improve and didn't ask permission first."

I really think everyone on both sides are blowing this up, I think with exasperation.

Neville frowns at that, his posture straightening. "I don't think it's that simple," He says, his tone more measured. "Harry's always had trust issues, even if it wasn't obvious to most. And Lucas's whole... Divination thing, can come off as... I don't know, unsettling?"

"Unsettling?" Su repeats, huffing, puffing her cheeks up cutely. .

"Let him finish," I say, raising a hand to stop her before she can launch into another tirade. Considering how angry Neville had been before, if he was willing to be more open minded now that he's calmed down, it could only be for the better.

Neville hesitates but continues. "I mean, he's used to people being shady with him. Lots of people are fake around him or act one way while meaning something else, So finding out Lucas plans things out like this? It probably hit a nerve, as he thought Lucas was someone who didn't do that."

I nod, appreciating his insight. "Exactly. It's not that odd for him to feel this way. I still think he's making too much of it, but it's not unreasonable." I give everyone a meaningful look, "Which means stop making it worse…"

Susan huffs, crossing her arms. "Well, whether it's reasonable or not, the rest of the school is already talking about it. The Slytherins are either praising you or twisting it into something sinister, and some of the older Muggle-borns are using it as more proof that you're evil."

I raise an eyebrow at that. "Evil? Really?"

Would they just get over it already? Yes, they got more work, yes it was slightly racist, but it also finally had the magical world acknowledge they need to do better for muggleborns. Baby steps people!

"You know how it is," Padma says, sitting up and smoothing out her robes. "Anyone who's too good at anything automatically gets labeled as suspicious. It's a classic Hogwarts pastime."

"I'm not worried about classmates thinking I'm evil," I say dismissively.

"Of course you're not," Su mutters. "Because you're socially dumb."

I glare at her. "I am not socially dumb."

Every single one of them gives me pointed looks, their expressions ranging from amused to exasperated.

"Oh, really?" Susan says, arching an eyebrow. "What about Tonks last year?"

"What about Tonks?" I ask, confused.

Hannah giggles, hiding her smile behind her pillow. Padma smirks knowingly, and even Neville looks like he's trying not to laugh.

"You're blind, Lucas," Su says, a faint flush to her cheeks, throwing her hands in the air. "Absolutely blind."

"To what?" I ask, my irritation growing.

"To everything!" She exclaims. "You can see the future, but you can't see what's right in front of you. It's ridiculous."

"My friends are all bullies," I complain lightly, leaning back against the sofa with a sigh.

"You love us," Susan says with a grin, nudging me with her elbow.

"Debatable," I mutter, though the corner of my mouth twitches upward.

The conversation shifts after that, the group discussing how to act around Harry, Hermione, and Brian moving forward.

"Maybe we should just ignore them," Padma suggests, her tone casual. "If they want to sulk, let them. It's not our problem."

"That's a bit harsh," Neville says, frowning. "Harry's not a bad person. He's just... Stubborn."

"And Hermione?" Su asks pointedly. Out of everyone, she seems the most upset about all of this.

Neville hesitates. "Okay, maybe she's a bit self-righteous, but she means well and is standing by her mate, that's a Hufflepuff trait!"

"Still, I don't think ignoring them is the answer," I say, cutting into the debate. "Making a big deal out of this will only make things worse, it's really not a big deal."I stress. Honestly, Harry is allowed his feelings.

I did totally manipulate things around him.

"It is a big deal," Susan counters, her expression serious. "Whether you like it or not, news has already spread. People are talking about this, Lucas. This isn't something you can just brush off."

"I'm not brushing it off," I reply evenly. "But I'm also not going to let it dictate how I act."

"You don't have to," Hannah says softly, her gaze thoughtful. "But maybe we should. If people are going to spread rumors, we might as well control the narrative."

"You sound like a Slytherin," I tease, earning a small smile from her.

"Maybe I've been spending too much time with you," She quips back.

The conversation continues, everyone chipping in their own ideas, some more outlandish than others.

"Let's just hex anyone who talks bad about you," Padma suggests, only half-joking.

"Because that will help," Susan says dryly.

Through it all, I try to steer the discussion toward a more measured approach, emphasizing the importance of not overreacting. It's like kids can't think about consequences or something…

"People will always talk," I say finally, my tone firm. "Let them. I'm not worried about what they think, and neither should you."

"You're impossible," Su mutters, shaking her head. Having been advocating for me heavily even as I advocate against me, an interesting argument.

"And you're stubborn for such a tiny cute girl," I shoot back, smirking.

She glares at me, cheeks reddening, but there's no real heat behind it.

The conversation eventually winds down, the tension giving way to the comfortable camaraderie we're all used to. Someone suggests a game of Exploding Snap, but before we can start, a playful jab from Su turns into a pillow being thrown.

It's all downhill from there.

By the time the Great Hufflepuff Pillow Fight comes to an end, the common room is a mess, feathers are floating through the air, and I'm sprawled on the floor, laughing despite myself.

Looking around at my friends, I can't help but feel grateful.

Even if they are bullies.

・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚

The next day, The Undercroft.

I sit at my desk, the book on blood magic spread before me. Its cracked leather cover and yellowed pages exude an unsettling aura, the text dense and written in looping, archaic script.

The two portraits hanging on the wall are far less ominous, though no less irritating.

"This is a mistake," Ominis says, his tone cutting. His pale, painted face leans toward me from the confines of the frame, his blind eyes giving him a ghostly air. "You're delving too deep, too quickly. Blood magic isn't just dangerous - it's corrosive. It stains your very soul."

Sebastian scoffs from his frame on the opposite wall, lounging against the painted backdrop. "Oh, don't be so melodramatic. It's a tool like any other. It all depends on how you use it."

"Says the boy who died young because he delved too deep, too quickly," Ominis retorts coldly, his sneer sharp enough to cut glass.

"And I'd do it all again," Sebastian snaps back, standing straighter, his painted figure brimming with defiance. "Because some things are worth the risk. You'd know that if you weren't such a -"

"Will you both shut up?" I interject, rubbing my temples. "You're like a pair of bickering housewives. I'll never get through this book if you keep whinging."

Sebastian grins lazily. "Well, let's ask the important questions, if Ominis and I are two lonely housewives… Which one of us tops?"

Ominis, unfazed with Sebastian's nonsense, crosses his arms. "If you can't handle our commentary, how will you handle the weight of the magic in that book? Or the consequences?"

I ignore him, my gaze dropping back to the pages. The words blur for a moment as I try to focus, but Ominis isn't done.

"Have you even been working on your Occlumency?" He asks, his tone shifting to something softer, almost concerned. "Or are you still ignoring the... Memories?"

I tense at the question, my fingers curling against the edge of the table. "I've been busy."

It's a lie, and we all know it.

Sebastian leans forward in his frame, his expression serious for once. "Ignoring it won't make it go away, Lucas. You're sitting on a ticking time bomb. Who knows what could happen if you leave it unchecked?"

"And who knows what will happen if I open that particular can of worms?" I shoot back, my tone sharper than I intended.

"That's cowardice," Sebastian says, his voice steady but challenging. "And I didn't think you were a coward."

I glare at him, my jaw tightening. "I'm not a coward."

"Then prove it," He counters, his eyes locked on mine.

The silence stretches between us, thick and tense. Finally, I've had enough. With a flick of my wand, both portraits fall silent, their painted mouths frozen mid-word. The sudden quiet is a relief, and I let out a long breath before returning my attention to the book.

They're not wrong, I admit to myself, though I'd rather not dwell on it. I know I should delve into my memories, sort through the fragments of my old life that weigh so heavily on my mind. But the thought of uncovering more pain, more loss, more... everything, is suffocating.

I'm fine in this life. I don't need anything more from the old one. And I don't care if that means my weird inner alter ego sticks around…

I have more important things to focus on.

The book before me is an escape from my thoughts in this moment, a distraction. I focus on its pages, skimming over the more unsavory parts as I search for what I need. Blood magic is a vast and varied field, and the book offers a wealth of knowledge - most of it unsettling.

The opening chapters outline the fundamental principles of blood magic: the inherent power within blood as a conduit for life and magic. It describes how blood can be used to amplify spells, bind oaths, and even create enchanted objects of immense power.

I skim over these sections, pausing briefly to note a ritual that involves using one's own blood to strengthen a protective charm. The idea is intriguing, but it's not what I'm looking for.

The next section delves into the darker aspects of blood magic. The rituals here are brutal, requiring sacrifices - both literal and metaphorical. One passage describes how the blood of a magical creature can be used to create potions that enhance strength or agility. Another details a binding spell that requires the blood of two individuals to forge an unbreakable connection. One with one being dominant, having full control over the other.

An imperius curse in a way, but utterly unbreakable.

I shudder and turn the page.

Finally, I find what I'm looking for - a chapter on blood magic as it relates to divination. The text is dense, filled with diagrams and theory's, but the core idea is clear. Blood can serve as a foci, a link to the unseen. The stronger the connection between the blood and the subject of the divination, the clearer the visions become.

One passage stands out,

The essence of life, captured within the crimson flow, acts as a bridge between the caster and the cosmic currents. By binding the blood to the intent, the caster may unveil truths hidden beyond the veil.

It's not a direct answer to what I need, its incredibly vague in fact, but it's a start. I jot down notes, my quill scratching against the parchment as I copy the most relevant sections.

Further on, the book mentions the risks of using blood in divination. The connection works both ways, it warns. Just as the caster can peer into the unknown, the unknown can peer back in some cases. Blood magic not too far from Soul magic. The imagery is vivid - Like gazing into a mirror that reflects more than just the physical self."

If Dumbledore wants answers about Voldemort's forces, this might be the best way to get them.

Still, I'm not touching the Dark Mark until I know what I'm doing.

The rest of the chapter focuses on the practical aspects of using blood in divination. It describes how to prepare the foci, how to channel intent, and how to interpret the results. The language is dense and filled with archaic terms, but I sift through it carefully, extracting the pieces that might be useful.

When I'm done, I close the book with a sigh, the weight of its knowledge pressing down on me.

The silence of the Undercroft feels heavier now. For a moment, I glance at the portraits. Their painted forms are still frozen, their expressions locked in a mixture of concern and frustration.

I wave my wand, releasing them from the locking and silencing spell.

"Finished sulking?" Sebastian asks, his tone annoyed.

"For now," I reply, tucking my notes into my bag.

Ominis sighs, his expression weary. "Just... Be careful, Lucas. Some paths are harder to leave than others."

"I know," I say quietly, my gaze dropping to the book.

And I do know. But that doesn't make the path any less necessary.

・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚

Germany,

The room was almost finished, every corner painted in mismatched colors and adorned with symbols that seemed to hum with a faint, otherworldly energy.

Cassiopeia Black sat cross-legged on the floor, her childlike frame wrapped in a loose, flowing robe of black silk. Her pale skin was streaked with splashes of blue and gold, remnants of her latest project - an abstract mural crawling up the walls and creeping toward the ceiling. The mural was a chaotic yet mesmerizing depiction of stars, planets, and swirling galaxies, all coalescing into a single, mysterious eye at the center.

She hummed softly as she worked, a haunting tune that seemed to echo in the small space, her delicate fingers smudging paint across the space spread before her. Her wide, dark eyes sparkled with an eerie, knowing light as she cocked her head to one side, studying her creation.

What the voices told her to paint.

And then she frowned.

Her gaze flicked to the ceiling, an untouched expanse of blank white that mocked her from above. Her short stature was a minor inconvenience most days, but today it felt particularly vexing. Even standing on the tips of her toes atop her small ladder, she couldn't reach high enough to finish the final piece of her design.

And using magic was cheating.

Cassiopeia pouted, tossing a paintbrush over her shoulder with a sigh. It clattered to the floor with an almost theatrical finality.

"Infuriating," She muttered, sitting back down and crossing her arms.

The faint sound of distant bangs and explosions reached her ears, muffled through the thick stone walls of her 'cell'. Her lips twitched into a faint smile.

How quaint.

She didn't feel alarmed - far from it. Her mind was perpetually linked to the currents of fate and the ever-changing tapestry of the future. She saw the probabilities, the twists and turns of what might be, could be, or would never be. And she knew, with absolute certainty, that today was not her day to die.

Still, the noise was distracting.

She briefly considered reaching out to Lucas through their shared mental link. He was always good for a bit of amusement, especially when she pushed his buttons by acting more unhinged than she truly was.

Though, she admitted, insanity was a relative concept. Some days she leaned into it more than others.

The wall to her room shuddered violently, interrupting her thoughts.

Cassiopeia turned her head lazily as a section of stone crumbled inward, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the room. She didn't flinch, merely observing the collapse with mild interest as her tea set - her prized collection of… Something or another, she couldn't remember - wobbled precariously on its little table.

With an exaggerated sigh, she picked up her empty cup and took a long, theatrical sip of invisible tea. "Honestly," She murmured to no one in particular. "I told them warding the door to Tartarus and back was a futile exercise when one could just go through the wall. But did they listen? No. Now look at the mess."

As the dust began to settle, a shadowy figure stepped through the gaping hole in the wall.

Sirius Black grinned at her, his teeth yellowed but sharp, his lean, almost skeletal frame clad in a patched leather jacket that looked like it had been through hell and back. His hair was gone - cleanly shaved - and he sported a ridiculous fake nose and glasses, the kind you'd find in a muggle joke shop.

Not that Cassiopeia knew anything about that. But the voices did love to share their opinions and factoids.

"Well," Cassiopeia drawled, setting down her teacup with a delicate clink. "This is unexpected, I only saw a 12.78 chance of this outcome."

"Sounds like good odds to me," Sirius replied, his voice roughened by years of Azkaban's chill. His grin widened as he stepped further into the room, his boots crunching on the debris. "It's nice to see you, Auntie."

She tilted her head, her expression one of mild exasperation. "You lack decorum, as always. Bursting into a lady's boudoir without so much as a knock. Criminal behavior, truly."

"Well, I am a criminal," Sirius quipped, spreading his arms theatrically.

Cassiopeia's lips curved into a sly smile. "Indeed. Slake your lusts if you will, inmate, I can accept such, but I shan't accept rudeness."

Sirius stopped mid-step, his grin faltering. "Why do you always have to make it weird?" He whined, exasperation creeping into his tone.

"I am weird." She said with full seriousness.

・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚

Hogwarts, moments later.

The weight of sleep clings to me like a heavy fog, warm and comforting, wrapping me in a cocoon of oblivion. For a blissful moment, I'm adrift, floating in that hazy space between dreaming and waking.

Then her voice cuts through my mind like a blade.

'Just thought you should know, I've been kidnapped by Sirius Black. Tell Nicky for me, will you? There's a good boy.'

I jolt upright so fast my head spins. My throat feels dry as sandpaper, but I croak out the only response my half-asleep brain can manage.

'What!?'

Alarm floods my veins like ice water. My heart thunders in my chest as my mind scrambles to process her words. Cassiopeia? Kidnapped? Sirius Black? Did everyone just skip part borders nowadays? He's a wanted criminal for Merlin's sake!

Before I can complete the thought, her voice chimes again, calm and almost soothing, as if we're discussing the weather.

'Oh, don't worry, he's been a perfect gentleman. No molestation at all. It's almost like he's not a Black. Very vexing.'

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. The sheer absurdity of her tone renders me momentarily speechless.

'What!?'

・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚*・゚: *・゚

Author's Note:

Harry has been feeling off about Lucas for a long while, and it finally bubbles over. Paradoxically, the only one who seems to not care is Lucas.

And as always in this story, there must be more Black shenanigans.

Cheers

Jollyhippopotamus