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🕑 Added 2025-04-09 23:12:20 +0000 UTCHe felt a soft vibration in his pocket, and he pulled out his metal card, glancing at the message. It was from Daphne.
The message flickered into view on the metal card in Harry’s hand. The Protean Charm linking the cards was stable, fine-tuned. His was the original, the core. Anything done on his end could echo across the others—add names, split threads, even combine them. A few subtle wand gestures, and he’d set it to group relay mode. They all got the same messages now, a neat little trick he added for chaos.
“Potter, are you alive or did you get yourself killed in some South American jungle? If you’re dead, let me know so I can steal your stash of potions.”
Astoria’s writing followed, neat and even. “She is just shy to admit she is worried and missed you.”
He replied, “Good to know. And you?”
Astoria answered quickly, “Of course! When are you coming back?”
Harry replied, “Couple of days. Just landed back in France.”
Daphne’s handwriting followed next. “Took you long enough. I was starting to think you’d gone native and joined a tribe.”
Harry responded, “Wouldn’t be the worst option. At least they’re not busy pretending they never backed Voldemort.”
Tracey’s message blinked in. “If you joined a tribe, I expect cool tattoos. Preferably on your face. Something terrifying.”
Harry wrote back, “Sure. Big jaguar on my forehead. Might as well lean into the madness.”
Luna’s writing trailed in, light and looping. “Did you see any whispering birds? They only talk to travelers who forget their names.”
Harry replied, “I met one. Told me you still owe it a song.”
She answered, “Oh dear. I’ll need to write a new one.”
Susan’s next message came in, “Glad you're back. We all missed having someone to blame for everything.”
Harry answered, “Happy to be your scapegoat. Blame me for the weather too while you’re at it.”
Hannah’s writing appeared beside Susan’s, “We were taking bets on whether you’d come back single. I said yes.”
Harry responded, “Congratulations. You win nothing but my continued disappointment.”
Ginny’s line slid across the bottom, “Bet she hoped you’d come back in a box.”
He replied, “Please. If anyone wanted me dead, I’d haunt their bathroom.”
She added, “Good. Then I can ignore you even in death.”
Pansy’s message popped up, sharp and precise. “Did you get anything useful, or was it just mud and snakes?”
Harry answered, “Bit of both. You’d have cried at the humidity.”
Hermione’s finally joined the group chat. “I hope you brought proper notes. Some of the sites you visited are historically invaluable.”
Harry responded, “I’ll send you the runes if you promise not to cry over the degradation.”
Her next message came quickly, “Deal.”
Neville’s handwriting appeared a moment later, scrawled but readable. “Glad you're back. I’m still looking after the greenhouse. Your weird plant’s trying to eat my gnome.”
Harry replied, “It’s not mine. And if it survives the gnome, keep it.”
Draco’s message blinked in lazily. “Finally. Things have been too quiet without you.”
Harry wrote back, “Not my fault your social life’s dead.”
Draco added, “Admit it, you missed us.”
Harry’s answer followed, “Maybe. A little.”
Blaise’s short message came next. “Welcome back. We’ve got a few things to catch you up on. Some drama, some politics. Same old.”
Harry responded, “Yeah, I’ll need the rundown. Anything serious?”
Blaise answered, “Nothing worth rushing. I’ll send notes later.”
Theo’s message arrived last in his usual clipped tone. “You didn’t bring anything cursed back, did you?”
Harry replied, “Depends on your definition of cursed.”
Theo added, “If it talks or bites, burn it.”
Harry ended with, “Spoilsport.”
Cedric’s writing showed up at the edge. “Good to have you back. Heard some Auror murmurs about South America. Sounds like you were in the middle of it.”
Harry answered, “They always assume the worst. I was just sightseeing.”
Cedric replied, “Sure.”
Then the longer thread with Daphne picked up again. “So? Was it worth it?”
Then Tracey’s message flickered in. “Be honest. Did you steal anything shiny?”
Harry replied, “Only Miranda’s patience.”
Her response followed. “That poor woman. What did she ever do to you?”
Harry answered, “Taught me Runes. I’m repaying the debt.”
Tracey added, “Right. I’ll send her a fruit basket.”
After that, the card began to quiet down, each charm line cooling off as the last message faded. Harry set it down, the Protean-linked threads still faintly active under the surface. It hummed once, then stilled.
He spent a few more days at the château. Petunia stuck to her usual routine, dividing her time between the garden and the library, while Nicholas and Perenelle gave him space but were quick to dive into magical theory if he so much as glanced at one of their notes. The quiet wasn’t bad. He didn’t bother doing much—rested a bit, caught up on his own readings, even fixed a few runes in the workshop that had gone sloppy over the years.
Two days later, he returned to Britain.
He touched the ring, landed a street away, then walked up to Number 4 Privet Drive like nothing had changed. Since Flamel Estate and Nicholas made sure no one could track Harry, Hogwarts Letter couldn't find him either. He had to return home to get it.
It was late afternoon, sky cloudy, the street empty except for some kid wobbling down the road on a bike too big for him. Harry ignored him. The front door gave a bit of resistance when he unlocked it, like the house itself wasn’t used to being disturbed. Once inside, he shut it behind him and stood in the entryway for a second. The air had that stale edge—not dirty, just… untouched. The place was spotless, sure—charmed to perfection—but the air still had that stale, unlived, the air smelling like no one had lived in it for months.
He dropped his bag in the hall and walked into the living room. Everything was exactly how he left it. Couch cushions still slightly uneven, the rug by the fireplace a bit frayed in the corner, the TV remote sitting on top of an old Transfiguration journal. He sat down, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling for a moment.
The silence wasn’t oppressive, just quiet. He was used to noise—Flamel’s place always had something humming, crackling, bubbling. Even the tent in South America had been full of jungle sounds and the occasional charmed alarm going off. Here, it was just... still.
A soft chime echoed through the house.
He turned his head. A single letter had slipped through the mail slot and landed on the carpet.
"Right on time," he muttered.
He stepped across the room and picked up the letter from the floor. The parchment was firm, the wax seal already cracked slightly from the fall. As he opened it, a small, rectangular shape dropped out and landed on the carpet with a soft tap.
Harry bent down, grabbed it up, and held it up to the light. It was a prefect badge—his name etched below the Hogwarts crest. He stared at it for a second, then turned the envelope over, checking the rest of the contents.
The letter was standard. Nothing surprising. Deputy Headmaster McGonagall congratulating him on the appointment, a brief list of expectations, and a few notes about the upcoming prefect meeting on the train.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that the new term will begin on September 1st. The Hogwarts Express will leave from Platform 9¾ at King’s Cross Station at 11 o’clock. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
He turned the page and glanced over the supply list. Same format. New books for Defense, Transfiguration, and Runes. They’d updated the Potions text too—Snape would complain about that. Probably whine about students being too lazy to learn the “proper” methods in older editions.
"Well, look at you," came Nigel’s voice, dry as ever. "The boy who breaks every rule they’ve got, getting handed the authority to enforce them. Irony’s practically doing backflips."
Harry chuckled, flicking the badge between his fingers. “No surprise there. Snape must’ve backed it. Not that I needed it anyway.”
He dropped the badge onto the coffee table, leaned back against the armrest. “I’m Serpent of the Crown. Highest authority in Slytherin. Not even Snape can override me in the House. Probably no one else would want the prefect spot.”
He reached over to the end table, grabbed a biscuit from the tin Petunia kept stocked, and bit into it. “Same thing happened with Selena. She wasn’t loud or anything, just kept to herself, but once she took the Crown, they handed her Prefect without a second name on the list. Wasn’t a surprise.”
