Chapter Text
“Eliot, come here, let me make sure I’ve got yours calibrated correctly,” Hardison called.
Eliot sighed and put down the dish he was drying on the rack before walking over to the table where Hardison had been working. “What do I do?” he asked.
“First, take this,” Hardison said, grinning up at him. He held the wand out to Eliot, hilt-first. It was darker than Harry’s and a little shorter. “It’s ebony, nine inches, dragon heartstring, if anyone asks.”
Eliot shot Hardison a look as he took it. “Are you telling me you actually acquired the heartstring of a dragon?” he asked, examining it closely.
“Mmhmm,” Hardison said. “That apothecary didn’t stand a chance against Parker. It should be perfectly safe though; since you’re not magical, it won’t react to anything.”
“Should be?” Eliot demanded.
“Hey, I only found out magic exists a few months ago! I am doing my best,” Hardison protested.
“What’s the point of having it be magical if the magic won’t do anything?” Eliot asked.
“It’s basically a fake ID,” Hardison explained. “Anywhere you go in the wizarding world might ask you for it. There’s gadgets that will check what it’s made of. We’ll have to figure out a way to check whether the modifications I’ve made will make it show up as anomalous on that end before we use them in earnest.”
“Modifications?” Eliot asked.
Hardison grinned. “Say, ‘lumos’.”
Eliot rolled his eyes. “Lumos,” he said. The tip of the wand lit up to the brightness of a flashlight. Eliot surveyed the beam appreciatively.
“Cool, right? Now, say, 'Nox'."
"Nox," Eliot repeated, and the light went out.
"Alright, now give the handle two quick squeezes.”
Eliot sighed, but he did as he was told. Red sparks shot out of the end. “Dammit, Hardison!” Eliot shouted, narrowly managing to hold onto it.
“Hey, at most, they will slightly sting,” Hardison said. “The red colour’s made possible by loading it with a little bit of strontium, which we’ll have to replenish periodically, so don’t waste it.”
Eliot rolled his eyes.
“Alright, last one,” Hardison said.
“There better not be pyrotechnics with this one,” Eliot growled.
“Nah,” Hardison said. “Say, ‘Clickerus’.”
“Clickerus,” Eliot repeated warily. The screen behind Hardison lit up and Eliot’s favourite television chef appeared on the screen.
Hardison smirked at him. “I can program it to take specific channel requests later, but for now you get one default.”
“...Alright, that’s kind of cool,” Eliot admitted.
“Where’s mine?” Parker chirped from Eliot’s elbow.
“Dammit Parker,” Eliot grumbled.
Hardison grinned at them both. “Right here,” he said, holding out a wand to her. Parker’s was a very light wood, almost the colour of her hair. “Ash, twelve inches, kelpie hair.”
Parker took it and gave it an experimental swish. Purple sparks shot out of the end, and she grinned.
Eliot took a few steps back, eying her warily.
“Lumos, Nox, Clickerus,” she said. The light at the end flared briefly before going out, and the television switched to showing a jewellery auction. “Sweet.”
“Fred,” Harry called. Both twins stopped and turned in unison.
“Devereaux,” George said, nodding at him.
“Harry,” Fred added.
“How can we help you, young troublemaker?” George asked.
Harry grinned at them. “McGonagall’s just given us the speech about not being able to use magic outside of Hogwarts,” he began.
“Ah,” Fred said.
“Crushed our young innocent spirits, too, the shame,” George sighed.
Harry’s face fell. “There’s no way around it?” he asked.
Both twins gave him an appraising look.
“Well…” Fred said.
“Maybe…” said George.
“We could get away with it if Mum would let us,” Fred said. “The Trace can’t tell the difference between us and Mum, just that there’s magic happening around us.”
“But you live with muggles, right?” George asked.
“My aunt and uncle are magical,” Harry said, though he didn’t really want to risk the con on the twin’s understanding of the Trace.
“Oho,” Fred said interestedly. “Then perhaps you could get away with it.”
“Hmmm,” Harry hummed.
“What mischief might you be planning, young Devereaux?” George asked.
Harry considered for a moment. “I wanted to experiment with magic and muggle technology,” he said. “There’s too much magic here for most muggle technology to work properly, so I was hoping to do some at home, where the ambient magic can be better controlled.”
The twins exchanged a look.
“Have either of our brothers told you much about our dad?” George asked.
Harry shook his head.
Fred smirked. “He’s a bit obsessed with muggles,” he said.
“And I’m sure he’d love to help you experiment,” George added.
“Mum and Dad are going to Romania this Christmas,” Fred said, “but if you wanted to get our families together over the summer…”
“Much as we’d love to see you break rules,” George conceded.
“That might be for the best,” Fred said.
Harry grinned at them.
Harry said a quick goodbye to Hermione as they emerged from the barrier to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, then ran to where he had spotted Sophie and hugged her tightly. She laughed as she hugged him back and kissed the top of his head. After a long moment, Harry let her go and turned to Eliot, who gave him a shorter but no less tight hug.
“Glad to have you back, kid,” Eliot said.
Harry beamed at them.
“Do you want us to meet any of your friends’ parents?” Sophie asked. “Is Mr…Weasley was it? Here?”
Harry considered. “The Weasleys aren’t,” he said. “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to visit one of their older sons, so everyone else stayed at school. Blaise stayed too. Hermione and Neville came home though,” he said, looking around for them.
He spotted Hermione first, her bushy hair easy to see through the crowd, talking animatedly to a couple that must be her parents. Scanning the rest of the crowd, his eye was drawn to an elderly woman who seemed to be wearing a stuffed vulture on her head, and with mild horror Harry recognised Neville meekly following in her wake. “Neville will be harder to catch,” Harry said, deciding, and set out towards him, letting Eliot tug the bag out of his hand as he and Sophie trailed after him.
“Neville,” Harry called out, and Neville looked up, startled, but smiled when he spotted Harry, and tugged at his grandmother’s sleeve. She spun, looking very stern, but Neville gave her a pleading look and gestured to Harry. She frowned at him as he she regarded him.
“My family wanted to meet you, since I’ve written home about you so much,” Harry told Neville.
Neville blushed, and his grandmother straightened, her annoyed look taking on a touch of pride.
“I’m Sophie Devereaux,” Sophie told Mrs. Longbottom, holding out a hand. “Harry’s mum. And this is my brother, Eliot.”
“Augusta Longbottom,” the other woman said, and shook Sophie’s offered hand. “Pleased to meet you. Neville’s told me a bit about Harry, too. It certainly sounds like the boys have been good for each other.”
Sophie gave her a warm smile. “I believe it has,” she said. “Well, I just wanted to introduce ourselves; we’re hoping to catch up with another of Harry’s friends, too. Happy Christmas!”
“Happy Christmas,” Augusta smiled back at them, and then she and Neville started off again.
Hermione bounced and waved when she spotted Harry coming towards her, and Harry grinned back.
“Your family are muggles too!” Hermione said, as the adults introduced themselves. “Or some of them, anyway. I should give you our phone!” She rummaged in her pockets for a quill and parchment.
Harry laughed and took out his cell. “You can just put your number in here,” he said.
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, you have your own mobile already! I suppose Mum and Dad might have let me have one, if it would work at Hogwarts, but now…” She entered her number. “That’s just our landline. Call me this evening so I can take down yours?”
“Will do,” Harry said.
Hermione’s mother put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked sheepish. “We have to go. Bye Harry! Don’t forget to call!”
“I won’t,” Harry promised, and turned back to Eliot and Sophie.
“You seem to have made some good friends,” Sophie said, squeezing his shoulder.
“I have,” Harry grinned.
Eliot raised an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly.
“What?” Harry asked.
“Nothing,” Eliot said after a moment, smiling wryly as he began walking towards the station exit.
“What?” Harry insisted.
“Nothing,” Eliot said.
“Eliot,” Sophie tutted.
“What?” Eliot asked.
“He’s only eleven. Let him have his friends.”
Harry, abruptly and belatedly realizing what that look had been about, snapped his mouth shut and blushed scarlet.
Sophie bit back a laugh and put her arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Don’t mind him,” she said. “Although,” she said, her voice dropping to a low murmur, “between you and me, if and when you do want something other than friends, he’s your best bet for advice.” She winced, and Eliot chuckled, throwing them both a smug look. “Because he at least pretends to not overhear personal conversations on my comms without telling me he’s there, Nate,” she huffed. “Just because he’s not my type doesn’t mean I can’t recognise that he’s very good at it.”
Eliot had gotten a good spot in the carpark, and soon they were on their way to the London HQ. Harry’s reunion with the rest of the team was just as excited, and they’d closed the bar early so that they could have it to themselves. Harry clambered happily onto a bar stool between Parker and Hardison, who were both bombarding him with questions, and Sophie went to sit with Nate on the other side while Eliot went to finish up dinner preparations.
Eliot had made all of Harry’s favourites, and they all happily hashed out plans for the break over dinner. Presents, of course, were Harry’s first order of business; he had been blown away to wake up to a pile of presents from the team the year before, and this year he was determined to get suitable presents for all of his new family and friends. Sophie promised to help him do most of his shopping (Nate promptly had a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like “acquiring”), and Hardison murmured a quick promise to help him with getting a present for Sophie.
The team had put a moratorium on jobs while Harry was with them. Partly Harry was disappointed to not get a chance to help, but really he was touched and happy to have them all to himself. They’d all been disappointed to find out that Harry wouldn’t be able to do magic at home, but Hardison had an updated plan of experiments he wanted Harry’s insights on anyway, and Parker—since simply using a broomstick didn’t require Harry to be doing any magic—was ecstatic to try flying. Eliot had also set up meetings with the wizarding solicitor he’d found and the publicist Blaise had recommended, so that Harry could have faces to their names and ask any questions he wanted.
The weekend before Christmas, London was a flurry of activity. Harry held tight to Sophie’s hand as the two of them manoeuvred through the muggle shopping district. He’d wanted to get a muggle book on chess for Ron, since the wizarding world didn’t seem to have much in the way of documented strategy, and one on plants for Neville, who always seemed to be insatiably curious when it came to herbology.
Diagon Alley was also quite busy, and Harry was glad they’d picked a different disguise for him than the one he’d been wearing at school when he recognised several of his classmates bustling around with their families. Their first stop was Sugarplum’s Sweets, where Harry selected a large gift assortment for Parker, and then Flourish and Blotts, where Harry hoped to find several good presents. Browsing the “Combat magic” section, he found a book on physical manoeuvres for duelling that he thought Eliot might like. For Nate, he found a book on wards and other anti-theft magic. He wasn’t sure what to get Hardison; they’d already discovered that the magical world had a dearth of material about muggle technology and its intersection with magic, but the shop had a small section of magical newspapers and magazines that included a newsletter from something called “the Department of Mysteries” that Harry thought both Hardison and Hermione would enjoy. Blaise was even more of a conundrum. He seemed to be very well-off, and well-connected in both the wizarding and muggle worlds. Eventually though, remembering Blaise’s questions about some of the elements of Harry’s disguise, they ventured back to the muggle part of London to pick up a few bottles of easily washable hair dye and some basic makeup.
Hardison found him that evening after Harry had carefully stowed his purchases in his room to wrap later, and showed him a clipping from The Daily Prophet that he’d found and saved a while back, an advert for a service that could convert muggle photographs to wizarding ones. He’d also taken a few candid photos of Harry and Sophie during the break thus far, and after some thought Harry selected one from the first night he was home, when Sophie had hugged and beamed at him after hearing how he’d handled the autograph requests. Hardison printed off the photograph for Harry to send in and offered to help him find a frame for it. Harry smiled and took the photo but declined the frame, then slipped out of the room to ask Parker’s expertise for the plan he’d just hatched. Sophie would appreciate a framed photo, he was sure, but it wasn’t like she had much use for a desk. A locket, though—he thought she’d like that.
Everyone on the team loved their gifts, Sophie even getting suspiciously teary-eyed at the locket. The previous Christmas they had gotten him a charm bracelet—a thin dark silver chain with matching small charms in the shapes of a lightning bolt, a Minecraft creeper, a filming clapboard, a shamrock, a chef’s apron, and a faceted diamond—and this year they had gotten him a little lion charm to add to it, and a mix of sentimental and practical gifts from each of them. Parker had gotten him a grappling hook that could fit in his Quidditch kit, so he wouldn’t have to rely on the broom as his only possible anchor point if he lost control again. Hardison had managed to perfect a taser design that still worked in Diagon so would hopefully work at Hogwarts.
“Really it’s from Eliot, too,” he said, looking oddly guilty.
“Somehow I think having an excuse to tase me was more of a gift to you than to Harry,” Eliot grumbled, but he smiled as he passed over his own bundle, which turned out to be a magically refrigerated bag, which Eliot promised to fill with Harry’s favourite sweets for the next term.
Sophie had gotten him a book of anecdotes by incognito celebrities, and Nate a subscription to a wizarding magazine called Quidditch Quarterly.
He’d gotten a small pile of presents from his friends, too: A study planner that automatically organised and colour-coded itself from Hermione, a book from Ron on the Chudley Cannons, his favourite team, and a large selection of wizarding sweets from Neville. Blaise’s gift came with a lengthy note apologizing for it not being truly useful for Harry himself, but that he hoped a present to the benefit of his family would be accepted. Harry’s eyes widened as he read the explanation for the enclosed amulet, then held it out to Sophie. “It probably won’t work somewhere that’s as heavily protected as Hogwarts,” Harry said, reading from the note, “but it will work in places like Diagon and let you get past basic muggle-repelling charms, the kind that you usually can’t get past without being in contact with someone magical.”
“Well that’s certainly useful,” Sophie said, examining it. “We asked around about something that might help with that, but the only information we could find was that things like this are carefully regulated.”
Harry nodded, passing her the letter. “He implied that this one may not be strictly legal.”
“Sounds like a bad influence,” Nate said, completely deadpan, and Harry snorted.
“Try not to turn all your classmates into criminals,” Hardison said.
“And make sure you’re teaching them how to not get caught,” Sophie added with a wink.
The last present in the pile was, to Harry’s amazement, from Professor Dumbledore himself. The note read simply: “Your father left this in my possession before he died; it is time it was returned to you. Use it well. Merry Christmas.”
Harry looked at Eliot after reading out the card, who frowned.
“He put his own name on it,” Sophie pointed out.
“Still glove up,” Eliot decided, “but you can open it yourself.”
Harry beamed and got the thick gloves—dragonhide now, since they’d learned that added some shielding magic too—they’d been keeping behind the bar, then opened the parcel. An expanse of shimmering silver fabric fell out. Still wearing the gloves, he picked it up, trying to find the end if there was one.
“It’s a cloak,” Hardison said, peering at it. “It’s hard to focus on though, maybe it’s a disguise thing?”
“Can I put it on?” Harry asked eagerly.
Eliot frowned and reached for it. “Let me…” but Parker beat him to it, ducking into the folds of the fabric, and then suddenly both she and the cloak were gone.
“Parker!” Eliot shouted, and Harry felt his own stomach flip unpleasantly. They’d known Dumbledore could transport people by having them touch something, he’d told Harry about it in the letter, before he was sure the team would let Harry talk to him, and…
“I’m here!” Parker said quickly, and her head, though not the rest of her, reappeared.
Eliot nearly tackled her. Harry couldn’t quite tell if it was a hug or if he just wanted to check that the rest of her body was still there. Hardison looked a bit shaken too, but he seemed content with Eliot’s assessment.
“Don’t do that, Parker,” Eliot growled.
“I didn’t know!” Parker said, whisking the rest of the cloak off and letting Eliot look her over. “Did it make me entirely invisible?”
“Yes,” Nate said, eyeing the cloak with interest. “To us, anyway. Hardison?”
“Let’s see,” Hardison said, pulling up the camera feed. He let out a low whistle. “It is also invisible to the normal cameras, though not to the infrared.”
“That’s a relief,” Eliot breathed.
“To the more important question though,” Hardison said, looking at Harry with a gleam in his eye. “What mayhem are you going to cause with this?”