Archive of Our Own

There was another student here, sat between the creeping ivy and the towering trees, cross-legged and with their back to him.

There was another student here, head covered by their cloak and shoulders narrow enough Theo could have foolishly mistaken them for a witch at first glance.

There was another student, narrow shouldered, sat cross-legged with their back to him, head covered by their cloak and feeding a thestral foal with bits and pieces of raw meat they took out of a brown bag by their side. The foal itself was snuggled close to the student, nosing at their hands and wrists when the treat didn't come fast enough.

There were no other thestrals around, not that Theo could spot on the small clearing between the trees, and he took careful note of this, as thestrals were herd creatures and were known to be aggressive if separated from their young.

Theo couldn't understand why one so young would be left alone with a student until he took a closer look to the foal. The magnificent bat-like wings on its back were twisted, deformed and pinned to its side; the taunt skin stretched over twisted bones and its gray coat was matted and missing entirely in some spots. The foal was incredibly skinny, more so than any normal thestral Theo had ever seen. It ate the meat offered by the student with a ravenous hunger, but it didn't make any movement indicating it could stand on its own.

Theo stepped closer on his own volition. He was no healer, but the Nott family magic had a certain… affinity, perhaps not for the healing in an on itself, but in preservation.

Without realizing, he stepped on a branch, and the quiet of it snapping in the middle of the forest was enough for all other sounds to cease. Theo cursed as birds overhead stopped with their singing, and insects and other small creatures quieted.

Theo watched as the student's back coiled up like a spring, as if ready to take flight. They turned around in one swift motion, wand first, and Theo found himself the sole object of two piercing wide green eyes looking up at him.

Harry Potter.

Harry Potter was feeding a mangled thestral foal in the middle of the forest all on his own.

Theo had never been this close to the Wizarding Savior, had never bothered to pay any attention more than necessary glance to the green eyed boy in his year. He was the typical Gryffindor, he'd reasoned, and Theo had no need to involve himself in any of their theatrics.

Now he wondered if he'd been wrong.

Up close Harry Potter's eyes were as green as the forest that surrounded them, and just as magical. There were blue and purple bruises underneath his eyes that made the green of his irises pop even more, his lashes were long and dark, and a stardust of freckles were scattered on his nose and cheeks like constellations. His hair was dark and his curls untamed, longer than Theo ever remembered them being; one streak of white stood out from the raven's nest, tucked behind one ear and half hidden by the rest of his hair.

Theo took an involuntary step closer, and Potter moved with him. There was no need for an incantation, no need for flashy movements of his holly wand, just the sharp twist of his wrist and suddenly Theo felt pinned on the spot, a prey in the middle of a hunter's trap.

A light appeared between the trees, silver and almost blinding in its intensity despite it being early morning. An animal made of light came into view, magic heavy and solid enough for hooves to leave a trail on the forest floor as it galloped towards them with its head bent down and antlers pointing directly at Theo.

He had but a moment to stumble out of the way before he was ran over by a truly humongous silver stag.

A Patronus.

(A Patronus so dense, so coiled in magic it was corporeal. A Patronus so powerful it left indents on the forest floor in the shape of hooves.)

The stag stopped before him, an impenetrable wall of light and magic that stood between Harry Potter and Theodore Nott.

Theo retreated slowly, not wanting to give a reason to either Potter or his stag to attack.

By the time he crawled his way back to the Castle, he only had one question in his mind, just what in the world had made Harry Potter so paranoid as to summon a full bodied Patronus in the middle of the Forest?

~

Harry Potter had a kitten in his pocket.

Theo stared from a distance and wondered. The kitten in and on itself was not inconspicuous enough for one to ponder too long at it, until one looked closer. In fact, Theo had only noticed it when Harry's nimble fingers kept stealing bits and pieces of bacon when he thought no one was looking.

Theo was always looking, though. Ever since that day in the forest.

The small creature had two small pointy ears, four red eyes and two wispy tails.

Theo stared for a minute, two, ten, until he was sure he'd been staring for at least half an hour at it, at them. At Harry Potter and his pocket kitten.

(The creature was, after all, poking its head out now and then from the other student's breast pocket, nimbling on his fingers and licking away at the grease left behind after all the bacon was gone.)

Never mind that Theo was pretty damn sure a creature of such caliber required at least two summoning circles and a necromancer's pinky for it to work. There was no way a boy, a Gryffindor at that, had managed to summon it on his own.

Theo stared for so long his eyes dried, fearing that if he looked away for a single second the whole mirage would disappear.

~

Harry Potter wasn't speaking to the other two members of the golden trio and he hadn't for as long as Theo had been keeping a keen eye on him. So, give or take two weeks.

Harry Potter did not sit with the rest of his House during meals, and in fact he seemed to avoid any and all interaction with any other being that was not feathered or covered in fur.

Wonder of wonders.

The other Gryffindors were definitely keeping track of their golden boy though, even when the boy himself didn't seem to notice. Eyes followed in his wake, whispers arose and dimmed now and then, and Harry's name was caught between the hush of the crowd multiple times.

Harry himself seemed carefully oblivious to all of it, hands on his pockets and probably playing with his hell kitten. Alas, Theo could see the coil of his shoulders rising with every breath, the way he paled when he walked into crowded classrooms.

He looked tired, more than anything; resigned to his fate, in a way. But, if Theo had learned anything in all the years of being Harry Potter's classmate, it was that he never took things lying down.

So, what had changed?

~

Harry Potter was building a shelter in the forest.

Theo had been following Harry in and out of the castle whenever he could, but even he had to admit defeat sometimes. (He didn't know how Potter had managed to get himself banned from Quidditch, or how he found the time in-between classes to simply vanish into thin air, but no one else seemed to be paying too close attention to him other than Theo himself.)

So, Theo kept with his pace as much as he could, shrouded between the creases of a disillusionment charm to hide himself, and a muffling one to hide his footsteps. There would be no repeat of the first day they had met in the forest.

Harry Potter was making a shelter out of the transfigured wood from cut trees and branches, and he was surprisingly good at it. It was slow going, and Theo knew that the green eyed boy wouldn't finish the shelter by the time the snow hit.

The small thestral foal followed Harry around like a lost duckling, always close enough to lean on the boy for support if needed. It seemed the small creature had found its footing at some point during the weeks after Theo had found them in the forest for the first time, but it was still clearly weak enough to need assistance daily.

The creature was weak and malformed, and it seemed to have an unhealthy attachment to Harry Potter, and Harry Potter in turn, seemed to be attached right back. Theo wondered, more than once, why Harry hadn't simply taken the small foal to the half-giant that played Professor of Care of Magical Creatures.

Alas, Theo couldn't wonder at the marvel that seemed to make up Harry Potter's mind, and the Gryffindor was clearly dead-set on building a refuge for his not-pet.

Theo only found out why the shelter was progressing at a snail's pace when he caught Harry leaving detention one evening.

Logically, Theo knew the other boy had been swamped with detentions falling left and right on his lap. Theo had not been oblivious to what the Prophet spouted between its pages during the summer, nor the ever-present whispers of fellow students that followed everywhere Harry went.

Theo, perhaps in his haste to know more about Harry and his every growing collection of XXXX-rated creatures, had missed the obvious.

Professor Umbridge had a clear distaste for Dumbledore, and by proxy, Harry Potter himself.

(Not that Theo had the pleasure of seeing Dumbledore since the night of the welcoming feast, as the ever elusive headmaster seemed to have sequestered himself in his tower).

Umbridge had started giving out detentions left and right, to any that would offend her, by big or small transgression. Theo hadn't paid much attention to her, and none of the Slytherins in his year (nor the years above or below) were getting any detentions at all.

It was why, perhaps, Theo was startled to find one Harry Potter late one evening, not in the pristine condition Theo had left him in not two hours ago, but injured to the point where the smaller boy had to lean all his weight on a stone wall or fall face first to the floor.

Theo paused in his steps, still hidden between the creases of his invisibility charm and felt, for the first time in a long while, the ugly head of the Cerberus rearing in.

Harry had been fine last he'd seen him, he was sure of it. So why, in the love of Hades, was he pale as a ghost and sweating like he'd run a marathon?

(The three heads of the creature lived and breathed beneath his skin. It was in his blood, to rage at injustices, to want retribution, to crave vengeance.)

(Theo would find who hurt his Harry and would make them regret ever being born).

Theo stood still for a moment, weighting in his options. He could remain hidden, and walk in Harry's shadow as he always did until the boy found the strength to drag himself either to the Infirmary or to the Gryffindor Tower.

He could dispell the charm hiding him and carry Harry himself.

He could knock Harry out.

The decision was taken out of his hands by Harry himself. He grunted, clearly pained, and dragged himself away from the wall and down the corridor.

He didn't head for the Infirmary, which Theo ought to have expected, but he didn't head in the direction of the Tower either.

Instead, Harry Potter dragged himself away from the castle proper, into the castle grounds and further still, into the Forbidden Forest.

Theo knew the path well enough by now, not to trip on any rock or root despite the starless night, as they moved deeper into the trees.

The thestral foal was waiting for Harry, as it always did, in the roots of a dead tree. Harry had carved the earth by hand to make a hole between the bark, small enough for the foal to rest while Harry finished its shelter.

Harry, to Theo's surprise and worry, curled up between the roots of the tree by the thestral and promptly seemed to fall asleep.

The small foal, in turn, looked straight at Theo.

Theo sighed, wondering if he was about to spend a night out in the cold just so he could watch over the Gryffindor's sleeping form.

Theo looked between the make-shift shelter-tree and the wooden structure Harry had been building and decided that yes, yes he was about to spend a night out in the cold.

The spell hiding him fell like a curtain, and Theo took off his cloak and carefully, so very gently, laid it over Harry and the foal where they rested together. The foal watched him carefully for a moment, before laying its bony head on Harry with a sigh.

Theo's magic was not the best suited for transfiguration, building or precision. His was a magic rooted in blood, protection and safe-keeping. He was much better off building wards and keeping secrets.

The Notts, like many other Old Families, followed the Old Religion. Their House was said to have been Blessed in the Ancient times, and their coat of arms carried the weight of it now.

(A three headed dog, resting on a bed of flowers).

Alas, Harry needed somewhere safe, and that was enough for his magic to build up the rest of the shelter and stick.

(And if it took him three long hours of pushing and pulling, of transfiguring bark into actual wood, of having to do the roof at least three separate times because he couldn't figure out what Harry had been fucking thinking, making it flat instead of with a tilt so water and snow wouldn't build on top–).

All the while, Harry and his foal rested between the roots of a dead tree, curled beneath the weight of Theo's cloak and magic.

(By the time Harry Potter woke, he was curled up inside the newly made shelter, nestled in a bed of hay and flowers, covered by a cloak not his own and surrounded by his kitten and foal).

(His injured hand, to his dismay, had been wrapped up in black silk and tied with three knots. When he found it in himself to un-do them, he found the skin underneath unblemished and free of any marks of the blood quill he was so sure had left him scarred for life.)

~

Theo, as was expected, was on a war path.

(He prayed to Ares every night since finding Harry injured and alone. He prayed for courage, prayed for vengeance, prayed for blood).

Finding the owner of the blood quill had been laughably easy.

(All Theo needed was one small hell-kitten, and a few ingredients nicked from professor Snape's well stocked rooms.)

The kitten quite liked Theo, and Theo found the creature to be extremely interesting in turn.

Harry had left the small creature in the shelter, along with the foal and his borrowed cloak, and it was so very easy to ask the small creature to go on an adventure.

(Theo had the pleasure of watching the smaller boy snuggling beneath the cloth of his cloak soaked in his magic night after night, as he curled around the thestral foal and it made his fucking blood sing).

The kitten, as was expected, had smelled Theo's bloodlust and followed like a moth to a flame.

~

Now that Theo was looking, really looking, he could see the damage.

Professor Umbridge was careless with her… peculiar teachings. She seemed to believe not one of the students who had crossed her path would out her in any way for fear of retaliation, only aided by the fact that none of the other Professors were doing anything to look after the chidren.

It was easy to slip into her rooms and find all manner of damming evidence.

Verasaterum, for one, fresh out of the oven by the smell of it.

A blood quill, for another.

A bill being crafted against half-bloods and muggle-borns.

Oh, she was really carving her own grave, Theo thought.

She wouldn't touch a single hair on Harry's head after this. Never again if it was up to Theo.

The kitten was all too happy to eat both the verasaterum and the blood quill, storing it in its stomach until Theo found a way to get her out of Hogwarts.

All things considered he was being extremely kind. He could have made the kitten eat her instead, but he was afraid it would upset the small creature's stomach. Harry would surely get mad at him if he found out.

Either way, with the potion, Snape's ingredients and the torture device out of commission, the professor's claws would be cut for the time being.

(Or so he thought. He really should have known better).

~

Theo was in the process of gathering all evidence against Umbridge to get her the fuck out of Harry's life; from students testimonies to pictures taken by an oddly grim-faced Colin Creevey of the scars on various hands, to the bills and utter blasphemy Umbridge had been sprouting left and right.

It was a very careful process, after all, not every student wanted to talk, and the ones that did were reluctant to have their flesh photographed for the world to see.

Umbridge had cut all exterior communication, from owl's post to fireplaces, perhaps thinking it would cover her own tracks. Alas, she really should have known better than to think no student would revel against such a thing.

(He had side-eyed Malfoy's proud eagle in the owlery. He had been tempted, but then he would owe the blond a favor, and with the rising tensions in the wizarding world it would be best left alone).

A bit of blood here, a bit of blood there, two runic circles and twelve runes to go with it, Theo burned a letter to his father.

It was a gamble, and one Theo would regret if he lost.

Thaddeus Nott was not a kind man, and much less a kind father. But, he cared for magic, cared for magical children in a way only someone who had survived a war could understand.

Thaddeus Nott was, after all, the Head of the Nott family. His blood, just as his son's, was rooted in blood, protection and safe-keeping.

Theo could only hope his father moved fast within the Ministry, otherwise he would have to take matters into his own bloody hands.

~

Theo could not have predicted that having Umbridge's transgressions splattered on the Daily Prophet would turn her wand against Harry.

He could have not. There was no mention of the child savior-'turned liar' on the pages, no pictures of his hands, not one whisper of Harry Potter at all.

Naturally, the Daily Prophet had been banned from the school grounds along with all the mail-post. Theo had no way of knowing if his father had been successful on the first half of his request, and in fact only noticed Umbridge's tension when he walked past a Ravenclaw crying on the steps leading down to the courtyard right after Defense class had finished for the Gryffindor -Ravenclaw group.

Harry Potter got detention for breathing wrong that morning, he would later hear in between agitated whispers. Umbridge was on a war path, it seemed.

(Theo's heart seized in his throat. He hadn't seen Harry since lunch).

He ran to the Forest, expecting Harry to be sitting between his foal and his kitten, snuggled beneath Theo's cloak in the shelter they had built for themselves.

He was not.

As he ran now, his footsteps were echoed by a pair of hooves.

Harry Potter had detention with both Umbridge and Snape that evening, it turned out. Theo had dragged the information out of a very flustered Gryffindor whose name escaped him in his haste.

It shouldn't have been possible. Professors were not meant to give out double-detentions. There were rules on it on the Hogwarts Charter.

The dungeons were the farthest from the ground's entrance, so Theo skipped ahead towards the Defense Classroom.

The door, predictably, was closed with magic.

Alas, Theo had a hell-kitten and a death-horse following in his shadow.

The kitten, without needing to be promoted on it, ate the magic guarding the door.

Theo stepped in, wand first, and almost committed murder on the spot.

Harry Potter was in his back on the atrocious pink rug that covered the Headmistress' Office, twitching and trembling. He had clearly bitten his tongue at some point, and a trail of red slid down his cheek towards his jaw and down his neck.

He didn't make a single sound, even as another tremor left him.

Umbridge was standing over him, sweating profusely and holding a truly awfully short wand on her small hands.

The force that left Theo's own wand to cut off the spell torturing Harry flung Umbridge against the wall none too gently.

Blood, protection and safe-keeping, those were the roots of his magic.

(Hades be willing, Theo would send her right into the afterlife).

Darkness, bloodlust and death now curled lovingly over Theo's hands.

Alas, he could not. If Umbridge died here and now, she would never answer for her crimes. Death would be far too kind.

(Besides, Theo planned to use her to clear Harry's name.)

He stunned the professor with enough force to leave his arm tingling and hoped the damage was not severe enough to leave her a vegetable, and turned to his Harry.

Harry, who was silently watching him from his place on the floor, blood running from his mouth and silent tears leaving his lovely green eyes.

The foal had curled around Harry's side when Theo wasn't looking and it was chirping a mournful sound.

"Harry," Theo whispered, magic curling around the smaller boy like it would be able to take the pain way. It wouldn't, Theo knew. His magic was not rooted in healing, but preservation, and he had already used more than a fair bit of it to take away the mark on Harry's hand. Anymore of that too soon and he could unwilling send Harry down to meet his Patron.

Harry made a confused, small sound that sounded pained and scared. It sounded like a small animal cornered and injured and ready to meet its fate.

Perhaps Harry didn't know Theo was here to help.

"Harry," he tried again as he lowered himself to his knees. "I'm Theo, see? We're classmates, I'm–"

"I know who you are," Harry whispered, cutting him off. More blood left his mouth, and it clearly pained him to talk. "The shelter." Harry said, and after a moment, hesitantly added, "the cloak."

"Yes, yes." Theo nodded, hands hovering over Harry's body, unsure of where to put them. "That was me. I'll take you to Madame Pomfrey now, okay? She'll set you right."

Harry shook his head fast, pupils nothing but pin-pricks against a sea of green. "She won't. She won't do it, I've already–she called me a liar, said that–"

Harry was hyperventilating then, and Theo decided to throw caution out the window. He gathered Harry in his arms and wrapped them both in a cocoon of magic and warmth.

"Not Pomfrey, then." He thought long and hard for a moment, before deciding that yes, Harry was worth yet another gamble.

Theo eyed the fireplace in the corner, then Umbridge's still body.

"I'll take you to St. Mungos, how about that, Harry? You know what it is, right?"

Harry nodded, breathing still labored but less panicked.

"What 'bout her?" he slurred, swallowing a mouthful of blood.

Theo turned to look back at the professor, still crumpled on the ground.

"Oh don't you worry, she'll get her due." Theo twisted his wand in a slow circle, and black chains sprouted from the ground. "She'll stay here until I break her out, unmoving. In limbo, in a way. She won't hurt you again."

Harry turned to look at his foal with sad eyes, hands reaching out to pet its snout.

"He can't come with, right?"

"Actually…" Theo eyed the kitten sat on Harry's lap, and wondered exactly how much Harry knew about it.

The kitten ate the foal, safe-keeping it in its belly until they were admitted and Harry was placed in a recovery room of his own in the Hospital. Only then was the thestral spat out with a burp.

Harry found the whole process amusing.

(It could have also been the frightening amount of potions he was administered with).

Theo stayed even after all healers had left. He stayed even after the nurses had tried to gently pry him away from Harry's bedside, after all, they couldn't outright kick out an Heir to an Ancient House just because.

Thankfully, the medical staff were under a confidentiality oath, and Theo had been smart enough to write down his name instead of Harry's in all the forms.

Alas, that also meant that not thirty minutes after all healers had deemed Harry out of any real imminent danger, a shadow obscured the threshold of the hospital room in the shape he knew to be his father.

"Theodore," uh, his tone sounded less reproachful than usual.

"Thaddeus," Theo returned, because theirs was a transactional relationship more than a filial one, ever since his mother had passed.

Thaddeus Nott eyed him up and down, perhaps looking for all the injuries the healers had no doubt found in Harry and written down in Theo's own medical history instead. Then his eyes dragged over Harry's sleeping form, the thestral curled by the end of the bed and the kitten nestled between his curls.

"Ah," his father said, and nothing more.

Theo frowned. He'd never known his father to be at a loss of words.

"Ah, what?"

"Nothing, Theodore. You have surprised me, is all." At the questioning hum, he continued, "You've never been quite this interested in someone, to go as far as to lose a couple of favors–"

"It was a gamble."

"Yes," Thaddeus answered, "I suppose it was. Never the less, it seems you've found your–"

The door to the hospital room slammed open, and there, uninvited and grim looking was Albus Dumbledore.

Damn. Theo had hoped he would have more time.

~

What followed was, as Theo had carefully calculated, a mess.

Umbridge and all her crimes (with a few new added ones as well) were splattered in every news article no matter how hard the Ministry tried to cover it up.

The use of a blood quill on defenseless students, along with the marks of the cruciatus on Harry's ever trembling hands was enough for three life-sentences on Azkaban.

It didn't matter that the Minister pushed for exoneration while also trying to cover his own behind. What mattered was the outcry of concerned parents and the general public, turning against the Ministry as a whole.

Of course, Fudge was fired on the spot. His chair was taken temporarily by the Head of the DMLE Amelia Bones, until elections could be organized for the new Minister for Magic.

Dumbledore had, perhaps predictably, tried to downplay the whole thing.

(Harry's injuries included).

Thaddeus Nott, along with a very angry-looking werewolf in the shape of Remus Lupin had pushed against the headmaster as an unlikely united front.

Later, Theo would find out their former Defense teacher was very involved with not-mass-murderer Sirius Black, who coincidentally fell free after Madame Bones realized he'd never been given a proper trial.

Sirius, Harry wrote to him in his letters during summer break, was as close to a father as he'd ever known, and he was beyond happy to be living under his roof.

(No matter how much Theo tried to convince him to visit Nott Manor. Perhaps it was for the best, after all, Theo didn't think he'd be able to let Harry leave).

(After all, his magic was rooted in blood, protection and safe-keeping).

Alas, he did see Harry during the holidays.

If Harry wouldn't come to him, Theo was more than happy to come to Harry.

Harry was specially delighted to see his hell-kitten, who had decided to stay with Theo for the time being.

(Apparently kittens hated dogs, or so Harry had claimed. Theo hadn't understood what exactly he was referring to, but there were a lot of things Theo didn't understand about Harry, so he let it slide).

During his visits, Theo let Harry drag him into the gardens of the little townhouse in London, where they spent their afternoons feeding the foal, who only got stronger as the days and weeks went by. It would never be able to fly, but after a much-needed visit from a magizoologist, it wouldn't otgerwise be an impediment on its development.

During those warm afternoons as the sun set, Theo would let Harry curl against his shoulder with a sigh, faint tremors that would disappear with time still leaving his muscles now and then.

Harry, who traced shapes and spells with his wand, more often than not would summon his light-guardian.

He didn't need it now, not as he rested in the shadow of Theo's magic, but it was a comfort to know that the creature would still come if prompted.

Theo, in response, always placed a kiss on his curls. He, more than anyone, understood that shadows were only as dark as the light that cast them.

"Harry."

"Hmm?"

A bouquet of orange flowers was placed on his lap, beside the snoring head of a thestral.

There was no question Theo could ask to express the well of feelings he felt for Harry, there were no words written or spoken that could ever encompass the depth with which he loved him.

But Theo knew, without needing to ask, that Harry would understand. Because Harry had grown in the most adverse of conditions, had clawed his way to safety by the skin of his fingers and had stayed there, unmoving and warm in the cocoon Theo had built for him.

Harry smiled as he turned to face him, green eyes as rich as the forest that surrounded them.

"Yeah, okay."

Harry leaned in to press a kiss on his lips, sealing an oath that would remain unsaid until they tied their three knots.

(Theo was, after all, a keeper.)