Title: Bros Fucking it Up

Author: Sibyl Moon

Fandom: Harry Potter

Genre: Gen, Adventure, AU, Fix-It

Relationship: Harry Potter & Neville Longbottom Brotp

Word Count: 5883

Warnings/Rating: Canon-Level-Violence, Discussion-Murder, Discussion-Torture, Murder, Torture, Discussion-Rape by potions, Discussion-Assault, 

Summary: Harry and Neville have watched their world fall apart around them a second time, losing their families again. The magical world is failing, so when the dverger offer them a chance to change everything, neither one hesitates. Harry and Neville return to the past to change what they can, the prophecy that links them–makes them brothers in all but blood will give them the strength to save magic and if they fuck up those who betrayed both them and magic along the way? Well they’re due their own revenge tour.

Author Note: Brotp Harry & Neville

Chapter One

12/1995

Harry made his way through the halls, his footsteps silent from a lifetime of practice that no spell could imitate. The invisibility cloak slung back over one shoulder, giving him an odd silhouette to anyone looking. Still, no eyes followed him as he strode forward with footsteps steady and sure toward his destination. He didn’t have any trouble finding what he was looking for, despite the labyrinth of halls in the department of mysteries and the confusion spells lining the floors and walls of the area. Harry entered the last corridor and flung the hood of his cloak over his head with a careless gesture. Conversations he’d had after the war had left Harry with the knowledge that the order hadn’t had the manpower to have anyone on watch at this time, but it was better to be cautious. Harry made his way down to a door that he’d never seen in this lifetime, but he’d never forget the number of nightmares that started the first time he’d set foot in there.

“Here we go,” He murmured, beginning to spin his wand in fingers that surprised him to abrupt stillness when it triggered the sharp pain in his hand, but he pushed past it and the spike of white-hot anger that flared with it. “Alohomora.”

The door swung inward on a whisper of sound, and Harry drew the cloak closer around him, keeping himself hidden. As much as he knew about this time period, he was unsure if anyone was on duty inside the room. No one had been around when they’d shown up six months from now, but the deatheaters had already made their bloody way ahead of them back then.

‘Hurry up Harry, I’m freezing my balls off out here,’ Neville complained through their temporary link. ‘Also these things aren’t any less disturbing now than they were back then.’

‘Neville, you’ve worked at Hogwarts for twenty-four years,’ Harry said, amused, despite the situation. ‘Shouldn’t you be used to the thestrals by now?’

‘Fuck no,’ Neville replied with no small amount of venom. ‘I’m not as fit as I was back…then…fuck it all, time travel is really bloody fucking with my mind, Harry.’

‘What does how fit you are have to do with anything?’ Harry made his way on silent feet down the rows of prophecy orbs, his eyes dancing over initials until he found the first of the ones he sought. Pulling his wand, he began to scan for warding spells and charms while he waited for his brother’s answer.

‘I swear they’re eyeing me up for their next meal.’

‘I doubt it, they like dead things according to Luna and you’re still alive,’ Harry replied absently as he disarmed three separate warning spells, two of which held Dumbledore’s personal signature. 

‘Are you sure?’ Neville’s voice was dryer than dust. ‘That ritual the dverger put us through felt like it tore us apart, matter of fact, I’m not altogether sure it put us back together correctly. Fairly sure I might have one of your kidneys.’

‘You should be honored to have one of my kidneys,’ Harry said, feeling a smile creep across his face as he finally disarmed one of the orbs and slipped it into the specially designed bag he’d brought. He knew better than to listen to it now, and he knew better than to try and touch it barehanded, just in case. He moved down a few more rows to the next orb. ‘You’re right, though. I might have your spleen, but I’m not too bothered by it all as long as I have my own prick.’

‘Bloody hell, Harry,’ Neville said, panicked.

‘You’re checking, aren’t you?’ Harry stifled a laugh because he knew that that was precisely what Neville was doing, and he was picturing his prophecy brother baring his arse and prick to the thestrals to try and do a thorough examination in the dim evening light.

‘It’s too fucking cold for this,’ Neville complained again. ‘I can’t believe you have me worried about my prick out here in London in December. I should disown you as my brother.”

“Well, I suppose you could,’ Harry said with a shrug that Neville wouldn’t see. ‘But as we aren’t related by blood, it wouldn’t do you much good, and I’m clingy, so you wouldn’t get rid of me that way.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Neville said, but he sounded more fond than annoyed. ‘Guess I’m stuck with you then.’

‘You love me.’

‘Suppose I do at that. You almost done in there?’

‘I just finished on the second orb, just have Trelawney’s Prophecy to go,’ Harry said; he couldn’t stop the grimace as he moved towards it.

‘We ever make a decision on the validity of it?’

‘No, I’m voting we take it into the dverger and get one of their seers to inspect it,’ Harry said. He began to run his diagnostic spells over the orb and saw the tangled web of warning spells and wards were thick around this one, which he supposed made sense as this was the one that Dumbledore was hinging everything on. The spells on the other orbs had only been to warn Dumbledore if someone had shown interest which depending on what they said, would change his game, but Dumbledore was probably betting that no one knew about the other two prophecies.

‘I’ll go for that, but I doubt we’re going to be that lucky. It’s probably real.’

‘Yeah.’ Harry didn’t really want to think about that, so he finished what he was doing, carefully untangling the spells so he could begin to disarm them one by one without alerting the old goat that anyone was onto his plots. ‘This one is covered in so many spells and wards; I’m bloody shocked we could even pick the thing up all those years ago.’

‘We weren’t looking for anything like this back then and we were a bit distracted were we not?’ 

‘Don’t get huffy at me,’ Harry replied as he lifted the second layer of spells from the orb and began dismantling the third and final layer now that they were all untangled. ‘I got enough of that when I married.’

‘I can’t imagine Monty huffing at anyone,’ Neville said. 

‘You spent more time at my house than your own in the last few years Nev, so I know that’s a lie,’ Harry said as he slid the orb into the bag, ignoring the pang of sorrow at the thought of his husband—long dead now. ‘Alright, I’m done and ready to head up.’

‘About fucking time,’ Neville said. ‘Still want to go to the bank next?’

‘We should,’ Harry said as he made his way out of the room and down the corridor. ‘We’re going to need a base of operations, and we can’t risk leaving school too often after this. Gringotts is going to be our best bet at getting a place in Hogsmeade, at least without attracting the attention of the rest of the world.’

‘You can claim your lordships now,’ Neville said. ‘Like we planned, I looked in on Mum and Dad when I went to visit for winter break. We were right, the bond is draining Mum. Dad is already gone, but there is a chance a really good one, that if we stop the drain, she could survive if we can do it soon.’

‘Then St. Mungos will be our next stop after the bank,’ Harry replied as he exited the elevator without any trouble, keeping his cloak around him now that he was passing the occasional ministry lackey. There weren’t many around this late at night, but it still paid to be cautious.

‘Harry, when I do this, it’s going to make noise,’ Neville said, but it didn’t sound like he was arguing.

‘Fuck that Nev,’ Harry replied, barely holding back a snort. ‘She’s your mum, I don’t care if you make all the noise in the world to save her. We’ll take her and Sirius and get out of Britain. We’ll adjust our plans if we have to.’

‘It might take a lot of adjustment Harry,’ Neville said drily. ‘You know I wouldn’t be against letting the whole damned country burn, but…’

‘Promise to keep,’ Harry sighed as he finally made his way out of the ministry building. ‘We’ll keep our promises, the vows we made to fix the mess that Dumbledore and his ilk made to magic but we aren’t going to do it at the expense of your mum. If we’re going to sacrifice people, then we can sacrifice people that we don’t like.’

‘Really, like who?’

“Bellatrix, for one,” Harry said, coming up to Neville and shrugging off his cloak. “I’ll even let you do the sacrificing if you want.”

“Thanks,” Neville said. “You’re all heart.”

“What can I say, I’m a giver.” Harry handed over the bag with the prophecy orbs. “You ready to go?”

“What the hell are we going to do with these things while we traipse all over London?” Neville ran his free hand through his hair. “Also, I do not like being fifteen again, I want that noted.”

“It’s noted,” Harry said, amused. “I can’t say I disagree; at least you have some sort of build, though. I look like I could turn sideways and disappear.”

“I don’t think so,” Neville said as he narrowed his eyes. “Your hair makes that impossible. Now, these…”

“Thestrals?” Harry smiled at Neville’s antics. No one that currently knew him would believe how much he’d changed after the war…how much they’d both changed. “They should be fine making their way back to Hogwarts on their own I imagine. I never did ask how they got back the first time around.”

“You never asked much of anything back then,” Neville grumbled, pulling his cloak around him and the bag with the prophecies in it. “Why did I have to wait out here with them then, if they were fine on their own?”

“Well, I still needed someone out here to keep an eye out,” Harry said with a shrug. “And I thought you could use the company.”

“Harry,” Neville began as they set off through the streets once Harry had folded his invisibility cloak away.

“You were already cold Nev, no sense leaving you all alone too,” Harry said, ignoring the glance he got from his friend. There were things even they didn’t discuss about the war.

“Fine. Thanks, I suppose,” Neville said, reaching over and gripping Harry’s shoulder for a moment before falling back into step beside him. “So how are we going to get through Diagon without being seen by either side?”

“The cloak will get us as far as the bank entrance, perhaps even up to the tellers. They’ll know we’re there, but they won’t do anything about it unless we try to steal something or go down to the vaults. I hope I can get a message to Granick and slip past any overly watchful eyes. If not, we’ll deal with the fallout,” Harry said, grinning when Neville sighed.

“I don’t really want to snuggle in next to you while we traverse Diagon,” Neville said, arching a brow at Harry before turning back as they continued to weave their way through the foot traffic on the way to the Leaky.

“Huh,” Harry said, bumping his shoulder into Neville’s. “I didn’t know you had it in you at this age.”

“What?” He grumbled, not looking at Harry.

“You managed the perfect disdainful Snape brow.”

“No,” Neville disagreed immediately as they slipped into an alley near the Leaky. “I used the Longbottom look of superiority, Snape only wished he had as much class as a Longbottom. You should recognize it, I had to use it on Malfoy often enough in the ministry.”

Harry squinted his eyes at Neville, tilting his head. “Maybe its these round chipmunk cheeks you’re sporting now. You didn’t do many looks like that at this age, not that I remember any way.”

“You didn’t pay attention to anything that wasn’t smack dab in front of your face Harry.”

“You don’t have to sound like that,” Harry said a bit petulantly, shaking his cloak out.

“You never heard of a decent fucking question at this time,” Neville muttered, moving in until they were standing hip to shoulder and under the cloak. “So many opportunities lost.”

“Victim blaming,” Harry said mulishly before taking his wand out and spelling them silent as they began to make their way out of the alley and carefully on their way to the Leaky once more. No need to give themselves away if they continued their conversation.

“We were all victims,” Neville replied in a whisper, and then he sighed. “I don’t blame you, Harry, I wish a lot of things had been different, but none of it was your fault. This time we can change it, save them.”

“Well, save some of them,” Harry said, nudging Neville with his elbow. “Kill some of the others too.”

“Balance,” Neville replied, sounding pompous before he chuckled quietly. “We’ll do what we have to, save who we can, and uphold the vows we made to come back. It will all be different, but-”

“It’ll be worth it.”

“Yes,” Neville agreed as they came to the pub door. “Still going to be a pain in the arse to hold my wand back until the right time for some of them though.”

“We’ll manage,” Harry replied blithely as a patron opened the door, and they managed to slip inside before it closed. With a deftness learned in war and under battle conditions, they made their way to the brick wall in the back of the pub without anyone noticing them. “And if we slip up occasionally, so be it.”

“I’m beginning to think you don’t give a fuck,” Neville said, turning from Harry and lifting the cloak just enough to keep an eye out.

“Are you telling me you do?” Harry tapped the sequence and stepped back, slipping his arm under the cloak again.

“Can’t say that I do.”

“My give a fuck was dying before the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, Nev. It was dead, and the ashes salted when I stood over the graves of my family for the second time,” Harry said; the sorrow in his voice was undercut with the steel of his fury.

Neville bumped his shoulder against Harry’s. “Yes, that sounds about right.”

They weaved through the late night early morning traffic of Diagon Alley and made their way up the bank steps. Pausing at the door, Harry looked around, and with a flick of his wand, he checked for anyone monitoring the entrance. He’d kept an eye out while they’d made their way through the alley and marked a few individuals, but only one had really stood out.

“Across the way, in front of the bakery. Do you recognize her?”

“Eunice Walters,” Neville responded after a moment’s inspection, his vision better and his knowledge of the individuals in this time period as well. “She’ll recognize us both.”

“Suggestions?”

“Take her down, but we don’t know what their actual protocol is,” Neville mused. “It could get messy, if she gets word back.”

Harry looked thoughtfully around the alley from the side of the steps. He knew, despite the cloak, that they’d already attracted the attention of the bank guards, but he knew they wouldn’t do anything unless and until they entered the bank.

“I’d rather not deal with Dumbledore and the order until we have your mother and Sirius under protection. Everyone else will be able to have some ability to fight back once we get them out from under his influence, but-,” Harry said slowly as he considered the options.

“I agree.” Neville didn’t hesitate; he took his wand and cast the spell he’d perfected with the help of Hermione and Luna just a couple years before they’d come back in time. It wouldn’t last more than a couple of minutes, but it would be enough time to do what was needed.

“I hate this spell. It prickles,” Harry complained as he slipped from the cloak, folding it over his arm and following Neville down the steps towards the still-unaware witch.

“Shut it and hurry up, this spell doesn’t last long enough for you to complain about,” Neville said over his shoulder, circling wide around the witch to come up behind her position between the storefront and the open cart stall.

Harry moved to the opposite side biting his tongue on his reply; even knowing that they couldn’t be heard through the spell, there was no reason to throw Neville off while they needed to coordinate.

“What?” Eunice managed a short exclamation before Harry had her silenced and knocked out at the back of the alley. He dropped a disillusionment charm over her, both for her protection and to keep her from being found too quickly. 

“Done?” Neville came up behind him, speaking as the spell they were under began to dissipate.

“Yeah, back under the cloak,” Harry said, pulling it out. “We’ll have to be quiet this time; I’ll need to try and talk to the guards so we can get into the bank unseen by anyone else that we might have missed.”

“I’m not the one who has to narrate their every movement,” Neville said dryly, getting into position at Harry’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Smart arse,” Harry grumbled before going silent and heading out of the alley. He kept an eye out to make sure they hadn’t been noticed, but no one had raised the alarm. Either she didn’t have a partner, or they were unaware of her disappearance.

Harry and Neville sidled up the steps in an awkward shuffle they’d perfected during their second war together. They avoided the occasional witch or wizard that came their way until they came to the entrance of the bank.

Harry scanned the area to ensure they were truly alone before he got the guard’s attention, “I seek sanctuary for an ancient and noble house from the horde. I seek to reveal secrets to fill their coffers in payment.”

“And your companion?” The reply was formal and harsh, crackling with disdain.

“I seek sanctuary for an ancient and noble house from the horde. I seek to reveal secrets to fill their coffers in payment,” Neville repeated, his words soft but firm.

“You come to the horde with faces covered and identity unknown to ask for sanctuary.”

Harry turned towards the voice that came from the shadowy alcove near the entrance. “We hide from those who would keep us from our inheritance, we do not hide from the horde.”

“Follow then,” Granik ordered, turning his back on them and strolling into the bank. “We’ll see if there is any truth to a wizard’s words.”

Harry and Neville exchanged a look under the cloak but hurried after the dverger. Harry noticed the guards closing in behind them. He felt the tension settle into Neville as they fell into a familiar pattern, wands already in hand as they walked silently behind Granik.

“This had better work out Harry.”

“Trust me.”

“I do,” Neville said, but Harry noticed the knuckles of his hand bled white around his wand. Neville drew in a breath and seemed to force himself to relax. “Your plans just have a way of exploding half the time.”

“The dverger have a better track record for trust than the wizarding world,” Harry replied and left it at that.

Neville hummed in what could have been agreement, finally tucking his wand away. Harry noticed he didn’t secure it in the holster, but the fact that Neville had put the wand away was enough of a victory for Harry. Entering Granik’s office with wands out wouldn’t go over well.

Granik came to a black door with a nameplate with his name etched in runes. “Enter and speak no lies.”

They entered the office and immediately shed the cloak after the door was shut. Harry folded and tucked it away in one of the inner pockets of his robe before turning and bowing to Granik. He kept the bow just low enough to show respect without being subservient and silently thanked the lessons Monty had given him when they’d started dating soon after his relationship with Ginny had fallen apart. The lessons had been for the myriad of ministry functions he’d been forced to attend as a war hero, but they’d been invaluable. Neville bowed from next to Harry, his form smoother from a lifetime of drills that made this etiquette second nature. 

Granik was staring at the two of them when they stood back up, his face expressionless. Harry had always found the dverger challenging to read and Granick even more than most, but he saw the slightest tick next to his eye that betrayed the dverger’s surprise.

“Hmph,” Granik sniffed. He tilted his head and eyed them as if they were bugs pinned to a board. “Interesting, very interesting.” He walked around his desk and sat, leaning forward. He set his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “Take a seat, little wizards.”

“Thank you, Master Dverger,” Harry said, settling into his seat, silently cursing his skinny frame. He’d pulled the bag of prophecy orbs out and set them in his lap. 

“Sanctuary has been requested. We’ll clear that matter up first before we move onto other business.” Granik waved at both of the guards that had followed them in. “Watch the hall.” One of them slipped out, the door falling shut with a nearly silent thud after them. “Now, let’s talk about your request.” Granik leaned back in his chair and pulled open a drawer in the desk. He set parchment and a stoppered bottle of blue ink that swirled silver in the light. 

Harry looked at Neville, who just raised his brow and nodded toward Granik. “This is your show; I’ll follow your lead, General.”

“We appeal for sanctuary from the horde for the houses of Longbottom and Potter,” Harry took a deep breath steadying himself. “For the most ancient houses of Brocéliande and Astolat. That is the first secret we reveal to the horde. We seek shields from our enemies and swords for those that get past those shields until such time that our swords have been sharpened and our own shields forged.”

“Brocéliande and Astolat are dead and gone. Those houses have fallen long ago, their enemies grinding the bones to dust,” Granik said, but he leaned forward, interest in his eyes. “You reveal much should this be true little wizards.”

“We speak no lies,” Harry said, meeting Granik’s eyes without flinching. Even if the dverger went against his own code and attempted legilimency on him, Harry’s shields would keep him out long enough for Neville to act.

“Proof is in the blood,” Granik replied, pressing a rune on his desk without taking his eyes off Harry.

“I would expect nothing less,” Harry said, nodding in agreement, sitting back again.

“Should your claim turn out to be true, then sanctuary can be granted with a few caveats.” Granik looked down at the parchment on his desk, tapping it a few times with a clawed finger. “I know who you are.” He looked back up at Harry. “The horde has managed to stay out of the mess going on out there. If sanctuary is granted will shield you in the bank here and give you protection outside of our walls, but we won’t arm guards against Tom Riddle or his followers without cause. We have our own restrictions.”

“We understand,” Neville spoke up, rubbing his chin. Harry hid a smile at the frown on his friend’s face when Neville noticed the lack of a beard. “If all your sanctuary gives us is a shield, then that will be more than enough to give us the time to sharpen our blades and plan.”

“Hmm.”

The door swung open, and a thin dverger hurried in. Her purple silk robe glimmered with protective wards as it swirled around her under an overlay of silver chainmail, delicate enough to be thought purely decorative by an inexperienced eye. Still, Harry knew better after his experience during his second war.

“Lady Cres.” Granik smiled at her, gesturing to the chair that appeared beside his. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Your call insinuated that it was urgent and that it would be worth my time,” Lady Cres snapped, gathering her skirts and sitting primly in the chair before turning her piercing gaze on the two boys. “Now, what was so important to pull me away from the library.”

“Lineage testing.”

“Lineage testing.” She turned her head and stared at Granik. “Have you lost the use of your hands?”

“No.”

“Is your magic unstable?”

“No,” Granik sighed, but before he could say anything else, Lady Cres spoke again.

“Are you perhaps going senile? Did you forget the incantation?”

“No Lady Cres.”

“Then why pray tell, did you drag me from my library to come and perform a test that any pebble with half an ounce of wit can do?” Lady Cres didn’t raise her voice, but the threat in it was apparent all the same.

“Because of the lineages claimed, milady,” Granik replied when it seemed she was done speaking. “I believe it needs expert handling.”

“Expert handling,” Lady Cres huffed and turned back to Harry and Neville, who were watching the exchange with interest. “So what lineages are you claiming? Gryffindor? Ravenclaw? We get a few of each every year, I don’t know why Granik feels the need for me to be here to test you, but I warn you against trying to falsify these tests.”

“No Lady Cres,” Harry said, shaking his head. “While I have some claim to the Gryffindor title through the Potter line, it’s what I have through my mother’s line that I’m here to claim. I’m here to claim the Brocéliande dukedom and the ring for the Potter Lordship.”

Lady Cres stared at him for a moment before blinking and turning her gaze to Neville, “And you?”

“The Dukedom of Astolat, as well as the ring for the regency of Longbottom Lordship, as is mine by right now that I’m fifteen,” Neville replied evenly.

Lady Cres turned back to Granik, “This might be worth my time after all.”

“They’ve asked for sanctuary from the horde.”

“Then we should proceed.” She stood, reaching into the oversized sleeves of her robes and pulling out a long tube, which she set on the desk. “Get your athame Granik and we’ll begin.”

“Yes, Lady.” Granik handed over the athame he’d already had out.

“Come here,” Lady Cres said, gesturing Harry forward. “One cut and three drops. No more and no less. Do I need to heal it for you or are you capable?” She squinted her eyes at him.

“I can heal the cut,” Harry said, bemused, standing and taking the athame in his right hand to slice into the meat of his palm. He held his hand over the parchment allowing three drops to hit before pulling back. Harry set the athame back into Lady Cres’ waiting hand and drew his wand to heal the cut before he stepped back to make room for Neville. “Your turn old man.”

“Ta,” Neville said, heaving himself up from his chair and taking Harry’s spot. He repeated the process on a fresh piece of parchment. Neville pulled his wand out, and glaring at Harry, he cast a purifying charm on the athame before handing it back to Lady Cres. Then Neville healed the cut on his hand before securing his wand and retaking his seat.

“I wasn’t worried.” Harry had settled the bag of orbs on his lap once again and was smiling at the glare that Neville continued to send his way.

“Of course you weren’t,” Neville sighed and turned back to the dverger and the lineage parchments that were starting to glow.

“It seems that your assertions were true,” Granik said, looking up once the parchment had stopped glowing. “The dukedom’s of Brocéliande and Astolat have been resurrected.” He eyed the boys sitting in his office, and Harry wasn’t sure what the old dverger saw, but Granik grinned all sharp teeth and wicked humor. “Resurrected by the sons of prophecy if I’m not mistaken.”

“Boys who have the touch of our magic on them as well,” Lady Cres put in, her mouth pursed as she studied them. “Time magic.” She cocked her head to the side. “How far did you come?”

Harry exchanged a look with Neville. Neville shrugged, once again leaving the decision to Harry.

“We’ve come thirty years back give or take some months.” Harry shrugged. “We kind of stopped keeping track of time at the end there.”

“Lady Magic must have interceded for you to come back this far,” Lady Cres said, her brow furrowing as she tapped a clawed finger to her lip. “I won’t ask for more than can be said, but I will offer my library up to those that have become her knights.”

“Knights?” Granik sputtered, head swiveling between the boys and Lady Cres. “Surely not. Lady Magic hasn’t chosen knights in over a millennia.”

“Then she was overdue,” Lady Cres replied sharply. “Keep up, we are wizards to ignore what is staring us in the face.”

Granik glared at Harry and Neville for a moment, but Harry got the feeling it was only because Granik felt he couldn’t glare at Lady Cres. “Fine, fine.” Granik sighed, shoulders slumping for a split second before he steadied himself and pulled papers from drawers. “It looks like sanctuary will be offered in full, at least temporarily.” He looked over at Lady Cres, and at her nod, he continued. “With these new circumstances, we’ll have to take your case before the chieftain and go from there.”

“We’d prefer the matter of our circumstances didn’t get around too far,” Harry said with some hesitation. He’d thought coming to the dverger was their best option for the prophecy orbs and to get protection so they could get their feet under them and get Alice and Sirius out of the country. Now he was wondering if he’d made a mistake.

“No one outside this room and Ragnok will be aware of your exact circumstances unless you tell them. Which is why we’ve sent for Ragnok to come here,” Lady Cres said; she rolled up the lineage parchments and slid them each into their own scroll tube. “Temporary sanctuary will last until you leave the bank. You are going to need more assistance than that.”

Harry and Neville exchanged another look. This time Neville turned to the dverger, his jaw firm, and hands steady on the arms of his chair. “We need to disappear, and we need to take a few others with us.”

“You want to leave Britain?” Granik’s brows winged up. Harry decided that in this meeting, the dverger had shown more emotion than Harry had seen in the twenty years that he’d worked with Harry as his account manager.

“We need to make plans and put things in motion that we won’t be able to do here,” Neville replied. “Especially not at Hogwarts with Dumbledore looking over our shoulders.”

“No, that would not be ideal,” Lady Cres nodded in agreement. “That makes it all the more imperative that we take your case for sanctuary before Ragnok. If he grants it, that will give you the backing of the horde in your endeavours.”

“I thought that the horde wouldn’t interfere,” Harry said slowly; he felt he was missing something.

“We don’t.” The door opened, and a dverger of indeterminate age stalked in. This could be none other than Ragnok, and Harry marveled once again at how efficient dverger communication was. “Lady Cres.” He nodded to the Lady and then turned his attention to the wizards. “I was given to understand that something unusual was happening in my bank.”

“Lady Magic has chosen knights once more,” Lady Cres replied without preamble. “ Duke Brocéliande and Duke Astolat have been sent back thirty years by our magic with her blessing.”

“Brocéliande and Astolat?” Ragnok rubbed his beard, humming to himself. “Today is a day for revivals, it seems.” 

“Someone is going to notice us missing by now.”

“Probably,” Harry said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They won’t put us together right away though.”

“No, why would you be running around with me?” Neville snorted; he leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes briefly.

“It’ll be alright, Nev,” Harry said, leaning across the chairs to grasp Neville’s arm and squeeze it reassuringly. The orbs in the bag clinked gently when he shifted, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

“What other surprises have you brought into my bank?” 

“What do you know about prophecies?” Harry reached into the bag and pulled out one of the orbs. Carefully coating it with his magic, he let it rotate in the air, but he didn’t play it. “Three of these have some relation to me in one form or another. Then again, depending on how they are interpreted, they could be about Neville. While we’re sure that at least one of these prophecies are true-” He shrugged and slipped the orb back into the bag. “We don’t know which one it is or what an unbiased interpretation of it would be.”

“So you’re looking for a reader and a verifier?” Ragnok grinned. “That’s outside the sanctuary petition and will cost extra.”

“I expected nothing less,” Harry said with a grin of his own. “But if that will clear up some of this mess, then yes, that is what we’re looking for.”

Ragnok studied them in silence for a few minutes after that, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. He continued to stroke his black beard with a contemplative hand.

“Very well,” He said, nodding, clapping his hands together. “Sanctuary will be granted to Brocéliande and Astolat until their blades have sharpened.” He grinned, leaning forward. “At such a time, we’ll discuss whether they are worthy of becoming allies of the horde.” He turned, his red cape swirling behind him, the gold trim flashing in the light as he strode from the room.

“Well,” Granik started before drawing a breath and trying again. “The Chieftain has granted you full sanctuary and put you up as probationary allies.”

“This is why he’s survived so long,” Lady Cres replied, pulling a slim case from her sleeves, leaving Harry to wonder if she had a spell on them similar to Hermione’s bag. “He not only has the strength to take out the brainless idiots in the arena, but he can outmanevour the others in the council room before they even know the agenda.”

“You think-” Granik looked over at Harry and Neville before turning back to her. “Really?”

“At least he’s hedging his bets,” She replied enigmatically.

“I feel like we’re being used as political capital in some sort of chess game,” Harry said dryly to Neville.

“So nothing new then?” 

“At least I like the dverger and I’m pretty sure the chieftain doesn’t want me to die.”

“Not really a high bar there Harry,” Neville said. “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“I trust you.”