"Dog scent training" in the local woods continued. Though the "dog," brilliant at everything else, somehow didn't shine at this. Petunia Dursley covered for her boys in every way if they returned slightly late. Once even went to "training" herself. Naturally planning to then turn into a recently-opened café. She frankly pitied Sirius Black, caught in Marjorie Dursley's clutches. Though offense remained. What didn't he like about Privet that he ran away? That's what she wanted to learn.
Never managed talking to Black. Turned out they transported him like that, as a dog—easier. But her nephew promised to answer all her questions. Soon Petunia learned about the thrice-cursed newspaper. Even remembered throwing out that filth. After which she baked a double batch of signature cookies. Quietly slipping half to her nephew.
In a couple days it emerged the first show awaited Sirius in just a month. And not just anywhere—Birmingham. And before that passing qualification... almost a month.
Giving Black himself a wand the conspirators still feared. Plus didn't have a suitable one. So needed someone capable of backing up the mutt in the unfamiliar and dangerous Muggle world of professional dog breeders. Nobody from the company could handle this for one simple reason: school year. Professors could still escape school for an hour or two. But no more.
To Harry's considerable surprise, Aunt Marge poured oil on fire. Her stories about kidnapping champion show dogs—his hair stood on end. So he risked asking what she was after.
"What do you mean, what? Charlie must be safe! Can your wizards do that?"
Harry promised they'd definitely think of something. Sat down writing Malfoy. The candidacy of a mage capable of backing up Sirius Black and making sure nothing happened was taking shape as only one...
***
Morning sparring with Dudley—despite different weight categories finally starting bringing long-awaited results for Harry—was disrupted by a sudden strong knock at the window.
"Who's fooling around there?" Aunt Marge yelled from her room. "You'll install glass yourself if you break it!"
The boys meanwhile already flung open the window frames and hung out of it. Thankfully the first floor.
"Holy shit..." an amazed Dudley drawled. "Whose is this? I'm not untangling it! Or holding it either!"
On the narrow lawn a huge eagle owl thrashed and hissed with anger. Entwined in Aunt's evergreen periwinkle.
Harry, noticing the message attached to the bird's leg, assessed the mailman's mood. Glanced at the enormous talons and quickly burrowed into his trunk.
"Here they are! Hooray!" He pulled out a small package and happily waved it.
"What's that?"
"Owl treats. Delicacy! Somehow without them I don't really want to approach this sweet and kind birdie. At least have something to plug its maw with."
Dudley looked out once more and assessed the beak...
"Yeah, impressive. That's an eagle owl? Who's it even from?"
The eagle owl hooted something already from the windowsill where it climbed, finally untangling from stems. Comically rubbed one leg against the other and threw the message on the floor. After which, contemptuously looking at the boys who'd jumped up, flew away.
"Malfoy's," Harry finally shared. "Just as nasty and full of himself. Whatever, Hedwig will get more."
"You have two owls?"
Harry didn't answer. He attentively read Draco's message.
"What good is the pale-haired ponce writing you?"
Harry raised puzzled eyes to his cousin.
"Like you know him so well."
"Easy to understand from your letters who Malfoy is."
"But you said it so precisely," Harry smiled, "like you really study with us."
"Yeah right, thanks but no thanks! I'll survive without your Hogwarts and its horrors. I'd rather watch on telly or listen to you. And if they come at me, we'll get them on the approaches... that!" He slapped his pocket.
"That same little pistol in there?" Harry squinted. Something vaguely dawned in his head. But Dudley continued sharing such interesting things...
"You bet! Plus darts, here." The cousin carefully pulled back the ironed lining. "Mum says to take them whenever you appear. Just in case. Basically know if anything, parents also have stuff stocked. And Aunt. They and Mum, by the way, started competing at the club. For accuracy. Mum's leading so far."
"Awesome!" Harry didn't doubt Aunt Petunia's talents. But thoughts already flew further. "Right, our dormitory could use darts too. But not enough space... Then the common room!"
Harry already started calculating what from Gryffindor common room could go for transfiguring a set. Better two. And which spells to use.
The mood this morning was already upbeat. Now it has risen even higher. And Harry shared with his brother plans for harnessing the Malfoys to illegal activity exporting from native country their common temporarily-tailed friend. Immediately added the question of necessary control during shows from wizards' side. The latter Dudley, also having heard from Aunt, especially approved. And immediately started thinking aloud:
"So Draco writes Mother still believed... and they have tons of relatives in France? Even their own estate? That's excellent! Just need to arrange a meeting of both Blacks. But so nobody can tell anyone anything. What's that called with you?"
"Unbreakable Vow. But how best to do it?"
"Well... for example, Snape or Flitwick under Polyjuice meet Lady Black—I mean Malfoy—somewhere... Where do your witches often go? I mean, ladies... Witches or ladies?.."
"Doesn't matter," Harry waved his hand. "Clothing store."
"Yeah, for example. Meet there. Also give Polyjuice so nobody recognizes her. Then—grab and through any fireplace to Snape. And we go there. Main thing, agree on timing."
"You're so simple, Dad. First, you definitely shouldn't show yourself. Second... like she'll drink who-knows-what from who-knows-who's hands! She won't let a stranger near!"
"What about her husband?"
"Oh!.." Harry instantly imagined Snape's transformation into Malfoy. He liked the result. "Then simpler in some restaurants is pouring Polyjuice..."
"Let the adults decide for themselves. They know better."
Harry nodded, pulled out a notebook and started quickly scribbling in it.
***
Severus Snape peacefully had breakfast in his own kitchen with good coffee and bad press. Balancing the latter with fresh croissants. Enjoying what were apparently the last hours of freedom. Soon a package from Dumbledore should arrive. And then... Merlin willing, at least has time sleeping occasionally. The notebook warming in his inner pocket informed him rest was ending. The professor pulled it from his breast, opened and, summoning a quill, answered Harry's morning greeting.
Then watched line after line appearing on the page. Read. Snorted. Tried even hissing. But eventually choked when he saw the question whether he happened to have a couple hairs from unforgettable Lucius Malfoy's mane lying around.
"Harry, have you lost your mind?" the boys read.
"No, just the plan," Harry answered. And started quickly laying it out. Fearing Snape would axe at root the gorgeous—in both their opinions—idea of taking Narcissa Malfoy to a restaurant disguised as her husband.
Snape at first even went numb from such audacity. Not to mention writing something. Harry meanwhile scribbled so the notebook nearly smoked. The potioneer almost switched to Parseltongue despite not possessing this gift.
Eventually it emerged that yes, one blondish strand from the most provident of potioneers had indeed been lying around. Which caused both boys' victory cry and enthusiastic interjections toward the professor. Which however didn't reflect on paper.
When Flitwick joined Snape—who actually finished off the poor guy into agreeing—the plan was developed. All details settled from both sides. And Harry sat down writing Draco Malfoy.
***
The young aristocrat was nearly knocked off his broom by unforgettable Hedwig. Who'd been well-fed at home. He promised that after completing would get more tasty food. And explained what "gallop three crosses" now meant for owls. The bird got it and shot off—God grant every hawk such speed.
Unfolding and reading the short note, Draco heartily swore. Mentioning at once Mordred's undergarments and all Black Lake inhabitants. Attributing to them a series of unnatural interconnections. And looked around in horror. But immediately sighed with relief. Nobody heard. Then he shook his fist at his broom. Apparently imagining Potter in its place. Promised it "remembering all this." And frowning, headed to the house.
"Done flying already?" Lady Malfoy was surprised. "Something happen?"
Usually her son's flights took no less than a couple hours. Today hadn't even passed half an hour.
Draco made a bored face. Narcissa understood she'd now be asked for something... strange and probably not cheap.
How surprised she was when her son suggested merely going for a new robe to Twilfitt and Tatting's! She was ready to visit her favorite shop this very second. But here her son somehow dug in his heels. Demanding going in exactly one hour. She even touched his forehead and checked the ring-amulet. No, everything was fine.
Ah, she guessed. Someone probably arranged a meeting! Interesting! Excellent! Hope it's still Parkinson or, better yet, Greengrass... younger or older? Though I'll see for myself soon!
And Lady Malfoy quickly proceeded to her room. At the meeting with a candidate for daughter-in-law she must look absolutely flawless!
***
In the store Draco started trying different fabrics. Nearly driving his mother into stupor. Until now she'd been sure her son was interested in anything but outfits! No, he'd been taught to watch himself long ago. But she'd always handled the child's clothing choice herself. Though curiosity still gnawed at the lady about a completely different matter. Namely, who would now enter this door...
When Narcissa saw her own husband bursting into the store like a robber and immediately dragging her into the fitting room, she only gaped. Lucius didn't fail to take advantage. Unexpectedly professionally poured something from a dark green vial into her. Made such a beastly face she automatically swallowed. Her husband immediately grabbed her by the arm and hauled toward another exit. After ten seconds of active foot-shuffling, Narcissa realized this wasn't Lucius at all! But—oh Merlin!—Draco, her Draco, followed them! The boy decided to save his mother!
She already wanted to yell for him to call reinforcements. But her voice didn't obey. They jumped into some room. Vaguely familiar. But everything happened so fast! Suddenly her son rushed to them. But instead of grabbing the mother, bent her head. Helping the type pretending to be Lucius stuff her into the fireplace!
A cold green flame flared. As powerful as her angry yell. And she, firmly held by the fake husband, tumbled out somewhere in a completely unfamiliar place resembling an old library. Behind blazed again. The lady wanted to turn. But was already being politely but purposefully led further into half-darkness. It seemed like a sitting room.
The flashing thought about how many galleons they'd demand for her caused not so much fear as curiosity. Serious enemies—such that they thirsted for her blood—Narcissa didn't have. Amulets are all fine. Nobody tried removing them. Not so simple either—some were family. Black ones. By the way... didn't even heat up! So nothing threatened her?
Excellent. Lucius would be informed soon. Remembering her son's behavior, Lady Malfoy was ready either killing someone or fainting. But for starters worth at least looking around. Crossing another threshold, Narcissa raised her eyes. Opposite stood her long-mourned cousin. Former Azkaban prisoner. Already half a year on the wanted list.
"Sirius!" she squeaked. Legs buckled. But whoever pretended to be Lucius carefully seated her in an old, seen-better-days armchair.
"Andromeda?" her cousin greeted in a strangled voice.
"What?! What Dromeda am I to you?" Narcissa was at that age when being compared to either older sister didn't appeal at all. And didn't care she'd seemingly been kidnapped. "Wipe your eyes already! Or does vision deteriorate so badly in Azkaban?"
Before she finished the phrase, pseudo-Lucius made a short movement. New nastiness appeared in her mouth. She already wanted to spit it straight at him. But he somehow cunningly ran down her throat. Making her swallow. The liquid tasted like an antidote.
"Narci... Cousin..."
"What was that?" she asked the apparent potioneer sternly.
And by the way, it seemed like starting to guess what infection hid under her husband's guise. Oh, she'd give it to her husband when she got home to scatter his hair everywhere! And she'd deal with Draco! Thin ring-laden fingers clenched into fists until knuckles whitened. Perfectly manicured nails dug into soft palms...
And here it finally hit her.
"My Merlin, Sirius, it really is you," she jumped to her cousin. "Alive! How?! Where? Why didn't you let us know?"
"Narci... You've become even more beautiful, little sister." Black smiled stupidly. Squeezing her hand and not taking eyes from the dear face. Well fine, second-cousin. But exactly with her he'd perhaps gotten along best since childhood... Childhood...
"Sirius," she ran her palm down his cheek.
"This is all very touching," not-Lucius intruded on the heartwarming moment, "but I'd ask Lady Malfoy now—" he bowed politely "—and everyone else to give an Unbreakable Vow that everything heard and happened with them here and today will never be told, written or in any other way transmitted to third parties. You understand the reason." He nodded at Black.
"I'm ready!" Draco exclaimed. Rolling out from somewhere behind mother's back. Immediately extended his hand to "his father."
Narcissa gasped.
"This isn't your father," she tried holding her son.
"I know, Mum. Can definitely trust him," he answered calmly and started speaking the vow's words...
"Oh you... parasite!"
But no more words came. Aunt Walburga allowed herself that. But Narcissa always considered herself above such. True, today she regretted it for the first time. But really, not one vase to properly crack a certain blond head with... two blond heads!
"If the lady doesn't mind, I'll first give you a vow myself," the kidnapper surprised her again.
Reasonable, Narcissa thought. Nodded approvingly and extended her hand.
And Draco sealed it. When did he learn?!
Eventually she only had to repeat the same.
***
After giving the vow, Lady Malfoy first demanded her "husband" return his real face. Attentively watched him drink an antidote to Polyjuice.
"Snape," she narrowed her eyes. "Just as I supposed."
"The lady's foresight and composure inspire my respect," he bowed.
Narcissa snorted. No way she'd be curtsying before a former classmate. A younger year at that.
"I especially felt much respect when you stuffed me in the fireplace. Thank Merlin you had brains at least not dragging to the Leaky Cauldron. Otherwise I'd have killed you right here. Though... I understand the reasons. But what business do YOU have suddenly dealing with the Blacks?"
"At my request, Lady Malfoy," a black-haired boy in glasses rose from the corner armchair. And even if his fringe hid the well-known scar, confusing him with anyone was impossible.
"Harry Potter?.."
"I apologize, my lady, that it happened this way. But you already understood everything..."
"Not quite. I'd understand if Sirius had been sheltered in my older sister's house. But—you?"
"I'm Harry's godfather, Narci," Sirius finally inserted his signature phrase.
"Godfather?! But that means..." The lady confusedly surveyed those present. "Can't be... Sirius! Snape! What's even happening here?! Just don't lie that we give life in Azkaban for killing nobodies! Such a regime they didn't let any of us in. Poor Walburga couldn't break through despite having no money! And at first every week, every month she tried. While... while she was alive. Oh Merlin..."
Sirius's handsome face twisted with pain.
"Mum?.. To me?.. Narci, is this true?"
"Idiot!" Lady Black's eyes flashed. But immediately collected herself. Ladies don't cry publicly. Though even more she wanted to strangle this moron. Brought the whole family to this...
"More sedative?" Snape asked, defusing the situation slightly. Got two grateful looks. "Maybe just leave you alone? Hope an hour's enough?"
"Where are we?"
"Doesn't matter, little sister... Something else matters. I need your help."
"Well now! The proud and insolent cousin finally asks me for something. Like I still haven't guessed why I was dragged here," Narcissa hissed evilly. Pressed her palms to her cheeks like holding back emotions. "Don't pay attention, Sirius. I'll either be a bitch or cry now."
"Be whatever you want, Narci. Merlin, I'm so glad to see you. Any..." "You know you're the last of the living Blacks?"
"What?! My Merlin, and Reg too? Can't be. Narci-i..."
"Mordred, Sirius, half a year passed... and you didn't even ask?!"
"I practically lived in animagus form... though that's no excuse," Sirius drooped.
They didn't notice remaining alone in the room. The other conspirators under Snape's careful leadership preferred kitchen and tea to the Blacks' passions and sufferings. Though apparently it struck everyone. Because even Potter and Malfoy junior stayed silent.
***
Narcissa flew into the kitchen a small but menacing hurricane.
"Snape, I can't do this anymore. Hope at least you can explain everything clearly and precisely? And why not invite my husband?"
"Will he give the vow?"
"I guarantee it," Narcissa snorted. "I'm hardly empty space for him."
"Well, if the lady insists... Tea? Potter, take care of it."
Draco watched stunned as Potter stood and started managing the professor's kitchen. Then jumped up helping. Main thing, not staying at one table with a thoughtful Mother...
***
Lucius Malfoy, arriving at the long-familiar address, looked at wife and son with surprise. Meeting them here he hadn't expected at all. Snape without delay demanded the vow. His wife nodded. Then they started bringing him up to speed.
While the men talked and Draco listened attentively, having settled next to them, Lady Malfoy decided to get to know Harry better. She wasn't disappointed. The boy turned out very, very interesting. When they discussed his godfather, their thoughts often even converged. Which greatly surprised Harry.
"You're also Black through your grandmother!" Narcissa remembered.
"Ah, I didn't finish reading," he confessed. "Dorea Black, seems like?"
"So you still managed. You're doing well studying your genealogy, Harry. Very important—knowing your roots," she praised the teenager. Immediately switched to a completely businesslike tone. "What did you plan regarding Sirius?"
"While his innocence isn't confirmed and he's wanted, showing himself in human form isn't worth it. Dementors can't be fooled with human Polyjuice. And since he's an animagus, he disguised himself. Professor Snape only helped change the breed. Some people still know about his second form." He ran fingers below his face, depicting beard-stroking. "Also Polyjuice."
Narcissa nodded, making big eyes and an important conclusion. Really thought up not badly. Especially hiding Black with Muggles. But staying in animagus form long isn't possible?
Harry answered quite evasively. So she guessed there was another trick. And he continued:
"In early summer he'll go to Europe as a dog with my aunt, an English bulldog breeder. There, after two or three dog shows, he'll have to run away... if of course he doesn't crave getting puppies. That's when he'd need help. And after—placing in a good hospital. But none of us can leave Hogwarts. Especially during exams. I'm completely non-travel. Plus they constantly control me. Does Lady Malfoy understand?"
"Oh yes," Narcissa nodded sympathetically. "Only what did you mean by puppies?"
"That's not even the point. Recently Aunt Marge registered him for a show in just a month! And there..."
Narcissa listened to the abbreviated story about all sorts of horrors happening at dog shows. She was shocked. Then Harry vividly described how some dogs get taken for breeding. Finally explained what exactly threatened his godfather. Causing her nervous giggle. In her godfather's eyes—unfeigned horror. Then as if casually noted the show was organized under Her Majesty's aegis...
Sirius mutely went silent in depression.
"The Queen?! Herself?"
"Of course! Her favorite breed—Welsh Corgi Pembroke. They're so cute. Want to see?"
Having admired photos of the queen with her "little foxes" in American Time and native Daily Mirror and Times (thanks to Aunt Petunia for the collection), Lady Malfoy decided clarifying:
"So the show will have Muggle high society?"
"Not all of course. But many representatives—from start to finish. And when the queen arrives, then yes, of course, everyone. Her Majesty, by the way, doesn't just keep but also breeds Corgis..."
"Where did you say your aunt lives?"
***
"That's it, everyone," Lord Malfoy decided he'd figured out the general picture and stood. "I won't allow my wife and son into this dubious business. Narci, dear, maybe take Draco home?"
Malfoy junior kicked back with every means. But parents repeated one thing: he was heir. He was only. So risking him was absolutely out of the question. And here it struck him:
"What about Potter then? Saying he's not the only heir?"
The adults froze for a moment. Narcissa, despite being categorically against leaving, threw a murderous look at her husband. Grabbed her son's hand. A second later a greenish cloud of their trace settled in the fireplace.
"I'll be right back," Lucius headed to the fireplace.
He guessed what delay could mean for him. His wife in such a state he'd perhaps never seen before. Not worth risking.
***
And he was absolutely right. Immediately upon arriving home, Lady Malfoy started telling exactly how she'd ended up where her husband found her. Draco quieted down and applied all efforts to dissolving in the darkest corner. Then simply slipped from the room entirely.
Narcissa didn't hold her son back. Didn't let Lucius either—wouldn't go anywhere. Now something else was important. She gave her husband instructions on what he must learn at any cost... In particular, where Snape got his hair and how much remained! And Andromeda Black's hair! And what's needed to obtain them. And what relationship connects him and Potter, whom the Slytherin head of house seemingly sincerely hated?..
So Lucius Malfoy returned quite soon but quite puzzled. First they, with Snape and Harry, discussed everything again about Black's safety. Who also proposed one suggestion. But alas, unfeasible.
After long talks and explanations, Snape sent Harry home with the bulldog. And Lucius Malfoy still sat like he'd taken root in the owner's favorite armchair. Snape already pondered how to more precisely construct the phrase "dear guests, haven't the hosts bored you?"—other hints his guest ignored, imitating selective hearing.
Lucius Malfoy... almost suffered. Imposing wasn't in his rules. But getting Snape talking was necessary. But how? Narcissa wouldn't kill him of course. But would fray his nerves if he had nothing to report. Won't seem like little. Finally Thought came to him.
After all, it was the evening of a hard day. Have the right, he decided.
"After such events one wants to relax, doesn't one? Cassie!" Malfoy snapped fingers and half-whispered something to the house-elf.
Seconds later the elf appeared back with a basket full of... wine bottles.
"Milord could've immediately said he wanted to drink," Snape waved his wand opening his own bar. Levitated to the table a couple glasses and an almost-full bottle of Glenmorangie.
"Oh," Malfoy smirked. "See you know your way around strong drinks. Treat from the potioneer gentleman?"
"Treat from Lord Malfoy?" The potioneer didn't stay indebted.
The men looked at each other assessingly.
"Cocktail?.."
***
Soon Lucius learned one of his admirers cut a hair strand back at school. And Snape didn't brew a particularly nightmarish love potion where "future spouses'" hairs needed mixing. But wouldn't crack the girl's name. Bastard. And now he learned he was apparently indebted to him. He would have to give it back. But... for a good person, especially a potioneer—not sorry! His head felt light and pleasant. And had they really drunk much?
Still these Muggles with their recipes weren't bad. What was it... "Blood and Sand," it seems like? But they have trouble with names. Right, Severus? Huh? Call me by my first name, friend. We now have much in common. We have one goal! Wait, you say more? Two or three? F-four? Wait, where are you from? Destroying the Lord—one. Black the opposite... two. Potter? What about him? Ah, so he'd be friends with Draco. Yeah that's useful. No, not about Azkaban, don't, I'm sobering up. More?.. Cassie, cherry juice and ice... What do you mean whisky's running out? Bring it. Yeah, s-same kind.
Severus, you know, I always resp-pected you... And you?
Really? And you me... yeah. I'm doing well. I know.
Lucius. Call me Lucius, Sev. Oh, you know, recently my German colleagues told me about such an amusing custom...
***
Around midnight Narcissa Malfoy decided she'd waited for her husband enough. She approached the fireplace. Threw a pinch of Floo powder and headed straight to Severus Snape.
Seeing the men standing in an embrace, she nearly lost speech. And when her own husband loudly smacked the potioneer on the cheek, and he in response smeared him with lips somewhere near the ear...
"Lucius! Snape! Deign to explain!"
Dumbfounded by her appearance, the men released each other. But then they swung back. Hugged again and stared at her with drunkenly gleaming eyes. Finally her husband deigned speaking.
"It's s-such a G-German custom... bro... bru... der. Schaft."
"To call each other by first names, my lady..."
And Snape's not half as drunk as Lucius... No, definitely can't leave them alone anymore, Narcissa decided. But here one thought came to her. She smiled predatorily.
The men shuddered and tensed.
"I've known my husband for a long time," she started from afar in such a suspiciously sweet voice the drunkenness started leaving both newly-minted "brothers." "And quite closely, imagine..."
Irony and light sarcasm overflowed every sound. Severus admiringly stared at Lady Malfoy.
"He's never been noticed with his own sex by anyone ever. As for you, Mr. Snape... Don't you dare corrupt my husband. Otherwise, you know, small personal secrets sometimes spread so quickly..."
"N-not quite understood, m-milady?"
Ah no, just holds himself better, Narcissa understood. Otherwise would already be tearing and throwing, that's for sure.
"After such a picture I caught, rumors could go that you're interested in men!"
"What?.."
"Your interest in my husband I consider completely excessive!"
"Why?" Snape still didn't get it. The lady finally calmed down. Drunk and barely thinking. "We discussed m-many useful things."
"Yes, dear, I learned as you asked, where the ha..."
"Because Lucius isn't gay!" she blurted to somehow stop her husband. Finally cast sobering on both men.
"Huh?" Her husband for some reason turned to the mirror.
Narcissa groaned internally. Nevertheless holding the pause. The spell must work.
The drunkenness gradually evaporated. Finally hit Lucius... He doubled over laughing. Having laughed, enlightened his friend. Snape first blushed, then paled. Obviously holding back unprintable expressions. Finally answered:
"Got your revenge, exactly."
And tiredly sank into the armchair.
Narcissa proudly smirked. Took her husband by the arm. The Malfoys finally departed. Leaving the house's owner in deep disarray.
Praise Merlin, Dumbledore sent nothing today, Severus thought. Apparently I couldn't find all the ingredients. I urgently needed to switch to at least something positive. Ah yes, the spent hair he'd still replenished today...
***
The next morning brought an owl from Dumbledore. Light headache. Filius Flitwick. And naturally Potter with Black. Harry immediately burrowed into books. His godfather, requesting permission, followed his example. Both professors retired to the kitchen. Severus was bursting...
"Imagine, labeling me gay! What for? For her own husband—me, a potioneer!—cunningly trying to get me drunk?! And he almost succeeded!"
"O women, thy name is treachery,*" Flitwick summed up. Obviously quoting someone. "Won't label you. Otherwise you can recall whose initiative it was exactly. And yes, I know this custom. Quite ancient. Started not from Muggles at all but from your brother potioneer."
Harry hid, hoping to hear something else. And learned. His teachers discussed the potion Snape had to prepare for the headmaster. And this was terribly unpleasant. No, simply disgusting. Imperio analogue! Wonder for whom? Plus Snape urgently wanted to develop an antidote. Before giving the headmaster the main potion. Yes, wise. But so much work! What if he didn't manage?
And here Harry remembered potions weren't scary for him exactly.
"What if my blood's immune, can it cure you? Or at least back you up? What if immunity transfers?"
"Harry, do you even understand what you're suggesting?"
"Really, worth trying," the half-goblin supported the boy. "Severus, need comparing for contraindications..."
"Can half-goblins have mage blood transfused?" generous Potter immediately asked.
"Can't," Flitwick answered. Looking at his ward's disappointed face, explained: "Don't threaten me. Goblins are immune to almost all magical potions."
"Ah, great," Harry smiled and turned to Snape. "By the way, you and I have the same blood type and Rh factor! I definitely remember!"
When did he manage peeking? Did Smethwyck himself give the nosy patient? Possibly. Harry then literally had us all twisted around his finger, Severus remembered.
Irrepressible Potter couldn't stop.
"Let's call Smethwyck? I think simply drinking isn't an option. A stomach might destroy everything, right? Wonder if they learned transfusing blood or better doing it at a Muggle hospital? Oh no, without Mr. Smethwyck I wouldn't want to."
"Potter!!!"
Harry blinked.
"You think I'll... agree to your suggestion?"
"Why not, Professor? After all, it's the simplest and most logical! No antidotes, no threat, not even blood type conflict!"
"Well yeah, if I survive the basilisk venom appearing in my system..."
"Along with Fawkes's tears!"
"Potter... this is probably still hereditary."
"You mean I'm more Dursley now?" Harry smiled.
Snape sighed heavily. The punching energy of the Dursleys—usually balanced and calm, but when they wanted something, completely impossible—was already quite familiar to him.
***
After lunch the kid appeared alone. Clearly not planning to postpone anything.
And Filius had warned him... Harry seemed long decided. So now for him, Snape, to decide. Inside a strange warm lump stirred. Here was another wanting to... protect him. Just a kid.
"Sir, you understand your safety is my safety!" Potter finished.
"Harry, you... we'd then become relatives from mages' viewpoint."
"So what?" the kid smirked. "Who will we tell? At St. Mungo's, sir?"
"No way, first I'll write Hippocrates..."
"Uh..."
"So, Potter..." Scolding the kid seemed completely useless. "And what time are we expected?"
"In an hour," the green-eyed rascal beamed. Pulled out another pack of chocolate cookies. About to say something else but suddenly hesitated.
"Harry, you want to ask something else?"
The kid drew breath and blurted:
"Sir, what will you be then—my older brother, uncle or... father?" His voice trembled slightly on the last word.
Snape looked questioningly.
"Well... uh, I already have an uncle," Potter delivered.
"Wish completing the set?"
The kid smiled and relaxed.
"Choose yourself, Harry. And don't forget the vow. Information about our blood kinship definitely isn't something anyone should know. And by the way, deciding now who's who of us isn't absolutely necessary. We'll live—we'll see, right?"
Harry, pleased as a satisfied Cerberus, unpacked cookies.
"There's more for Mr. Smethwyck," he reported and patted his bag. Judging by its appearance, there was far more than just cookies.
At this rate who knows who'll adopt whom first, Snape thought. But this thought for some reason didn't cause the usual tension.
"Harry, can you tonight spare a couple hours working in the laboratory?"