AUTHOR"S NOTE (IMPORTANT): Hi all! It sure has been awhile! I wanted to give some context to this last chapter since it might not be what you expected.

I had a third of it written when I fell off the update wagon. In the six months since then, it had languished –but some kind, excited reviewers made me want to at least give an ending for it. Because I'll be honest, I'm just plain over Harry Potter. Putting aside that JKR is a transphobic piece of shit, I just can't get as invested as I used to be able to. I've also joined a Marxist Org, which requires a lot of reading and dedication; it's a better use of my energy. So this chapter is an ending. Not the best, not the longest, but I wanted to give everyone who liked my fic something, because just I didn't want to just abandon it. That said, thank you all for reading!

Ron paused in the entrance to the dormitory at the sight across the way, through the open door to the washroom. He had skipped out on the last half of Binns' lesson to come back up and wake Harry, who had taken to simply sleeping in until lunch every so often and ignoring the loss of points or detentions altogether –but his friend may not have actually been sleeping all this time. Harry was staring into the mirror with an intense look on his face and was gripping the sink hard enough that his knuckles stood out from the rest of his skin.

Ron blinked and a flash of purple curled over Harry's forehead, and his scar changed; just like that time in the Common Room that Luna voiced her concerns, the lightning bolt inimical to the 'Boy-Who-Lived' disappeared and was replaced by a much longer and more discoloured scar. A few parallel, jagged lines that slashed straight through his eyebrow and hooked a bit on the eyelid underneath, and then the sight flickered and went back to the 'curse' scar. Harry made a noise of frustration and hit the side of the sink, but the lightning scar stubbornly stayed where it was. When Harry glanced down, there was a flicker of purple over the back of his hand for a brief second, but Ron hadn't yet seen what the 'I must not tell lies' was replaced by.

Ron scuffed his shoe across the floor and shot Harry an apologetic smile when he flinched and whirled around to see him.

"Oh, Ron," Harry sounded relieved, which was much better than two days prior when Dean had snuck up on him and got clocked in the face for his trouble. "Class done already?"

"Nah, but it's just Binns, figured I'd come up and grab you for lunch."

Harry nodded absently and left the washroom with a final irritated glance at the mirror, and set about finding his uniform cloak; he'd started leaving the tie no matter how many times McGonagall chided him, and when Hermione had asked he'd given his typical reasoning nowadays, 'It just makes me feel better'. Well, far be it for Ron to tell Harry to stop when his friend was finally settling down –bugger for everyone who wanted to win the House Championship.

Ron kept up a decent chat with Harry about Quidditch as they descended into the Common Room, not particularly bothered that neither of them was too invested in it. Lately Harry hadn't held much interest in the sport –or in many Wizard-only activities, to be honest –so Ron had learnt to keep up the conversation himself or be content with quiet sometimes. It was strange, because at one point Ron knew he would've been annoyed at the lack of engagement. But Harry had been so distraught these past few weeks, Ron couldn't bring himself to it; the moment he felt annoyance spark he remembered the way Harry had stared at his hand in open horror under Luna's touch, or the dark, confident glint in his eye as he thrust a sword into Malfoy's face, and he chastised himself.

They had just clambered out of the portrait hole when the end of class bell rang out and the start of the wave of all the other students down for lunch began. Ron had been hoping to pre-empt it, but perhaps being in more populated hallways wasn't the worst –he could feel eyes on them as they joined the crowd, but there was less of a chance for a teacher to pull Harry over for a 'chat' at the same time.

Ron followed Harry to the Ravenclaw table once they reached the Great Hall, to where Luna was sitting with a book in the middle of a distinct bubble that separated her from the other fifth years. He hadn't really realized how much she was ostracized until recently, and he channelled his frustration with his own past behaviour into glaring at anyone sitting at the Raven's table who even glanced at her the wrong way. She never brought it up herself, but Ron was satisfied to see heads quickly turn away; Harry buffed her on the shoulder and she looked up at him with a small smile.

"Want to eat lunch with us?" Harry asked, and while she hemmed a little Luna ultimately declined; Harry asked her everyday just in case, but Ron had gathered that Luna liked using lunch to study. His friend never seemed put off about it, just nodded in acceptance and grinned easily.

"No worries, Luna. See you after class?"

"Sure. Maybe we can erase it from your hand for good, this time," Luna's eyes flickered with lilac briefly, but Ron didn't have the time to dwell on that. With Harry moving on, Ron cast one last stare at the fifth year Ravenclaw boys –gained him a few flinches, excellent –before he trotted after his friend over to their house table.

Ginny was next in the rounds, as she usually sat with a few other fifth and fourth year Gryffindors near the end of the table closest to the doors. When she spotted them coming the girl next to Ginny whispered something to her which made her snort; a few paces from the bench Ginny raised a fist and offered it for Harry to give her props. She met Ron's stare and rolled her eyes, but he scuffed at her hair before she could make another crack about him being a 'guard dog'.

"Burnes still giving you trouble?" Harry asked –Ginny had complained fiercely about one of the Slytherin boys in her DADA class being overly formal with the duelling protocols and causing more problems than he solved.

"He certainly didn't expect a leg sweep," she said cheerily –Harry had suggested she put in a show of 'muggle dueling' as some of the Professors called it and see how the boy managed with that. "Snape docked me points, but the look on everyone's faces was worth it."

"I always said you were my favourite sister, Gin'," she punched him in the arm for the blatant lie, but still snorted out a laugh as she waved them off to go to Harry's next stop.

Ron liked the little routine Harry had set up during lunch –it kept him in the loop even if he was off doing his own thing for the rest of the day (read: avoiding the teachers) and he knew the others in their little circle appreciated it as well. After the incident last week with the locked down Come and Go room, he and Hermione had seriously talked it all over with Dean, Seamus, Luna, Ginny and Neville, and they had all come to the same conclusion; Harry needed help, and they were going to do their damndest to be the ones who gave him that. The teachers never believed any of them when it came to Quirrell or the Chamber, not with Sirius or how bad Umbridge was, and since they were being affected by these weird flames too, there was no point in going to them.

So Luna coached Harry through his attempts to wipe away certain parts of the illusion consistently. Ginny talked with him about her classes and probably vented stuff to him she didn't feel comfortable saying to Ron himself. Dean prompted Harry to join him in his 'football' exercises, and Seamus made sure he ate at least twice a day. Neville brought him class notes from the mornings he missed and tried to help him through this aversion to using his wand –more and more he was letting that slide, however, since it threw Harry into a worse mood if he acquiesced. Hermione was quietly doing research into the names Harry still dropped now and then, and had recently sent out a few letters to test the waters –nothing too explicit, just in case they got the wrong person or this magic affected more people than they thought.

And Ron... well, maybe Ginny was a little right when she teased him about being a guard dog. Not that he stopped anyone from approaching Harry. But he had to admit that since the incident, it had been harder to tear himself away from the comfortable spot he'd fallen into just a bit behind his shoulder and to the side. He didn't know how to describe it, and he wasn't sure how to bring it up with the others. Regardless, he did what he could and Harry seemed to appreciate it –even if it meant he was the one who ended up meeting with Malfoy most of the time, now.

When they got to Neville, Dean and Seamus they were nearly done, and Harry was quick to insert himself between Dean and Neville while Ron sat for a moment on the bench next to Seamus. Ron prepared himself for either a bickering argument or a gang-up of mother hens, and wasn't disappointed.

"See, I'm here aren't I?"

"Just barely, I'd guess," Dean chuffed a little and elbowed Harry in the side. "Worried us right out of our minds, you did."

"That's what I said," Seamus thrust a finger into Harry's face dramatically across Neville's line of sight. "You will be eating something won't you? Dobby told me you didn't send for breakfast."

"Yes, mum," Harry grinned and grabbed at Seamus' ear over Neville's shoulders and gave it a tweak, and Seamus attempted to punch him in the stomach through the space Neville left between his lap and his arms on the table. "Next you gonna check on my report card? See I've done my laundry?" Ron shared a commiserating glance with Neville through the tangle of limbs, something to the effect of 'why is stupidity good for us?'

"Alright, alright, you two've had your fun. Hermione does need to see you before class, Harry," Ron reminded, which made his friend perk up.

"Right, yeah, thanks Ron," still, he couldn't resist pinching Seamus' cheek once more, and deftly dodged the swipe to his head. "Still on for tomorrow, Dean?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

Harry waved as he left them and Ron followed at a more sedate pace, and as Harry slid in next to Hermione and engaged her about whatever it was she needed him for, he found himself glad and relieved. Whatever caused Harry's sudden shift in character –Harry was letting it, and he hadn't seen his friend so self assured and at ease in all the time he'd known him.

Ron arrived next to them just as they finished their discussion, and took the seat in between them when Harry scooched over and waved him towards it. Harry made sure to wiggle his fingers at Seamus a dozen feet down and tucked into his meal, while Hermione nudged Ron's shoulder with her own.

"You look happy," she observed.

"Do I?" Ron accepted the cup of tea she passed him. "I guess Malfoy's not such a bad bloke..."

She snorted. "You know what I mean." Ron shrugged, but didn't refute her. "If you wouldn't mind, I've got something I need your help with after class. Bring Malfoy."

Harry wasn't giving his input even though he could clearly hear them, which was –good. He'd explicitly told them that he didn't need to be minded or involved in every aspect of their lives, but he would appreciate being kept in the loop if it was about his situation. He'd be happy so long as that kept on. "Found something interesting?" Ron guessed.

"Let's call it a surprise."

Something in his chest, the same something that itched when he had to leave Harry alone or with people he didn't trust, wiggled pleasantly at that –Harry wasn't the only person who had loosened up a little over the last few weeks. He let it do what it wanted, akin to when he cast a spell he knew by heart, and a strange warmth flowed through his veins straight towards his two closest friends; one traveled from his ribs down his side and into his leg where it was pressed up against Hermione's, and the other chased up to his shoulder and then down to his elbow where it touched Harry's arm. The other two relaxed instantly and Ron let it stay calm and quiet for a minute before he reluctantly tucked the feeling back and away.

Luna said not to do it very often or it would get to be too much, almost addictive. It was the fire, she hazarded, because she was certain that some part of Harry was much more experienced with the flames than with magic. It was in the stuff's nature to search for connection and stability wherever it thought was a good avenue. Harry didn't have many close friendships, so they were where it would go firstly.

To be quite honest, Ron intended to take the warning seriously –it wasn't as if he was particularly keen on possibly losing his magic. But at the same time, it was quickly becoming more difficult to talk himself out of giving in to what the stuff wanted.

And in the back of his mind, he wondered each time; which would he choose, if he was faced with Harry's happiness or his own? Once they figured out where these visions were coming from, would he be content to stay and fight the war on the horizon while Harry... if Harry decided, justified, that he wanted no more part of it?

Most of the time he couldn't find an answer. But then he would sometimes catch Harry relaxed and stretched out like a cat, no nightmares, no wariness in his face, and he thought maybe he knew.

VVV

Hermione had been itching to get Malfoy into her clutches –he wanted out of the Death Eaters and knew more about Harry's situation than anyone else in the school, there was no way she could pass up the opportunity to grill him until she was satisfied. That the person she was corresponding with –no name, just an M initial –wanted to get his input on their preparations was just icing on the cake. Harry had no problem with her taking the reins of the whole rotten business into her own hands, he trusted her to see it through and do it thoroughly, and to repay that she was going to claw back whatever this farce was and get Harry the answers he needed.

When Ron showed up with Malfoy in tow, the Slytherin looked sick to his stomach and twitchy. Despite their history, she found herself concerned –hearing Harry offhandedly mention Malfoy's strange behaviour when it came to this arrangement of theirs was one thing, but actually seeing it was another. He definitely didn't fit the bill of the boy who only last year had been puffed up on the power that Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad had given to him.

"What more is there?" he asked when she got them both to sit down. "I'm already about at rock-bottom when it comes to the Manor. I wasn't supposed to start learning about it in detail until next year."

"Things have started moving faster than that," Hermione admitted. The third letter from M had come in the mail this morning, and when she had gone over it briefly with Harry there had actually been a spark of recognition in his face. "If all goes well, V-Voldemort should be out of the way by the new year."

Malfoy stared at her like she was a loon, his complexion flushed red, and even Ron appeared unnerved. She supposed it was a pretty bold statement to make when even Dumbledore didn't seem all very confident in the fight against him, regardless of what he'd shown Harry in that clandestine meeting they had gone through two weeks ago.

"Malfoy, you've given us more than enough to break into the manor, I'm told," Hermione tried to smile at him through the strange atmosphere, but she couldn't tell if it was doing anything at all to make him feel better. "It won't be difficult for –er, the people I'm corresponding with, to use it so long as nothing changes too much in the next two months. It's the plan you were working on to get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts that we need to accelerate."

Malfoy made a noise like she'd punched him in the gut. "The Vanishing Cabinet won't work. Not when the pair's in Knockturn, and not without an engineer to fix it."

"Not that one, surprisingly. You've been researching the Siege Wards," it was just an educated guess based on what he had laid out for Ron that he was planning to have done over the next few months, but when Malfoy's jaw dropped she allowed a bit of satisfaction to bleed through. "There's no record that I could access on them, but it isn't hard to find out that the Malfoy's ancestors, the A'Dale Noble Family, were the ones to develop the Ward Matrixes back in the 1500s."

"Bloody hell," Malfoy muttered absently, which –well, who wouldn't preen at the gobsmacked look on his face? From her right, Ron gave her a knowing, amused grin and she just felt even more smug. "You –fine, yes, that's what I've been doing. They're complicated but not impenetrable."

"I need you to tell me how to get around them. Everything you can give me. After that, we'll consider you square and I'll even help Harry get you out of all this," Malfoy still looked apprehensive, but he nodded in acceptance and that was about the best Hermione had expected. They arranged for Malfoy to bring any books and notes on the Wards he possessed to the Come-and-Go Room the next day, and when he left he had regained a bit of his normal expression to his face.

"Easy to pity when he's all humble like this, huh?" Ron asked, and flopped down on the couch next to her. Whenever Harry wasn't around these days he turned extremely clingy, although Hermione couldn't say she minded. Luna had given her the same talk about this odd Fire that was affecting them that she gave to Ron, and Hermione was smart enough to recognize that she wasn't exactly an island in a storm right now.

"And Ginny's right, we don't even know which parts we're remembering about him are true," she mused, and when she leaned back into the couch cushions Ron's head got dislodged off her shoulder and he instead dropped it down close to her knee. He sighed dramatically and stretched his arms up into the air, and when he met her eyes he was more serious than usual.

"This person you're writing, they're going to take Harry away, right?" he frowned slightly at the thought. "But it'll be good for him. He hates it here."

"They're writing on behalf of a 'concerned third party', who has the resources and the inclination to wipe Voldemort off the map. Or rather, anyone involved in this, because before I explained what we knew they were all ready to level Hogwarts itself," that first response to her letter was tucked safe in a hidden compartment in her trunk and still made her stomach drop out when she read it. "But, yes. If Harry wants to go, they'll take him. And the only reason they haven't already is because the Fire and Magic combining are making it hard to get a fix on where we are."

"...What are we going to do?" Ron shut his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms into them. "I want Harry to be happy, but –I don't want to be without him."

And wasn't that just the crux of this, that in order for Harry to be happy he had to leave them behind. Sometimes, Hermione thought about what it meant, that all her memories of Harry from the last five years weren't real, that what she was feeling right now wasn't actually real. She wondered if Ron and the others had thought about it, that the only reason they felt so attached to Harry was because they all thought he'd been their friend since they were eleven. But even saying that, even logically knowing all of that, there was still a big part of Hermione that shouted back, 'who cares?!'

What did it matter that the past five years weren't real? The past three months certainly were, and how must Harry be feeling since he'd realized the same thing she had –that all of his memories of them before the end of June weren't real either?

Or, she supposed, that they didn't know if they were real or not, nor where his memories of that other boy's life were coming from, not really. That the uncertainty there was almost worse than having a clear answer.

"I suppose we'll do what's best for Harry," she eventually settled on, and when Ron made a awful little noise behind his hands she scrunched up her face and put a hand in his hair to distract them both. "That's all we can do."

VVV

"They want me to..."

Hermione nodded and tapped at the third paragraph in the letter, then handed it back to Luna. "They explained it fairly thoroughly. Apparently you're the only one who can because you've got the same Fire colour as what's on Harry."

Luna bit her lip and read the passage in question, and it did seem fairly straightforward. Whoever had written this was obviously well versed in using them and understood that Luna didn't want to go past a certain threshold –they'd even offered, once they took care of all of this, to put a limiter on them for her so she didn't have to worry about it anymore. Luna couldn't say she wasn't sorely tempted, because this had been on her mind since her mother had died. Before that, even.

Harry lounged on the couch he'd taken to in the Room and with a little effort Luna could see the lilac all over him, most strong around his heart and, strangely, his forearms. But in the weeks passed since the revelation of how they made everyone around him forget him, Harry had also undergone a change in this aspect, not only in his personality and gait.

There were flicks of blue and green among the lilac, especially so around the most blatant spots on his forehead and the back of his hand. There had always been a strong spot of purple in the mass over his heart, and now there were tentative specks of yellow and red, so small that if Luna wasn't already straining to see she might have missed them entirely. Or missed the barely there flecks of colour that sparked in Ron and Hermione's eyes whenever they touched Harry these days. She had suspected they hadn't listened to her, but at least it was still less so than even her own abilities with the Fire.

"And what did they send you to carry it?" Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a... metal mason jar with a clear stone stuck into the side of it. It almost reminded Luna of her early attempts at earrings before she hit on her current favourites. "Alright, let's see what Harry says."

"Sure, do what you need to," Harry agreed easily once they explained, and stayed where he was as Luna sat down on the table in front of him to go over the letter once more. Hermione kept the mason jar at the ready, and after a minute Luna nodded firmly; she could do this.

She focused again, and when she dipped her hand through the fire it gave, and actually allowed her to pull a handful up and into the air –without taking it too far away, Luna poured it into the jar and then took another handful for good measure before Hermione hastily screwed the cap on. The stone on the outside of the jar turned indigo, and they relaxed. Harry had kept still and silent under her hands, but when she pulled back he shuddered and grasped at the spot where she had removed the flame, just around his stomach.

"Weird," he breathed out, and in a second the empty spots filled back in, this time with decidedly more blue and green in them. "Ugh, it never goes away. Tell me this'll push things along, 'Mione?"

"Undoubtedly," Hermione stood and snatched a box from the floor, a letter already waiting inside of it. "I've got to send this off now, thanks Luna!"

"No problem," Luna let herself relax, let the lilac bleed out of her vision, and turned back to see Harry staring at her.

"You know, I don't, like, remember much about all the stuff I was dreaming about. It kind of feels like I've gone back to square one, except I know at the same time. Weird, isn't it?" Luna nodded, and Harry went back to staring up at the ceiling. "Like an instinct. I don't want to use magic, I want to use these Flames, but every time I try I can't seem to get through. How is it you can stop yourself?"

"Because I like magic. Flames are too specialized for my taste," Harry hummed in acknowledgement of that. "Also, I don't want to have to work for the Mafia."

"Ha! That's a pretty good deterrent, actually."

They were quiet again for a moment, and then Luna looked down at Harry's forehead, and the scar that wasn't really there.

"Harry, if you can't remember, then how do you know that you want to leave?" Harry looked surprised at her question for a moment, and then hummed in thought.

"You're pretty sharp, y'know that, Luna?" he smiled slightly, and Luna couldn't help but jump a little when his eyes glowed green. "Don't tell the others, alright? I don't want them to worry. But I don't remember Hanato's past anymore because I saw his future," he swiped at the fire on his forehead and it cleared for a few seconds. "Anything would be better than that, anything. But he sent a message back somehow, and you heard Hermione –whoever she's writing knows what they're doing. So I'll stay here, and get the answers about Hanato's past when they get here, and once all that happens? I'm pretty damn sure I'll still want to leave."

/

When Hermione asked him to pull one over on Professor McGonagall, Dean spit out his pumpkin juice and weathered being laughed at by his friends until he had recovered. He had listened to her explanation and read the same letters this 'M' was sending her, and after a night of thinking about it he had agreed to go along with the request. It wasn't too difficult to forge a letter from his mother to show his Head of House, given that Charlotte Thomas had never corresponded with the school before, and although it felt a little strange to ask, McGonagall agreed to be his escort out to London.

Dean was jittery with nerves as they made their way to the small restaurant 'M' had set up as the meeting point, hoping that his teacher wouldn't assume the worst when they entered and Charlotte was nowhere in sight. Thankfully it never came to that, because when the door to the tiny Italian place closed behind them McGonagall made a surprised noise and allowed an older man with a cane to approach her.

"Uncle, what are you doing here?" she asked, glancing briefly at Dean before she looked back to the old man. There was a pinch to her forehead that made Dean think she was already suspicious about the timing. "Not that it isn't a nice surprise, but I'm escorting a student..."

"Minerva, I'm afraid we had to ask young Mr. Thomas to help us contact you," the man said, nodding slightly in Dean's direction. "You haven't received any of my letters since June, have you?"

McGonagall stiffened, but as her hands were currently held tight by the old man, she couldn't reach her wand. "Mr. Thomas, Uncle, what in Merlin's name is going on?"

"Why don't we sit and explain? I assure you it warrants such measures," McGonagall's Uncle gestured over to a large table in the back corner, and then beckoned Dean to follow along with them. His Professor was drawn tight with whatever she was feeling at the moment, and it didn't lessen when they made it to the table and were face with a small assortment of men and women in formal dress.

"Ganauche, Nougat," McGonagall nodded to the two men closest to the edge of the table, eyes narrow. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with everyone here."

"Quite, yes, let me see," the old man waited until they sat down. "For those who don't know, this is my eldest godchild, Minerva and a student of hers, Dean Thomas. After Ganauche and Nougat we have Aria, the Don of the Giglio Nero family and her bodyguard Gamma, then Mammon of the Varia and Savario, a doctor from the Armoniche Ospedale. Mr. Thomas, my name is Timoteo Vongola, thank you for agreeing to arrange this meeting."

Dean ducked his head, partly unnerved by the attention and partly to avoid his teacher's stern stare.

"Minerva, this gathering concerns one of your students. We have strong reason to believe he is currently under the influence of Mist flames that are affecting the whole of the school, alongside magic that has modified the memories of his family and friends," Timoteo began gravely, simultaneously exuding exhaustion and an overwhelming seriousness. "Mammon has been corresponding with a member of this student's Harmony, who has provided enough evidence over the last few weeks that I know will be enough to convince you. If you agree, I would also have Mammon remove the Mist-influence from your person so you can help."

McGonagall took a deep breath and removed her gaze from Dean. "Which student are you talking about?"

"Harry Potter."

...

Hours later, Dean and the Professor landed back in Hogsmeade, quiet and subdued after everything Timoteo and Mammon had outlined –most of which Dean hadn't the slightest clue about, but if the way McGonagall paled to a sickly degree over the course of the afternoon was any inclination, was not what she had wanted to hear. Even now she appeared off-balance and out of her depth, which was a rather unnerving look on the usually unflappable Head of Gryffindor House.

"Mr. Thomas, I will make this very clear," she spoke suddenly, not looking at him as they began the trek up to the school. "You did the right thing for Mr. Potter. Had I not learnt all of this and Mx. Mammon not treated the Mist-influence properly, it would likely take many more months to sort this horrid affair out. For that, thank you." Dean didn't respond, sensing the implied 'but' at the end of such a sentence. "That said, if you ever trick me in this way again, you will have detention well into your thirties. I learnt my lesson about listening to my students, and I would much more appreciate just a plain talking to than a run around like that."

"Yes ma'am," Dean nodded firmly, and out of the corner of his eye he saw his Professor smile approvingly.

"As well, please pass on to Mr. Potter my apologies. I would go to see him, but..."

"Oh, that," Dean interrupted her. "Harry actually told me –uh, he doesn't really want to see you just yet. Mostly 'cause he can't remember anything clearly, it would be too confusing for him."

"It's just as well," McGonagall sighed. "I will have to ask Filius to help me, and that takes top priority. If magic is really what's affecting Mr. Potter's family's memory then we have to treat it as soon as possible. Luckily Filius has extensive experience with this sort of thing, especially after the fool Lockhart exposed himself."

"I'll pass it along." Dean hoped, not for the first time, that doing this was the right choice; and once more he thought to himself that trusting Harry's judgement was all he could do in the end.

/

Neville decided, after one too many times Harry snapped at him and sequestered himself in the Come and Go Room, that trying to help Harry with these flames of his through using his wand was a bad idea. At first, Harry hadn't really let on that it bothered him as much as it obviously did, which in hindsight made Neville feel like a massive insensitive prick for not picking up on it, but he couldn't exactly change that. He wanted to help Harry somehow, and if the wand idea was counterproductive then he would just have to come up with something else.

While Ron was content with sticking close to Harry and Hermione was off unearthing the whole conspiracy around their friend, Neville eventually settled on using what Luna had told him about how the Lovegoods and others accessed their 'Fire' to help Harry through it. When he spoke with the other Gryffindor about it, he knew he'd made the right decision by the bright, excited way Harry had agreed.

He hadn't really thought about the fact that it would mean he had to throw jinxes at Harry in an effort to make him desperate enough to block them with something, but it was what Luna had suggested. The first few days it resulted in no few trips to the Hospital Wing and many more apologies on Neville's part, but on the contrary to how Harry acted after using his wand, the other boy actually grew more and more lively with each session they went through.

Even more so when Harry encouraged him to throw in some punches and kicks alongside the spells, which inevitably ended up giving Neville some bruises right back.

But he had to admit, it was fun. He had the feeling that Harry was just humouring him and didn't really expect anything to come from this, although it didn't bother him as much as he expected. It was hard to dwell on his anxiety and self doubt when there was something much bigger afoot –and according to what Malfoy had to say about it, it wasn't only Harry who had been affected by the trip to the Ministry back in June. Neville tried not to dwell on it too much.

A breakthrough came in late September, just a few days after McGonagall and Dean had come back from London only for their Head of House to leave the school with Professor Flitwick on 'urgent business', throwing the Hogwarts rumour mill into overdrive. Neville and Harry were just messing around in the Come and Go Room, his friend teaching Neville how to properly throw a punch and then having him try to hit him, when something clicked unexpectedly.

One second Neville's fist had grazed Harry's nose and Harry fell back on his butt with a bark of surprised laughter, and the next second he yelped in shock and clutched at his forehead. Neville instantly stopped and hovered in worry as Harry stood up and a strange feeling entered the air like it was charged with static, and Harry stared down at his hands like he'd never seen them before. Neville flinched back a bit when he noticed Harry's eyes were glowing green.

"Nev, throw up a barrier!" Harry demanded, grinning fiercely, and Neville did as asked –not a second too soon, as a split second later Harry had swung his fist forward and there was a flash of green. Next came a great shudder that seemed to reverberate out from the barrier and even made the lights and the fireplace flicker in and out like they had been caught in a high wind, and Neville nearly lost his footing from the force of it.

"We fucking did it! I've got it!" Harry laughed and pumped a fist in the air and raced over to hug Neville so hard that he literally lifted him off of his feet. "God, is this what it's supposed to feel like? This is, like –fuck!"

"Wait, so you –you remember now, too?" Neville let Harry swing him around a little before he dropped him back onto his feet. Even then, Harry seemed too full of energy to sit still and strode around the room, inspecting his hands all the while.

"Nope! Blank as a canvas up here!" Harry was still smiling. "But I can use the green fire now! Flames? Green flames? Anyway! This feels awesome!" He swiped at his forehead and the image of his lightning scar actually lifted for several minutes before it came back, which only pleased Harry further when Neville told him. "I can still feel the blue ones under my skin, they're not ready to come out yet I guess, but one's better than nothing! Jeez!"

Throwing punches was well and truly off the day's agenda now, so Neville plopped himself down on one of the couches while Harry paced around and let the other boy bounce this thoughts and excitement off of him like some kind of amplifier. It only got worse when, about twenty minutes later the door to the room was thrown open and both Ron and Hermione burst in with wild expressions on their faces and zeroed in on where Harry was making weird hand motions that were apparently helping him coax the fire out even more.

Neville watched as the trio got close to each other and chatted up a storm in their excitement and could finally see what Luna was talking about. Those three were peas in a pod indeed, and if Neville was a gambler he would've put good money on this –wherever Harry went from now on, Ron and Hermione wouldn't be able to stay away for long. Even the possibility of losing their magic wouldn't be enough of a deterrent, and honestly he didn't think that was a bad thing.

/

Seamus understood why Hermione was the one to speak with the mysterious people who wanted to help Harry out with this whole 'memory' debacle, because she was smart and vicious and could hold her own against anyone. He knew that Ron had attached himself to Harry's side because they were best friends and Harry trusted the redhead to a degree Seamus couldn't even comprehend. Hell, Seamus even agreed with Hermione, despite his nerves, that Dean being the one to get McGonagall to London had been the best choice because of how disconnected Mrs. Thomas was from wizards in general.

Seamus did not, however, agree that he should be the one to get the group of non-wizards concerned about Harry through the Siege Wards, especially not when all he could really do for Harry was worry over him and make him eat properly. This was arguably the most important part of the entire plan –why were they letting the resident mother-hen of the group do it?

Of course, Hermione's reasoning was immutable, to say the least. Seamus' Dad was descended from the same A'Dale family that Malfoy was, and that meant that he could access the matrixes without having to undergo the exhaustive warding that most other wizards who maintained the castle magic needed to. But unlike Malfoy, since Seamus was a half-blood he'd actually have a much easier time getting muggles through the Wards, since the magic was already predisposed to 'redirect' muggles instead of 'violently ejecting' wizards with ill intent. Hermione had theorized that the combination of access to the Wards and a blood connection to someone non-magical would act as a sort of cloak for anyone he wanted to bring in, and if there was one thing in the world that Seamus trusted, it was a Hermione Granger hypothesis.

So just because he understood and was going to do it didn't mean he agreed –especially not when he had already treated Harry horribly in the past. He didn't want this to fail and feel like it was his fault, even if he knew the sentiment was selfish on his part. So he was going to do it, but internally he felt like he wasn't the right person even still.

They were going to do it on a Hogsmeade weekend; Harry and everyone else would stay up in the castle doing homework as a cover, while Seamus had made sure to talk up the trip in the days beforehand to make it seem like he was on the hunt for a birthday present for his Mum. Well, while he waited for these people he was meeting he did actually purchase a new set of Quill-nibs for her, but that was just an added bonus. He tried to make himself act as normal as possible, window shopping among the throngs of his fellow students until he noticed the old man under the awning of a closed Seamstress' shop wave at him.

"Hi, erm, are you Mr. Nougat? I'm, uh, Seamus," he felt his face turn red at the fumbling introduction, especially as the man looked scarier than Professor Snape after a Gryffindor first year class. When the mad nodded shortly, he couldn't stop the sigh of relief. "Okay, great! Uh, how're we going to do this?"

"Come along," Mr. Nougat turned and began walking down the alley just next to the seamstress shop, strides so long that Seamus had to hussle to keep up. "Ms. Granger and Minerva have done as much as they can to ease things once we get in. We're going to use the same Flames affecting Mr. Potter to conceal the majority of the group, so all you have to do is lead one person in."

"That's –yeah, that makes sense," Seamus ducked his head and rummaged in his bag, just to see that he'd actually brought it along, ease his nerves. "It should be easy enough with the cloak."

"Quite," Mr. Nougat hummed and, once they had crossed a quiet residential street, he knocked twice on the wooden beam at the entrance to another alley. There was a flicker of purple and Mr. Nougat pushed him forward through some sort of concealing barrier, into the thick of a gathering of formally dressed, quietly milling adults. He felt his nerves skyrocket right back up.

"About time," the –baby? No, it was probably some weird curse magic –muttered, and floated over to Seamus with an outstretched hand. "No time to waste, boy, let's see the cloak."

Ooohhh gooood... Seamus internally freaked out as he hurried to obey the demand. How do Hermione and Ron just roll with this crazy shite every year?

/

When people started dropping like flies across the Great Hall, Ginny could barely contain her excitement and began bouncing in place. Apparently whatever the stuff was that made Harry be –well, like he was –would be the key part in how these Mafia people were going to break in without anyone the wiser. Ginny wasn't about to object, especially not as Snape turned to ask Sinistra a question and slumped back in his chair, out cold, none of the other Professors even noticing. It was brilliant.

They had all gone over the situation last night, Seamus nervous, Ron antsy, but Harry had been oddly calm about all of it. Ginny had caught him at the end and asked him if he was really alright with how everything was going –ever since that one day he'd locked himself in the Room of Requirement he'd seemed really distant –but what he'd told her wasn't exactly what she expected.

"I feel like I'm gonna claw my skin off, honestly, Gin," Harry had smiled, but it was all teeth. "I trust Hermione with this, but if these people get here and I don't recognize them –I dunno what I'll do. Something foolish, probably. I'm just trying to stay calm."

Ginny felt like she understood on some level –maybe it was similar to the skin-crawling disgust she had felt after it really sunk in what the shade of Voldemort had done to her in 1st year? Regardless, as she looked over to Harry now, as more and more of the student body and nearly all of the teachers were falling asleep, she was glad to see him alert and practically vibrating. Hermione and Ron were as close as they could get to him without just sitting on top of each other, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Whatever those Flame things were doing, it sure was weird.

Finally, Professor McGonagall came down from the Head table and briefly spoke to Harry, letting him know she was going to go fetch Seamus and the group now that everyone was asleep. While she did so, Ginny took a glance around and noted who was still awake. Originally when she heard what the plan was, she'd been a bit confused –it was naive, but she wondered why they couldn't just explain the situation to the Headmaster, it had obviously worked for McGonagall.

Apparently, however, way back in what would have been Harry's first year, McGonagall had told Dumbledore that she had made sure Harry was with a better family. It hadn't gone well. Something about a prophecy? Regardless, not a good idea.

When Seamus came in after McGonagall alone, there was a split second of confusion before the air next to him shifted and Harry's Invisibility Cloak came off to reveal a... very tiny person in a black hood and cloak, floating in mid air. The person made a gesture with their hand and just as suddenly, with a flicker of purple there was a small crowd standing next to them, some looking around curiously but most focused on where Harry was slowly rising to his feet. There was an old man with a cane who looked especially relieved and a man in a lab coat who did a double take and immediately began to whisper to the woman next to him, but it was the boy about Ginny's age who really caught everyone's attention.

He pushed his way to the front of the crowd, a frantic expression on his face, and when he saw Harry standing there he froze. When Ginny glanced back at her friend, she jolted in surprise when she saw that his mouth was agape, one hand clutched over his chest and a few tears actually falling from his eyes.

"Oh," Harry croaked, then let out a short, high pitched laugh. "It worked. You actually did it, Nayoshi."

/

The next few hours were a confusing, emotional whirlwind.

After a sufficient amount of time spent letting Hanato's little brother cling to him, Harry was introduced to the Vongola Ninth, who apparently had been the one to place him with the Momoda as a toddler. While the resident purple flame users –Shamal, Mammon, Bouche, Chrome and three doctors from the flame-user hospital, Savario, Myrtle and Mariana –began making their way through the hundreds of attending students to trace the 'flame origin', whatever that was, Harry spoke with people about his own situation.

At the moment, all he remembered was Hanato's future, a similar vision to that which had been sent back to a number of people through whatever crazy power Yuni of the Giglio Nero possessed. Don Aria assured him that he would be able to be treated, and that she would personally see to it as the Sky Arcobaleno, which –wow. He would be sent to the flame hospital to make sure everything was done properly, as this was such a rare case it would be better in the long run to have it all documented in case something similar ever happened again.

It was only after an hour of the –Mist flame? –users investigating that they determined the source of the illusion to be Harry himself. It was almost like an infection, Dr. Shamal theorized as Dr. Savario inspected the mass of purple flames near his heart. Whoever Harry originally interacted with after the illusion was first placed upon him would be affected by it, as would anyone they then went to about Harry. The magic community being so insular was actually a good thing in this case, otherwise a lot more people would be feeling it once they removed the source.

"It's probably also how it can be self sustaining, even with Crouch Junior dead," Mammon contributed –apparently alongside all of this, the Varia were being hired to clean out Britain of Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort? Harry had a sneaking suspicion Hermione had something to do with that. "By my accounts, the man used his Mist flames to make it look like he could still cast magic. The Vindice won't be happy this slipped through."

Whoever had actually cast the memory spell on Hanato's family and friends back in Japan, that wasn't as conclusive. Malfoy had provided a few guesses based on the letters he had read from the younger Barty Crouch, but in the end it probably didn't matter all that much. They'd likely be dead by the New Year if the Varia had anything to say about it, and Harry was happy to hear it. Soon, the confusion would be over and he'd be able to rest.

Until the source illusion could be removed, the team of Mists the Don of the Vongola had brought with him cast a lighter, temporary illusion –it would redirect any suspicion about Harry's whereabouts once the castle woke back up, and would only need to be monitored until it wasn't needed any longer. Since Harry was the only student who would be leaving at the moment, that left the task to his friends and Professor McGonagall.

Someone, probably Dr. Shamal or Bouche, would return to lift it once Harry was back to his old self, and at the same time would place the block on Luna's flames that she had been promised, as well as arrange for Malfoy to be placed in a Vongola-run witness protection program until the situation in Britain had blown over. With the way Malfoy had sagged in relief after being told that, Harry wasn't too sure his old rival would ever come back.

Harry was accompanied back up to the Gryffindor dorms by Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Dean and Seamus. In the Common Room the group split up, the latter four waving Harry, Hermione and Ron up to the dorm room like they knew that the three of them needed more privacy for the goodbye. Harry of course hugged them beforehand and thanked them for sticking by him through all this shit, and then it was him and his first two friends.

They helped him pack up his stuff in silence. Finally, when all that was left of Harry's time at Hogwarts –fake as five years of it was –was the four-poster bed he had slept in over the last month, Ron broke the quiet.

"We're gonna miss you, mate," his face crumpled up as Harry looked at him, and he casually wiped away the tears he was letting fall. "It feels like we'll never see you again."

Hermione nodded as well, "We're so happy you'll finally feel better, we are. We're just –a little selfish. We've been together five years."

But that wasn't true, was it? Harry pulled the two of them in for a hug and even though it hurt, he didn't let his flames respond when his friends instinctively reached for them. If he did, he was afraid he'd take away any chance for them to stay at Hogwarts. No matter how much he wanted to, he didn't have the right to tie them to him.

"You know you can still send me letters. I promise I'll respond even once all this is sorted out," Harry was squeezed tight and felt a little better –it was just about the only guarantee he could give. "You've done so much for me since school started –no way I'm gonna let you go."

Hermione and Ron laughed at that, and they followed him back down to the Entrance Hall.

/

Eight months later.

It was strange to wait on an empty riverbank with Isami, even after all the time that had passed since he had come back to his family. While Hanato couldn't sit still and kept pacing and checking his watch, Isami sat back against the grassy slope and watched him, amused. It was like their personalities were temporarily switched.

"Remember when I punched you near here?" Isami suddenly asked, which managed to jolt Hanato out of his tunnel vision –he let out a bark of laughter at recalling the feeling of whiplash from relief to shock.

"That was a good shouting match. Like, you just ripped into me," he watched his Cloud snicker as well –and didn't that feel good, to be able to claim Isami as an Advisor? "Ah, I can't remember why you were so mad, though? Sorry."

"Don't mind, don't mind," you couldn't just live under the influence of memory-altering Mist flames for three and a half months and not have some debilitating side effects. "It was 'cause you told me you wanted me to join the Momoda. You didn't exactly ease me into it, tactless oaf."

"Oi, oi, rude," Hanato huffed. "Oh, right, you avoided me for like a week, I thought we'd never be friends again. But it turns out you just needed to think it through six ways to Sunday."

"And then some, you criminal," Isami checked his watch. "Should be right about now, you excited?"

"Yes," Hanato had been waiting for the paperwork to go through ever since that latter back in February. "The Momoda may be patient, but four months is just torture," he weathered Isami's continued snickers at his expense and scanned the riverbank once again. What had he done to deserve such a great Harmony?

Just after thinking that, there was a swirl of strange wind, like a tornado in slow motion –Hanato vaguely recalled the concept of Portkeys, but seeing one in action was another thing all together. It obscured the two figures within it for a long minute, and then just as suddenly cleared away. Hanato was already jogging over as Ron and Hermione staggered and recovered themselves, and when he hooked his arms around their necks and dragged them in it was like the last little piece of the puzzle had been filled. It was like the discomfort of the last eight months had never happened.

From a young age, Hanato had grown up around Flame Users, and many facets of Flame culture were known to him even if the Momokyou-kai didn't practice many of them. When he turned six, his Aunt Minerva had explained that his birth parents were magical, and that he was going to have to make a decision, whether he knew it or not, of whether he wanted his Flames to stay dormant so he could attend Hogwarts like they had wanted, or if he wanted to awaken those Flames and lose his magic.

Hanato had listened to both sides of the choice with uncharacteristic seriousness for a six year old, before stating simply that if he was more likely to Activate anyway, he might as well not waste the time learning a skill he could lose completely. His Aunt had looked sad, but she hadn't argued, and when he told his father he could tell that he was pleased even if he tried not to show it. Hanato had Activated a few months later and Manifested a few days before his ninth birthday, and that had been that.

When Hanato came back from his unwilling time in the UK, his family had been overjoyed –and then livid when they realized he was halfway to Harmonization with two people he had left behind. It took a lot of patient explaining and time to convince them he hadn't been forced and that he was content with the possibility the connection would fade away. Just because there was a connection didn't always mean it had to lead to a Harmony.

But still, when Ron and Hermione continued to write to him and expressed their own discomfort with him being so far away, he felt nothing but relief. In Skyless Harmonies any parties involved needed to have a certain level of trust and loyalty between one another in order for flames with no prominent harmonic factor to bind in such a way. It wasn't always so easy as just finding someone you thought would make a good Wakagashira and calling it a day –and anyone who thought it was so easy was as big an idiot as the Tomaso heir.

Hanato had known all this since he was a child, had grown up in the thick of it, seen the good and bad of it, and chosen it for life before he'd left primary school. But even all the years, all the classes, all the logical arguments around it; even all of that couldn't prepare him for when he met the people he really wanted for a Harmony. Or rather, when he knew he couldn't have anyone else.

It didn't matter that they had only really known each other for less than four months. Isami had agreed to be his saiko-komon, and as Hanato, Hermione and Ron crushed each other in a fierce hug, their Flames clicked together like it had been inevitable from the start. The little sparks of Storm and Sun he had carried with him all this time blazed out in a heady rush of warmth, and Hanato knew for sure that everything was going to turn out alright.