Chapter Six of 'Winged Victory'- No Truer Word Spoken

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Chapter Six—No Truer Word Spoken

“Is there a reason that you’re sitting there and reading the Quidditch statistics when I know that you don’t care about them?”

“You never know,” Theo says with deliberate casualness, looking down at a picture of Gwenog Jones grinning at the camera. One of her teammates stands behind her, her arm wrapped around Jones’s shoulders. “Maybe a Quidditch player will be a useful connection if that’s what Harry wants to go into.”

“He’ll come back to you, Theo.”

Theo feels himself flushing, and glares at Blaise. “I never doubted it.”

“Really. So that’s why you’re looking at something you don’t care about and some of the magazines here are all shredded.” Blaise nods around the library that the Notts have used as an archive for decades, his eyebrows rising. Then he takes a seat in the blue chair across from Theo and stares at him.

“I can’t—influence his decision.”

“No, you can’t. Because you already have.”

“What?”

“Because you’ve already been the best ally and friend and boyfriend and lover he could ask for. Harry would be stupid if he deserted you because of something his dear idiot of a godfather said. And I never thought Harry was an idiot except when I was hearing second-hand stories of his death-defying exploits.”

Theo lets his head fall back against the chair behind him and closes his eyes. It’s been three hours since Harry went up to his room to contemplate things. The only pleasure Theo’s had since then has been the yelp and thump that followed Black’s attempt to get past the wards on Harry’s room.

He knows Harry will come back to him. Of course he knows that. He knows it the way he knows his last name and that his father was a bastard. He just didn’t think it would take even three hours. Half an hour, maybe.

But it’s been three.

Blaise’s hand falls on his shoulder and grips, hard, for a long second. Theo turns his head towards Blaise and lets his cheek touch the back of Blaise’s hand for a moment. It will say all they cannot say and would be advised not to say.

“He’ll come back,” Blaise says, and then his footsteps sound, quietly retreating.

Theo stares at the ceiling and breathes.

*

“Theo?”

It feels like the voice Theo has been waiting for all his life, and also like one that hasn’t come soon enough. He hurts his ankle by banging it against the side of the chair as he scrambles out of his seat and around.

Harry is standing in the doorway of the sitting room. He holds out his hands and smiles.

Theo manages not to run to Harry. He thinks. He’s not paying that much attention to what he’s doing himself. Most of his attention is trained on Harry, who smiles more widely at him and holds his hands so tight when Theo gets there that it—

Theo doesn’t know what it does. He just knows that he’s standing there and Harry is smiling and not yelling at him. So.

“I want to make it clear that this is not permission to cast the Confundus Charm on Ron or Hermione again,” Harry says, quietly and firmly. “You shouldn’t have done it, Theo. And I would ask you to apologize, except that I know you’re not actually sorry.”

“I could pretend to be sorry if it would make you feel better.”

“No. I’ve thought very carefully about how I feel, and I already talked to Sirius about it. Specifically, how it makes me feel to know that he’s accepting post-owls from Dumbledore.”

Theo nods slowly. He didn’t think about that.

“But you did what you thought was best, because at the time we didn’t have any deeper connection than your helping me with the Tournament in the library for a few weeks. And you really did think Ron would abandon me if I took him back again.”

“I would do it again.”

The diplomatic thing would be to keep quiet and agree to whatever Harry is saying and then just do it again in the future if he feels he needs to. But Theo knows that only honesty will work, especially if Black uses this to try and turn Harry against Theo again.

(Who is Theo kidding? It’s not an if.)

“I know you would.” Harry sighs, staring at him. “Because you’re the sort of person who would also fall in love with me in the course of a few months, and do anything to protect me, and let me stay in your house for the summer, and point Sirius to Mind-Healing because you know that he’s important to me, and welcome Ron and Hermione for my sake even though you dislike them. I—that’s the kind of person you are, Theo. I can’t separate the rest of you from the impulse that made you hit Ron with the Confundus Charm. I don’t want to try.”

Theo swallows down the impulse to say it wasn’t an impulse. It really was, in the sense that he hadn’t planned on it beforehand.

“But like I said, that doesn’t mean it’s permission for you to do that.”

Theo relaxes with a smile of his own. “And Black agrees?”

“I already spoke to Sirius, about this and about his tendency to blame you in general. Don’t worry. He’ll probably avoid looking you in the eye or even talking to you for quite a while.”

“And when he does?”

“I’ll be there.”

Theo hasn’t let himself trust many people in his life. According to ties of family and pureblood standards, his father should have been the one he could confide in the most, and look what kind of man he was. But for a moment, he lets himself balance on the assurance in Harry’s voice and close his eyes, full of sweet relief.

*

“What’s the spell to make a letter a Howler?”

Theo and Blaise have been discussing how to help Mrs. Zabini take over parts of the Ministry that won’t be immediately noticeable (honestly, it’s a discussion about who to bribe), and both look up and blink at Harry’s question.

Harry is holding a thick fold of parchment, and his eyes are flat. He looks politely enough back and forth between Blaise and Theo, though, which makes Theo hope that the Howler isn’t destined for anyone here.

(Not that it wouldn’t be funny to watch one explode in Black’s face).

“I can teach it to you,” Blaise says slowly. “I’ve never used it myself, but my mother has, and I’ve watched her. But why do you need to send it? The papers are swinging back and forth between vilifying you and believing you about the Dark Lord right now. Do you want to—”

“It’s going to Dumbledore.”

Theo laughs.

“It still might not be the right move politically,” Blaise says, for all that the way his eyes sparkle says he agrees with Theo about how funny it would be. “If it reaches him in public, and he joins the vilification team.”

“I don’t care where it reaches him or who witnesses it or if it’s on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow. All that matters is that he knows I won’t tolerate him trying to turn my godfather against Theo.”

“I don’t think he’ll join any public movement against Harry,” Theo says, and Blaise raises an eyebrow. “He wants to control him too badly. Isolate him and convince Harry he’s the only trustworthy person in the world. He’ll probably shake his head and cluck his tongue if anyone witnesses the Howler and say something about how Harry’s a dear boy who’s been under too much stress, and then use that as part of his campaign.”

“Well, that’s a reason not to do it, then.”

“You’re the voice of reason, Blaise, and your reason has been noted.” Harry shifts a little, and Theo wonders if he’s grown that much taller with companionship and good food or if it’s just Harry using his new seriousness. “I still need you to teach me the Howler spell.”

Blaise looks at Theo as if thinking he might have a different idea, but Theo just shakes his head. He’s willing to give Harry advice, but also follow along when it’s necessary, and it looks like it is this time.

Blaise heaves a huge sigh and stands up. “All right, let’s go into the cellars so we can practice with an ordinary letter first. We don’t want to alarm anyone when it starts shouting.”

Harry smiles. “Thanks, Blaise.”

Blaise only shakes his head as he follows Harry. He seems to think that this is going to be a huge disaster, but he’ll do it anyway.

Theo is smiling as he turns back to his book. Harry has that effect on people.

*

“You could say it, you know.”

Theo doesn’t look up, but he can feel Lupin’s stare from the other side of the table. But he still doesn’t say anything. Theo tucks a scone into his mouth and chews, then frowns and sits back in his chair. “Cassie!”

With a shimmer of air, his house-elf appears in front of him. “Master Theo is being testy.”

“These scones taste like you made them with sawdust. Why is that?”

“Cassie is thinking Master Theo should eat healthier.”

Theo massages the space between his eyes with one hand, while Lupin watches in bewilderment. Sometimes Cassie gets this idea into her head, but most of the time, she manages good food while also making what’s healthy. “Use the good ingredients, please.”

“The good flour is being more expensive.”

“We aren’t hurting for Galleons, Cassie.”

They spend a long moment in a staring contest, before Cassie sighs and pops away again. Theo shakes his head and returns to sipping his pumpkin juice, which at least Cassie hasn’t messed with. She thinks that’s healthy enough.

“No one watching you interact with your house-elf would think…”

Theo looks up at Lupin with a smile that he deliberately makes thin. “What? That I killed my father?”

Lupin flinches and nearly knocks over his teacup. Then he sits back and folds his arms. Theo sees his hands still trembling and shakes his head. No one would ever guess Lupin was a werewolf going purely on stereotypical behavior. “I was going to say ‘raised by a Death Eater,’ but yes, we can talk about how you killed your father.”

“Let’s not,” Theo says pleasantly. “I meant what I said earlier. You can talk to me about whatever’s bothering you, instead of staring at me out of the corner of your eye and starting guiltily when I look at you.”

“I do not—”

“You do. It’s annoying. Come on, ask it.”

“Very well. Do you think that allowing Harry to scold Sirius was the best idea? It’s put Sirius behind in his Mind-Healing, and he didn’t proactively contact Dumbledore and ask for memories that would make Harry doubt you, after all.”

“Allowing Harry. Interesting choice of words.”

“You know that you’re in charge of him.”

Theo begins laughing much the way he did when he heard about Harry sending a Howler to Dumbledore. Except it’s stronger this time, without a Harry in the room to impress, so he ends up sliding down in his chair and howling so hard that his chest hurts. Lupin sits there and stares at him in more bewilderment.

Theo sits up and shakes his head. “If you still think that, then it explains some of Black’s misconceptions, too. If anyone is in charge here, Harry is. Or do you think that I would have adopted a bunch of random people who wanted to come shelter in my house? Do you think that I would have allowed Weasley and Granger to see him ever again?”

“They’re his friends.”

“Yes, and they’ve proven that they can apologize and be loyal. But if I was in charge of Harry, they never would have seen him again, because I think that he’s put up with enough of their histrionics and disloyalty. And you and Black wouldn’t be here.”

Lupin folds his arms. “You—you know very well that Sirius spent years in prison—”

“Yes, and part of that was because of the incompetence of the justice system, which includes Dumbledore. You think he would have learned to distrust the Headmaster by now.”

“He was very young when he went to Azkaban—”

“Harry is younger. So am I.”

Lupin stares down at the surface of the table. Theo just watches him, offering no help. Honestly, he thinks that Harry could do better for a mentor than Lupin, just as he could do better for an adult to cling to than Black.

But that’s not Theo’s decision. It’s people like Dumbledore, and presumably Lupin and Black, who want to make those choices for Harry. All Theo can do is support Harry when he makes different ones.

Lupin finally swallows and says, “I’ll talk to Sirius.”

“You do that.”

*

“Are you sure that you want me to come with you?” Theo asks Longbottom, as they stand together in front of the Floo. “Not Harry?”

“Harry would—I don’t know that he would—”

Words are getting stuck in Longbottom’s throat. Theo stands and waits with an iron patience, and Longbottom finally forces them out. “Harry might feel that I should go live with my Gran again because she’s my family, and he thinks family is really important. You killed your dad. You won’t feel that way.”

Theo doesn’t think that Harry will feel that way, not after what Mrs. Longbottom tried to do to Theo when she came to the house, but he’s also glad that Harry agreed to stay firmly behind the Nott wards today. He shakes his head. “I’ll do whatever I need to do so you feel supported.”

“You would do anything like that for one of Harry’s friends.”

“Yes.” Even for Granger and Weasley, if Theo had to. Even for Black. Then again, he’s already done plenty of things for Black, who’s just ungrateful. He hopes that Longbottom knows better than that.

“I think the world should be relieved Harry’s got you on a leash,” Neville mutters, tossing some powder into the flames.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Theo rolls his eyes and follows.

*

“I have come to retrieve my grandson. There is no reason for him to stay with Nott. There are no relatives living in that house. In fact, Neville doesn’t have any relatives except me, his parents, and his Uncle Algie.”

Theo leans back against his chair and watches Mrs. Longbottom with lazy eyes. They’re discussing what Neville’s future should be in a room spelled with Mediation Charms, which mean that no one can get too angry and no one can attack each other. Mrs. Longbottom is saying, in a flat voice, what she actually believes.

It still doesn’t mean that she should get to take Neville away just because she wants to.

“Mrs. Longbottom,” says Auror Tonks, sitting on the side of the table where Neville is shaking in his own seat, “do you remember that you cast a curse at Theodore Nott that could have severely injured him? Do you remember that your grandson fled to Nott of his own free will?”

“It doesn’t matter. He should come home. He doesn’t have a reason to stay—”

“I invited him,” Theo says, glad that his state of mind goes along with the Mediation Charms. He wouldn’t get angry about this even if everything were normal. Mrs. Longbottom is pathetic, and she’s going to lose. “That’s enough reason for him to stay.”

“It’s reason enough for him to come home, if he’s a guest in someone else’s home. Longbottoms are not guests.”

“I don’t feel s-safe going back to Gran,” Longbottom announces. His voice is trembling in a way that would sound pathetic to Theo most of the time, and maybe the other people in the room, but right now it serves the purpose. If he can feel like that even through the Mediation Charms, it shows how afraid he is of his grandmother. “I w-want to stay with Theo.”

“You do know that he was a Death Eater’s son?” asks one of the other Aurors at the table. He introduced himself as Auror Fitzwilliam at the beginning of the hour and has done nothing but glare at Theo with cold eyes ever since. Theo has his doubts about how well the Mediation Charms took with him.

“Was.”

“What?”

“His father was a Death Eater. Now he’s not. And now Theo is safe. I want to go home.”

“We can go home, Neville, just as soon as—”

“I mean, I want to go h-home to Nott House.” Neville stands up, and there’s a defiant courage in his eyes that Theo can’t help but admire. “I want to go home and not be told that I’m not a shining example like my p-parents, and not have anyone yell at me because I w-want to spend time in the greenhouses. I’m not an Auror! I’m a gardener!”

“You can be an Auror,” Mrs. Longbottom snaps, and it sounds like she’s broken past the Mediation Charms that were cast on her. Theo sighs a little. He could have told the Aurors that would happen. “As soon as you get past these silly notions of—”

“I don’t want to be!”

The room abruptly rocks, the polished panels on the walls banging together and some of the portraits crying out. Theo hears hissed complaints that the Mediation Charms should make accidental magic impossible. He turns around and shakes his head at the Aurors.

“He’s terrified of his grandmother. Yes, accidental magic is unusual at his age and with the amount of magic on this room, but it’s not unusual when you consider that he would be forced back into an abusive environment. What’s the harm in allowing him to come home with me? I’m under more scrutiny than usual because Harry Potter is also living with me. It will be fine.”

Maybe the Aurors are just relieved that there’s one person whose Mediation Charms are working the way they’re supposed to, or maybe it’s Theo’s cool, emotionless argument, but they agree quickly. Neville and Theo are bundled back through the Floo, while the Aurors move in on an increasingly upset Mrs. Longbottom.

“I’m s-sorry.”

Theo blinks and looks up, still trying to find his mental balance from the charms that ended abruptly when he stepped back through the Floo. “What are you sorry for?”

“That I said I wanted to stay here. I know I’m a burden—”

“You’re not a burden. You’re Harry’s friend.”

“And yours?”

Theo would hesitate, but he can just picture the way Neville’s face will crumple if he does that. He doesn’t want to deal with tears. He nods. “Of course.”

Neville flings his arms around Theo. Theo stands there and stares straight ahead, then resorts to patting vaguely at Neville’s back. Neville pulls away, wipes his face with one hand, and retreats.

Theo does the same, all the way up to his room. Then he stands there and stares vaguely at the walls, wondering, What in Merlin’s name just happened?