Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Path Less Traveled	By : bezo93 Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 16680 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of the characters. I do not make any money from this fic.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
A/N: My laptop died today and the earliest I can get it fixed is the weekend, so I'm using my old iPad to post this chapter. If there are any formatting problems, that is probably why. If any problems do appear I'll fix them once my laptop is repaired.

A night’s sleep hadn’t left Harry any less annoyed. Normally he would talk to Hermione, who was always a voice of reason in these things, but talking via owl took a while and she hadn’t had chance to reply to his letter yet. Talking to other pack members wasn’t an option either, given who was involved, and talking to other demons was definitely out as most of them would be less than helpful as they tried to use the situation to their own advantage.

That only left one option.

“Sweet merciful Mother, I’m living the cliche! You do know I don’t serve alcohol, yes? And I wouldn’t add to the cliche by giving you any if I did,” Leena said, folding her arms and leaning against the counter as she watched Harry.

The demon couldn’t help but chuckle. It was true; add in a bar and a few strong drinks and it would be a classic ‘depressed patron seeks comfort from the understanding bartender’ scene. Minus the understanding bartender part. Leena, apparently, did not believe in pandering to emotions with kind words and comfort when sarcasm and mocking were still options.

“So, what caused this tragic breakup?” the dryad asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you two were best friends forever and ever, bonded over a terrible sense of humour and the maturity level of four year olds. Did he steal your cookies?”

Harry glared at her, the effect ruined by his twitching lips. “You’re terrible at this whole comfort and advice thing. I thought you were supposed to make me feel better?”

“I missed my classes on offering comfort; I was too busy mopping up the angst being dripped all over the floor. Advice I can do, sparingly. It is rather ironic that my tree is a weeping willow,” she smirked.

“I thought it was a birch?” Harry said, puzzled. The name on her business cards said Leena Birchwood.

“That is my name, it has nothing to do with what my tree is any more than your name dictates your career,” Leena explained with an eye roll. “Or do you have a ceramics business I am unaware of?”

“Well, no but-“

“Exactly. Now come on, tell me what’s happening between you and Timothy before your many admirers start invading my shop,” she said, moving over to the coffee maker as more people came in.

Harry sighed and summarised the situation for her.

“May the forests give me strength,” the dryad muttered when Harry was finished. “Ok, so, advice and comfort. There there, who’s a little soldier? That’s comfort sorted,” she said, patting a reluctantly amused Harry’s head. “Advice is a bit more challenging. Are you angry at Timothy or the situation? As much as I don’t like the idiot, Timothy was just following orders when he spoke to you the first time and he didn’t actually know who you were to care about how you felt about it. I doubt any later interactions were done under order - like it or not, you’re not that important and even Timothy has more important things to do that follow you around all the time. He may have kept an eye on you if ordered but he isn’t the type to befriend someone because he was told to.”

Harry blinked dumbly. He was used to talks like this being given gently by Hermione, not being bludgeoned with them by someone who didn’t care if he was offended or not. Leena looked at him expectantly, making him realised she actually wanted an answer to her question.

“Er. I guess I’m more angry at the situation?” he answered hesitantly. While he was hurt that Timothy hadn’t told him about Shax sooner, he more annoyed at once again having events orchestrated around him by people who felt it was ‘for his own good’, and frustrated with himself for not realising what was happening sooner.

“Because?” Leena prompted.

“Well, what you said,” Harry frowned. “Timothy was only doing as he was told by his boss when he first talked to me. That’s not really what I was angry about anyway; I was more angry that people are trying to control me again and he didn’t tell me.”

“So you’re angry at him for not going against his Alpha?”

“Well…” Harry’s frown deepened. Leena sighed long sufferingly.

“Does it really make any difference anyway?” she asked.

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to work out!”

Leena rubbed her forehead.

“Do I need to use sock puppets to get the message across? I thought these work-it-out-yourself Q&A sessions were supposed to make things easier? You are angry at Timothy because he is the most obvious target for your anger towards a situation you don’t like, that he is not actually the cause of. I think it is safe to say that your friendship is largely unchanged - the only difference is that you met by design rather than chance. If you really need to be angry at someone, there are better targets than Timothy. Be angry at the person responsible for the situation,” she said with a sigh.

“So you think I should be angry at Calvey?” Harry asked.

“No. I think you are overreacting and should just let it go. Nobody was trying to upset you and the whole situation came about because people were concerned about you. You clearly feel it is not over until you have someone to blame. So blame the cause of the mess and deal with it before someone slips and hurts themselves in that angst you’re leaking all over my shop.”

“You know, you were actually being sort of helpful right up until that part about the angst,” Harry said, amused despite himself. “So you’re saying I should go and shout at Shax and get it out of my system?”

“I don’t recall saying that but if that is what you do please let me know. I’ll bring popcorn,” Leena said with an evil grin. “Now shoo. I have things to be doing. I’m sure you can find one of my customers to bother.”

Laughing, Harry left, taking his coffee with him. Settling himself at an empty table he cautiously decided to try Advertising properly for the first time. He quickly discovered that when he was consciously trying to alter his pheromone release it was much easier to control the strength as well, letting out only a trickle of pheromones rather than the flood that had saturated him yesterday.

Suddenly recalling Aaron’s lecture about pack rules Harry swore quietly, scanning the cafe for any sign of one of the pack. He let out a relieved breath when he spotted the sisters Artemis and Nyx over in the corner. He wasn’t sure they were aware he was there but as long as they were around it should be enough to keep him out of trouble.

It didn’t take long for the pheromones to draw in dominants. They seemed more restrained than yesterday - Harry wasn’t sure if that was because there were less pheromones or because word about his hissy fit yesterday had spread - but he still quickly found himself being swamped.

“Everybody sit down and keep your hands to yourself,” he growled after enduring a few minutes of handshaking, shoulder squeezing and generally unwanted contact.

The dominants sat.

“Thank you,” Harry sighed. “I thought you lot had a hierarchy to prevent mob-the-submissive sessions?”

“We do,” one dominant offered, “but it’s not like we each get a sticker with our rank on it. We,” he gestured at the other five dominants sitting at the table with him, “are all on the same level, or thereabouts, so none of us can see off all the others.”

“Oh yay me,” Harry drawled. “You could try to make it sound slightly less like you are dogs fighting over a prime steak. If you are all staying, could you try to talk one at once? Talking to six people simultaneously is kind of difficult.”

“But then one person could monopolise your time,” objected another dominant. Harry gave him a dirty look.

“Then he would be saying something I am interested in hearing and I would thank the rest of you to have some manners and not butt into the conversation like simple minded horses,” he said disparagingly, irritated at the idea of his time being something they had a right to divide up between them without his input. “Clamouring at me like confused gnomes isn’t going to make me want to talk to you.”

Harry was starting to feel like he should hand out advice flyers: ’10 Ways To Talk To A Submissive Without Being An Ignoramus’. He had only been Advertising for a day and it already seemed like more trouble than it was worth. At least when he was Scouting dominants kept their hands to themselves.

“Ok,” he sighed. “Let’s try it one at a time. Introduce yourself and tell me a bit about you. If you have a problem doing it this way, feel free to leave.”

The teenager felt a bit ridiculous sitting there as six grown men introduced themselves, telling him their name, age and occupation. It felt more like he was conducting a job interview than trying to find the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

At least most of them had interesting jobs - there were some advantages to being so long lived, and having the time to gain the skills needed for more difficult career paths was one of them. Harry probably would have given up and gone back to the Leaky Cauldron if he had had to sit here and discuss what was happening in the Department of Overworked Underlings.

“What do you do in the Department of Mysteries?” he asked a dominant called Titus curiously. He would be the first to admit he knew nothing about the inner workings of the Ministry of Magic, but at least ‘Department of Mysteries’ sounded more interesting than ‘Department of Memo Regulation’ (which he still found it difficult to believe was really a thing).

“Predominantly research. I’m afraid I can’t give you any details or-“

“You’d have to kill me?” Harry joked.

The dominant looked alarmed.

“Of course not! I would have to obliviate you, certainly, but I’d give up my job before I would kill a submissive!” Titus said vehemently. Harry sighed but decided it wasn’t worth the effort to explain a muggle joke to someone who clearly had little experience of the muggle world.

“Never mind, it’s a muggle thing,” he said. A few of the other dominants looked amused, clearly familiar with the joke.

“Muggles kill people who they think know too much? I knew they were barbaric but that is appalling!” the dominant looked scandalised.

Harry wasn’t sure why; the Creature community knew more than they liked to admit about silencing people permanently to keep a secret. And after the last couple of school years, Harry knew muggles certainly didn’t have the monopoly on barbaric practices.

“They don’t usually,” he said. “They tend to prefer big conspiracies,” he added, swallowing a grin, unable to resist poking fun at Titus’s view on muggles. The entire ‘muggles are inferior beasts’ attitude irritated him. He may not have any particular love of muggles - the residents of Privet Drive had seen to that - but the idea that they were completely inferior to those with magic rubbed him the wrong way. Anyone with even a basic knowledge of muggles knew that their ‘handicap’ of being magicless had not prevented, or even slowed, their development as a society.

“Oh, I don’t know. Some of them can get pretty touchy about that Official Secrets Act and those hush-hush Black Ops missions,” one of the other dominants - Marcus - said with a mischievous grin, having picked up on Harry’s intentions. Harry couldn’t help grinning back.

“I think there are laws against MI6 just sending out someone to shoot you for knowing a secret,” the submissive deadpanned. “You have to stumble across, or be part of, a giant conspiracy first. Then they’ll send all the assassins they have after you,” he added.

“That’s barbaric!” Titus exclaimed.

“That’s Hollywood,” Harry said innocently as Marcus took a gulp of his drink to hide his grin.

A red-headed dominant, who wouldn’t have looked out of place amongst the Weasleys, rolled his eyes.

“I think Hollywood is too focused on potential velociraptor attacks to bother with conspiracy theories at the moment,” he said dryly.

Harry laughed.

“True. Jurassic Park does seem to be doing well,” he agreed. “I haven’t seen it myself, though I have seen a brilliant raptor replica at Fantastic Beasts. It would be cool to go and see it.”

“Why not go and see it now? I could take you,” Octavius, the red-head, offered. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Nice try,” he said dryly. The dominant shrugged, unrepentant.

Titus finally caught on to the joke, realising he was being mocked somehow. It had taken long enough, Harry thought. The dominant still didn’t understand exactly what the joke was, he just knew it was being made at his expense. He folded his arms and scowled.

“So if you can’t give me details, can you at least give me a hint about what sort of things you research?” Harry asked, taking pity on the sulking dominant.

Titus looked considering, torn between maintaining the secrets and air of mystery of his department or impressing Harry with his job. Eventually the desire to impress won out; the secrets were only relevant to wizards for the most part anyway and the Secrecy Oath they swore was not as binding as people expected.

“Well,” he said slowly, milking the mysterious nature of his department as much as he could. “I can’t say much, but I can tell you that my sub-department deal with the mind: how we interact with magic on a mental level and why the mind-arts work.”

“Mind-arts?” Harry asked blankly. He wasn’t aware that wizards could use mind magic beyond compulsion spells and some potions. He knew some Creature’s dealt heavily with mind magic and mental influence - vampires, incubi and veela coming immediately to mind - but it had never occurred to him that wizards may have developed mental magic of their own.

“Occlumency and Legilimency,” the dominant explained. “Neither are particularly well known or practiced any more amongst wizards - the mind-arts are one of their many dying arts. They require a high level of will power and focus, as well as a level of independent thinking that most wizards lack,” he said sneeringly.

“What do they do?” asked Harry curiously. He was learning more about the wizarding world in these last few days than in his entire time at Hogwarts.

“Occlumency is the defence of the mind. It primarily defends against Legilimency, as it is beyond wizards to imagine that they may not be the most talented race at whichever branches of magic they deign to try their hand at,” there was some nodding and a few disparaging remarks about the arrogance of wizards, “but the more skilled Occlumens could present a level of resistance to some weaker mental attacks by veela and the like.”

“So Legilimency is offensive mental magic?” Harry half-questioned.

“Yes, and even less frequently learned that Occlumency. Despite what semantic objections practitioners may make, Legilimency is essentially what muggles would call mind reading. It allows the caster to access the mind of another person and view snippets of their memories. For the most part it is a passive skill, allowing you to watch but not influence another’s mind,” Titus explained, enjoying Harry’s focused attention.

“How do you know if someone is using it?” Harry asked, wondering if it had ever been used on him. That could be rather problematic.

“Prolonged eye contact, sudden headaches, someone brandishing a wand in your face and screaming ‘legilimens’: it really depends on how skilled and subtle the caster is,” the dominant shrugged.

“It can’t be used against us, though,” one of the other dominants assured Harry, realising what was bothering the submissive.

Titus made a disagreeing noise.

“Of course it can. Some Creatures may have natural mental defences but we do not,” he said, too irritated at what he saw as another dominant trying to muscle in on his time with Harry to notice Harry’s worry and the other dominant’s attempts at reassuring the teen. The other dominant, Nero, scowled.

“Fine,” he bit out. “Techincally we are susceptible to it, but it still can’t be used to uncover secrets about our status as Creatures or any other secrets about Creatures. The protection of the Covenant prevents it,” he said glaring at Titus, daring the other dominant to contradict him and worry Harry further.

“That is true,” Titus conceded. “However relying on the Covenant’s protection alone would be a foolish way to protect your mind. It will protect secrets to do with Creatures but everything else would be as open as an untrained wizard’s mind.”

Marcus smirked. “Or I could rely on my drow ancestry to keep my mind safe. Not even a vampire can get through these natural shields without having to take a bite out of me first,” he said, tapping his temple.

“That’s hardly the same as Occlumency, thought, is it?” Titus snapped, annoyed at yet another dominant encroaching on his conversation with Harry and disputing his facts. “They shield against different things.”

“Yeah, but a drow - or someone carrying drow traits - learning Occlumency is like putting a padlock on your Gringotts vault in case someone turns up with lock-picks,” Marcus shrugged, winding Titus up further.

Harry watched in amusement as the argument between the two dominants escalated into a debate too complicated for Harry to understand. After a couple of minutes, the submissive concluded that the two wouldn’t be turning their attention back to him any time soon.

“So,” he said, looking at the blonde dominant sitting across from him, “while we wait for these two to remember the rest of us exist, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

It was a decision Harry quickly regretted. The blonde was polite and obviously keen to impress but he didn’t seem capable of holding a conversation about anything other than his job (running an alternative foods store and small apothecary somewhere in Cardiff) and quidditch. While Harry was as much of a quidditch fan as any teenage boy, there was only so long he could spend discussing the sport with a potential mate. A mutual enjoyment of quidditch was hardly something to base a mateship on (regardless of what Oliver Wood may tell people). Even attempts to discuss the blonde’s family or Harry’s time at Hogwarts somehow ended up coming back to quidditch or the shop.

The dominant sitting next to Harry seemed to find it highly amusing, ignoring Harry’s pleading looks to be rescued from the repetitive conversation and even offering occasional comments to keep the blonde dominant talking. Every time the blonde showed signs of ending the conversation the smirking dominant would ask a question, prompting another in-depth analysis of the League teams.

Eventually Harry gave into temptation and kicked him in the shin.

The yelp the dominant let out was extremely satisfying and completely worth the startled looked their table got from the rest of the cafe.

“You kicked me!” the dominant exclaimed.

“You were being a git and you knew it,” Harry retorted, folding his arms unrepentantly.

“I was only encouraging the conversation,” the dominant,Tobias, said with a pout that was oddly reminiscent of Timothy’s But-I-Was-Helping look.

“I’m not afraid to kick you again,” Harry warned, unable to prevent his lips quirking into a grin.

“I’ll kick you back,” Tobias threatened, returning the grin, ignoring the scandalised looks the other dominants were giving him.

“And here I thought you were all so dedicated to making sure my delicate, peach-like skin doesn’t bruise,” Harry teased, feeling more relaxed with Tobias than he had with the others. If the dominant had been a hundred or so years younger Harry would have thought he was Timothy’s brother, their personalities were so similar.

“Oh I was,” the dominant said with a faux-serious nod. “But then I saw how much of daredevil you are. Sitting in a cafe without an armed guard, how do you cope with the adrenaline rush? I guess I’ll have to throw out that protective, human-sized hamster ball I was going to keep you in if we ever became mates,” he said, hanging his head sadly and sighing.

“If you have human-sized hamster ball I forbid you from throwing it out,” Harry laughed. “I’ll make sure I always wear it when I attend dangerous classes, like potions. It might affect my performance some but I’m sure the Professor won’t mind. It’s for my safety after all.”

The other dominants were watching the exchange with bemusement. This was not how they were used to submissives behaving, although Tobias’s unorthodox approach that many had condemned in the past and told him would keep him mateless for life seemed to be working wonders with the green eyed submissive.

Unfortunately Harry’s fun was cut short by the arrival of a disapproving Aaron. Any objections the dominant demons may have had to their time with Harry being encroached upon by an alpha werewolf were cut short by getting an up-close view of the sheer size of the werewolf. Dominant demons or not, Aaron was seven feet of alpha werewolf with the muscle to match and he currently looked displeased - even six against one, they would avoid a fight if they could.

“Harry, do you recall out conversation last night about rules?” the Second asked, ignoring the other demons entirely.

“Er, most of it? It was kind of long,” Harry replied honestly. Aaron gave him a look that conveyed precisely how well pleading ignorance as an excuse was going to work.

“Hmm, and I don’t suppose one of the thing you do remember happens to be the rule regarding meetings such as this?” the behemoth asked, giving a significant look to the listening demons. The dominants wisely decided that now would be a good time to make themselves scarce, slipping away with quick farewells to Harry.

The submissive barely acknowledged them as he looked around the cafe with a sinking feeling. Artemis and Nyx had disappeared at some point and, as far as Harry could see, there were no other pack members around.

“There should always be a pack member nearby when I’m meeting dominants,” Harry answered when Aaron made an expectant noise.

“And do you have anyone with you in case of trouble?”

“No. But Artemis and Nyx were here earlier!” Harry protested.

Aaron gave him a skeptical look.

“Were they aware you were counting them as your protection?” he asked. He very much doubted it. Nyx may be irresponsible enough to wander off during a duty like that but Artemis never would.

“Well, no…but they were still here,” Harry argued half-heartedly. He didn’t need to look at the Second to that argument wasn’t going to fly.

As expected Aaron simply raised an eyebrow, completely unswayed by the protest, and instructed, “Come with me.”

Reluctantly Harry followed the werewolf out of the cafe and deeper into Knockturn, mentally kicking himself for getting into trouble less than twelve hours after his adoption. He didn’t want the Alpha to think he didn’t appreciate his acceptance into the pack.

Keeping up with Aaron’s long legs had Harry practically jogging behind the large werewolf as they made their way to the pack’s apartment block. Rather than take him to the residential side of the grounds, Aaron guided Harry over to a small common room, keeping one massive hand on the young demon’s shoulder as he steered him past the few gathered werewolves.

“In trouble already puppy?”

Harry stiffened as he heard Rikin’s sneering tone.

“Couldn’t even make it a day before acting out. I told you a non-werewolf has no place in a pack. Maybe the Alpha will see sense and get rid of you,” the young werewolf continued.

Aaron didn’t even pause in his walk to his office, “I will be seeing you in my office next, Mr Hartford.”

“In trouble again, puppy?” one of the watching werewolves smirked at Rikin. “As far as I remember it took you less than an hour to get into trouble when the Alpha accepted your lot. A day later you’d been grounded, hadn’t you? Having to babysit you is the worst job the Alpha ever gave me.”

Rikin flushed angrily but Aaron cut in before he could retort.

“Enough. If you cannot maintain a civil attitude while together then separate and find other ways to occupy your time. Rikin, do not even think about it,” he added as the young werewolf stood up to leave. “If you are not sitting here waiting when I finish with Harry I will escort you straight to the Alpha, and you can explain to him why you went missing again.”

Sulkily Rikin dropped back into his chair, ignoring Andrew and Leo as they tried to coax him out of his tantrum. With a small, exasperated sigh Aaron unlocked his office door and gently pushed Harry inside.

“Please don’t take Rikin’s words to heart,” the Second said as he guided Harry to a seat. “Prior to being bitten he led a rather…privileged lifestyle and the adjustment to pack dynamics was a rather large culture shock. He still finds it difficult to adjust to newcomers.”

“So he’s a spoilt brat who spits his dummy out every time something doesn’t go his way and you just let him be a git to everyone,” Harry muttered resentfully, thinking of Draco Malfoy and all the times the pampered Slytherin had gotten off lightly despite instigating fights, and Dudley Dursley who could do no wrong in his parents’ eyes despite numerous school reports to the contrary.

Aaron gave him a disapproving look, making Harry hunch his shoulders. The pack Second had mastered the I’m-Disappointed-In-You look that Dumbledore always strived for when giving someone a telling off disguised as a meaningful talk.

“As much as I will not allow Rikin to make snide comments about you, you may not make them about him. How the Alpha and I choose to discipline other pack members is not your concern,” the Second said sternly.

“But he’s a complete git to Rick and nobody does anything!” Harry protested, his tone less angry and more upset than he had intended.

Aaron softened slightly. “Yes, it has recently come to our attention that Mr Hartford has been behaving in an unacceptable manner towards Mr Milton. That was an oversight on our part and we doing what we can to rectify it. However,” and the stern look was back in his eyes, “pack discipline is not your responsibility. If you have concerns you will inform us and we will deal with it as we see fit.”

Harry nodded reluctantly. Relying on those in positions of authority had never worked for him in the past but he wasn’t going to push the issue. Not when he was already in trouble.

“Now, we didn’t come here to discuss your packmates,” Aaron said, sitting forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You know which rule you broke?” he waited for Harry’s nod before continuing. “Do you know why you should not have been alone when meeting unfamiliar dominants?”

“Because you told me not to,” Harry said. People made rules and you either obeyed them or were punished, that’s all there was to it as far as Harry was concerned.

Aaron sighed. “While it is important for you to follow the rules we put in place, there is more to the reason why than simply ‘because we said so’. Why do you think we want you to have someone with you when meeting dominants?”

“For my safety?” Harry answered, making an educated guest. In his experience rules fell into one of two categories: safety and discipline. The Dursleys had only ever given him rules in the hope that he would break them and earn a punishment. It was only a few lectures from teachers and Hermione that had introduced him to the concept of rules that were in place to keep him safe, though they seemed to believe that most rules were for his own good.

“Hmm, I would be more convinced that you understood if you had not chosen the most ambiguous answer possible,” Aaron said mildly, a little concerned that Harry did genuinely seem to think that the rules had been put in place for the sake of it. “At least this makes finding an appropriate punishment simpler.”

Harry shifted nervously. While he doubted the pack would agree with Vernon Dursley’s ideas of appropriate punishment, he didn’t really know what was considered a normal punishment outside of school - he could hardly be given a detention or lose points.

Aaron was watching the young demon’s reactions carefully, taking note of everything he would need to tell the Alpha later. He hadn’t seen Domovoi since the Alpha had disappeared with Shax last night but he knew the Alpha would want an update how Harry was settling in, and so far the Second had a few concerns.

Pushing aside those concerns for the time being, the pack Second addressed Harry’s punishment.

“As you do not appear to understand the reasoning behind the rules we have set, you will write out all the potential dangers posed by meeting unfamiliar dominants alone, how those dangers may be abated by having a packmate in the vicinity, and conclude with why you think the rule is in place,” he told the demon, who looked torn between relief that it wasn’t something worse and disgust at the thought of writing another essay when he had only just finished his homework.

“How long does it need to be?” he asked, resigned to spending the next couple of hours working on it.

“As long as is needed for you to cover everything you can think of. I am not testing your essay writing abilities. You don’t even have to write in full sentences if it is easier to bullet point your thoughts. I simply want to ensure you honestly think about it, and having you write those thoughts down is the simplest way of doing so,” Aaron explained. He had quickly come to the conclusion that Harry responded best to explanations of why he was being asked to do things, rather than bull-headed insistence that he do as he is told. It seemed that the teenager wasn’t accustomed to receiving explanations but once he had them he was much more agreeable.

Harry nodded slowly. He wasn’t convinced that this would work the way Aaron thought it would but at least it would be more useful than writing lines or completing menial tasks while he ‘thought about his behaviour’. There was, however, one glaring problem he could see.

“What if I can’t think of anything to write?” he asked worriedly. It was bad enough he had gotten into trouble so quickly, he didn’t want Aaron thinking he was shirking his punishment too.

“I’m sure you will be able to think of at least one or two things to write,” Aaron said. “If you honestly cannot think of even one reason why meeting dominants alone could be dangerous then come back here and tell me, and we will discuss it.”

Privately Aaron thought that if Harry genuinely couldn’t think of even one thing to write then they had much bigger concerns than an incomplete punishment.

“Ok,” Harry nodded, feeling more reassured than he wanted to admit.

“There is a small library just off the common room. There should be stationery for you to use in there. Send Rikin in as you leave,” the Second said, dismissing him.

§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§

Three hours later Harry dropped his pen and stretched. The essay Aaron had given him had been more useful than he had anticipated. After spending the first hour staring blankly at the parchment, wondering what he was supposed to write, ideas had gradually come to him until he had managed to fill over a foot of parchment. While he still thought it was overkill to be accompanied by a packmate at all times, he did have a better idea of why Aaron and Domovoi thought it was necessary.

Gathering his essay and making sure the desk he had been working at was tidy, the demon made his way back to Aaron’s office. The common room was busier than it had been earlier, with a few tired looking werewolves complaining about having to pull all-nighters.

“He might not answer. He’s with the Alpha,” one of the exhausted looking werewolves said as Harry knocked on the office door. He really could have done without knowing that, Harry thought, suddenly feeling nervous as he heard a shout to come in.

Entering the office he handed the parchment to the Second, glancing unsurely at Domovoi. The Alpha offered him a nod of greeting before sitting back to watch Aaron read through Harry’s work.

Aaron found himself pleasantly surprised by the essay. It was obvious that Harry had put effort into it, which was more than some pups would have done, and to his relief after the conversation they had had earlier, it seemed the demon did understand the risks posed by meeting unfamiliar dominants alone. That, however, did not mean the submissive completely agreed with the rules he was given, Aaron thought, raising an eyebrow as he reached the conclusion of the essay.

Reading over Aaron’s shoulder, Domovoi chuckled.

“It was going well until ‘the result of dominants’ obsessive mother-henning’,” the Alpha said, fortunately looking more amused than annoyed.

Harry flushed. He had gotten a bit fed up towards the end and hadn’t really considered that someone would be reading what he wrote as he finished his conclusion. Now that he thought about it, it would have been easy for the two alphas to take offence at the last few comments.

“Your belief that we are overreacting aside, you seem to have a better understanding of our reasons now than you did earlier,” Aaron concluded. “I trust this means you won’t forget again?”

Harry agreed but added, “Do I really have to when I’m at Leena’s? It’s not like she’d let them do anything anyway.”

“For now the rule applies everywhere. If I change my mind I’ll let you know but don’t hold your breath,” Domovoi said gruffly. While he could see Harry’s point about it being a bit excessive he had no plans to change anything: better overprotective than regretful if something did happen.

“I believe Timothy and Richard are at Timothy’s flat, if you would like to join them. Or there are a number of people in the common room. Go where you wish but don’t leave the apartment complex alone,” Aaron said, waving a hand towards the door.

Taking the hint, Harry left. Deliberating for moment he decided to go and find Rick and Timothy. He was no longer as angry with Timothy as he had been, thanks to Leena, but he wasn’t sure he had completely forgiven the werewolf for not telling him sooner.

“Harry!” Rick exclaimed happily as he yanked open Timothy’s door. “Where’ve you been? Lukas said Aaron sent him to get you this morning because me and Timothy were busy but he left you at Leena’s and no-one we asked had seen you since then - well, Artemis said she saw you talking to Leena but she left before you so she doesn’t know where went after and you weren’t there when we looked, so where were you?”

Harry stared at him, momentarily stunned by the avalanche of words.

“In the little library next to the common room,” he answered after taking a moment to process Rick’s babble.

“Really? Why?” Rick asked curiously.

“I may have slightly, maybe, got myself into trouble this morning,” Harry grinned, finding the situation more amusing than worrying now that he knew the Alpha and Second weren’t angry with him.

“Getting into trouble already? Rebel,” Rick teased, making Harry chuckle.

“Rebel and proud,” the demon smirked. “Now are you going to let me in or are we going to stand in the doorway all day?”

“Oh, yeah, come in,” Rick said stepping back to let Harry through, having only just realised he was blocking the doorway.

“Harry,” Timothy greeted warily from the sofa. The demon didn’t seemed as angry as he had last night but the werewolf didn’t want to push his luck.

“Hello Timothy,” Harry said a little stiffly, leaving Timothy with no doubt that he was still annoyed but hopeful that he wasn’t as angry as the night before.

Rick seemed oblivious to the tension between the two - or maybe he was deliberately ignoring it, Harry wasn’t sure - as he chivvied the demon over to a seat and went to get him a drink.

“Would it help if I apologised?” Timothy asked as Rick rummaged in the cold cupboard.

“Probably not,” Harry said honestly. “Would you mean it if you did?”

Timothy shrugged, “Not really. I am sorry that it upset you but I’m not sorry about following orders from my - our - pack sponsor.”

Harry nodded. He hadn’t really expected anything different after his talk with Leena.

“So what are we doing?” Rick asked as he handed Harry a drink and, to Harry’s surprise, a sandwich. “What? You don’t eat enough,” he told Harry when noticed the demon’s surprise.

“I eat. I’m just naturally skinny,” Harry grumbled, accepting the sandwich. Rick gave him a skeptical look.

“Eat,” he instructed.

Rolling his eyes Harry obeyed, demolishing the sandwich in quick bites.

“So, plans?” Rick asked again, glancing between Harry and Timothy.

Harry shrugged, swallowing the last of the sandwich.

“I don’t know. I was going to spend the rest of the day hanging around Leena’s, talking to dominants but it feels like that’s all I’ve been doing lately,” the demon said, looking to Timothy for ideas. The werewolf looked thoughtful.

“You fly, don’t you? We could go to the broom park. I’ve not had a chance to fly for a while,” he suggested.

“A broom park?” repeated Harry quizzically.

“You know, like a muggle skate park but for flying,” Timothy explained.

“They have those?”

“Of course. Where do you think people go when they want to fly? Most people don’t own enough land to fly at home and we can hardly go for a fly around the block when there are muggles about,” Timothy said, surprised that Harry didn’t already know.

“That’s…actually a really good idea,” Harry said, impressed. Rick snorted.

“Yes, wizards have been known to have those occasionally. Not often, mind, but it happens,” he said. “So are we going?”

“Yeah!” Harry said enthusiastically. “If you want to,” he added quickly, looking at Rick.

“As long as you don’t mind being terrorised by my awful flying skills,” Rick grinned.

“Come on then. We’ll see if Edson wants to come too,” Timothy said, standing and stretching. “We’ll never hear the end of it if we go flying and don’t invite him.”

Edson was surrounded by sheaves of paper and rolls of parchment when they found him, glaring at numbers scrawled across a page and muttering about ‘thieving goblin bastards’. With a longing look at the broom in Timothy’s hand, he reluctantly declined their offer but said that he would join them if he finished soon.

By the time they got to the Leaky Cauldron to pick up Harry’s broom, Harry was practically vibrating with excitement. It had never occurred to him that there might be somewhere he could go to fly during the holidays. When he had stayed with the Weasleys they had stuck to flying in the orchard and nobody had suggested going anywhere else.

“Apparate or floo?” Rick asked as he started to lead the way out of Harry’s room. When no-one answered he turned to see Timothy gaping at Harry’s broom.

“You have a Nimbus 2000?” he said weakly. “You’re thirteen! Even Edson doesn’t have a Nimbus and he lives and breathes flying!”

“I got it in my first year when I got onto the team. It’s not that impressive,” Harry said uncomfortably. “The entire Slytherin team have 2001’s.”

Timothy looked like he might faint.

“2001’s?” he repeated, giving Rick a desperate look. “I want to go back to Hogwarts. Why weren’t top of the line brooms being handed out like sweets when I was there?”

“Don’t look at me,” Rick said. “I didn’t even go to Hogwarts. I didn’t have a broom either, until recently.”

“Is it Hufflepuff’s turn to get top of line brooms this year? If Hufflepuff get Firebolts I demand you bring me one. I’m an alumnus, dammit, I deserve one too!” Timothy insisted to Harry.

“I really doubt anyone is going to buy the entire Hufflepuff team Firebolts. Slytherin only got 2001’s because Malfoy had to buy his way onto the team,” Harry said with an eye roll. “But,” he added before Timothy could protest, “I promise that if anyone gets a Firebolt this year I’ll tell you who they are so you can pester them into letting you drool over it.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “I pity the poor soul who gets a Firebolt if that is the fate awaiting them,” he said. “Now. Park? Apparate or floo?”

“Apparate,” Harry said quickly. “I hate flooing.”

“Apparition it is.”

The broom park was even better than Harry had imagined. A large part of it was exactly how the teenager had imagined it would be: a large, grassy field with a few goal hoops for games of pick-up quidditch and a smaller, cordoned off area for young children on toy brooms. In addition to this was both an amateur sized quidditch pitch and a smaller five-aside pitch. However the thing Harry was most looking forward to trying was the racetrack around the perimeter of the park.

With a starting point hovering forty feet up, the racecourse consisted of an undulating series of obstacles continuing in a large oval around the perimeter of the park until the finishing point, which hovered twenty feet above the starting platform. The obstacles contained everything from hoops to fly through, to series of poles to weave around, over and under, to targets hovering less than five feet off the ground that needed to be tapped as the racer passed by. Some of the obstacles could be up to a hundred feet in the air. To Harry it was a goldmine of the kind of flying usually deemed too dangerous to do at Hogwarts.

“Hold it,” Timothy said, grabbing Harry by the scruff as the teen made to head straight for the racecourse. “You’re not going near that thing until I’ve seen you fly. Domovoi would have my hide.”

“Youngest Seeker in a century. I’m really, really good at flying, I promise. Please let me go?” Harry tried hopefully, giving Timothy a wide-eyed pleading look.

Timothy snorted.

“Domovoi scares me far more than puppy eyes will ever be able to persuade me,” the werewolf said, hauling Harry over to a relatively empty corner of the field. “Now stop arguing, get on your broom and we’ll know soon enough if you’re good enough to not get yourself killed on the racecourse.”

“What do you want me to do?” Harry sighed, mounting his broom and hovering in the air.

“You play for your House team, don’t you? Run through all your warm-up exercises. That way I know you’re unlikely to pull something either.”

Harry looked at him dubiously.

“All of them or the ones most people use?” he asked.

“What’s the difference?”

“An Oliver-style warm-up ensures we’re prepared for everything short of a dragon invading the pitch. It’ll also take until midnight. A normal-person warm-up is what sane people do before a match,” Harry clarified.

“You really weren’t kidding when you called him a fanatic, were you?” Timothy marvelled. “Normal warm-up, then, though at some point I want to see the fanatical warm-up too.”

Nodding, and ignoring the last comment in the hope the werewolf would forget about it, Harry kicked off to start the first of a series of laps, short dives and quick-turn exercises. Making a point to the observing werewolves he deliberately made his laps a little faster, dives a little steeper and turns a little sharper than normal to show off what he could do. When he finally landed back in front of Timothy he was much warmer and grinning like a loon.

“Do I pass?” he asked in an overly sweet tone.

“Keep up the attitude and you’ll be in with the toddlers,” Timothy replied in an equally sweet voice. “You pass. Stay off the level three course - the stuff in red - until you’ve got to grips with the first two levels. And don’t even think of ‘sneaking’ on when I’m not looking,” he added warningly when Harry gave him an innocent look. “I will notice and I will confiscate your broom until you go back to school.”

“Fine, baby steps only,” the demon groused, folding his arms. “Anything else? Maybe I should wear a suit of armour in case I bang my elbow?”

Timothy raised an eyebrow at the teen’s attitude. He knew Harry still wasn’t happy with him after discovering that he had been acting on Shax’s orders when they originally started talking, but he wasn’t about to let the pup injure himself in a fit of rebelliousness. Whether Harry liked it or not, Timothy was the more senior pack member and was more than capable of pulling rank when it was needed. Wrapping one giant hand around the handle of Harry’s broom, he waited until the teen looked at him.

“I don’t care how angry you are at me, you will obey the rules I put in place for your safety. If you don’t listen and decide to do something stupid to spite me we will be back on pack grounds and in the Alpha’s office before your head has stopped spinning from the apparition. You’ll be explaining to him why you thought you were above rules put in place by a senior pack member. And believe me when I say you’ll be lucky if he lets you step foot out of the courtyard if he thinks you don’t take your own safety seriously,” the werewolf said, his face showing exactly how serious he was.

Behind him Rick watched silently, hoping Harry would recognise that Timothy was never going to joke around when it came to Harry’s safety. No pack member would.

“Fine, I get it. Stay away from the red obstacles and no stupid stunts. I’ll be good. Can I go now?” Harry snapped. He wanted to be angry and rebel against the limitations on his freedom but part of him - the part that wasn’t currently sulking at Timothy or chaffing at the loss of the autonomy he usually enjoyed away from the Dursleys - recognised that the werewolf was not being unreasonable. The rules were all things he could imagine Mrs Weasley giving to one of her many children - restrictions put in place to keep them safe, not to stop them having fun, unlike the Dursleys’ many rules. But just because Harry knew that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Once he got to the racecourse his scowl quickly melted away to be replaced by a grin. Looking out from the starting platform the course looked even more impressive than it had on the ground. In one corner of the platform was a sign containing a map of the course; an explanation of each obstacle and how it should be passed; and a key showing the obstacle colours - red, blue and yellow - and their corresponding difficulty level - three, two and one respectively. Underneath the sign was a smaller notice announcing that with advanced booking black, silver and gold level obstacles could also be provided for team training upon presentation of appropriate qualification certificates.

Opposite the sign were bins containing coloured bibs that flyers were required to wear while on the course. Grumbling a bit over the unfairness of being restricted to level two Harry plucked up a blue bib, starting when a roll of parchment and a self-inking quill appeared in front of him. The parchment contained a document reading:

Colour: Blue
Flying Level: Amateur - Intermediate
Flyer may use obstacles: Yellow, Blue
Flyer must give way to: Red, Black, Silver, Gold

By signing this document and flying on the course, the Flyer declares that they are 11 years of age or older, have appropriate flying experience for a course of difficulty level: Blue, and agree to abide by the Rules and Guidelines of Broomstick Racing, Ed. 4, IBRS (1990). (An overview of the guidelines may be seen at starting platforms of all IBRS sanctioned courses. A full copy may be viewed for free upon request at any IBRS sanctioned course or purchased for 5 knuts)

Please tick the box below if you would like your course results to be recorded and held for possible viewing by IBRS Team Scouts. (Copies of recorded results may be requested by the Flyer. Result records may be destroyed at any time by sending an owl to IBRS Records)

Signed:

Grinning, Harry checked the box and signed his name. He didn’t care about being scouted but it would be amusing to have a record of his results to rub in Malfoy’s face; concrete proof that regardless of how much money and how many tall tales Malfoy had, Harry was the better flyer. He would just have to work on getting Timothy to let him try the red course so there was no way Malfoy could dispute the results.

With the document signed and the blue bib donned, Harry made his way to the edge of the platform. A thrill of excitement curled in his stomach as he peered over the edge. Thirty feet seemed a great deal higher standing at the top and looking down. From where he was Harry could see that there were only a handful of people on the racecourse, most wearing yellow bibs. As much as he loved quidditch, the demon couldn’t understand how people could choose the relatively sedate game over the opportunity to fly on a course like this. The course was like all his favourite parts of quidditch rolled into one, with nothing to detract from the sheer joy of flying.

His first lap was slow as he figured out where each obstacle was and how to manoeuvre through them. Some of the obstacles were much tricker than they looked: such as the horizontal poles that had to be circled, requiring a barrel-roll while doubling back on himself if he wanted to pass through them quickly; and the zigzag between parallel rows of eight targets that had to be tapped, that were much closer together than they looked from the ground, and had bludger-like projectiles ricocheting between them which Harry hadn’t noticed until he was in the middle of them. Overall it was far more challenging than he had anticipated.

Harry loved it.

His second round was much faster and his third round took less than half the time his first round had. By the time he had completed his third run he was very grateful for the refreshments stand on the finishing platform. He collapsed gratefully into a seat. He planned to do at least one more run before going to find Timothy and Rick but first he was going to sit here on the nice, quiet finishing platform and try not to sound too much like a dying hippogriff as he got his breath back.

He really should have known better than to expect it to remain quiet for long.

“You’re a very impressive flyer,” an unfamiliar voice said, the owner of the voice sitting in the chair next to Harry’s and resting his broom against the chair-arm.

Harry cracked one eye open to glare at the newcomer.

“I’m completely sure I’m not Advertising right now,” he told the dominant pointedly, glad his breathing had returned to normal already. The last thing he wanted was to be gasping for breath as he talked to the intruder.

“You aren’t,” the dominant agreed.

“Then you are here because?” the teen asked, too high on the excitement of his recent flight to really get angry but wanting the dominant to know he was not pleased.

“I work for a broom manufacturer. I come here to test new models,” the dominant explained casually.

Opening both eyes and straightening up, Harry looked curiously at the broom propped up between them. Sure enough, it wasn’t any model Harry recognised, though it closely resembled some of Comet’s Pegasus series - known for their smooth ride but sometime unpredictable in adverse weather conditions. However, the submissive demon was not about to allow himself to be distracted by a sneak-peek at Comet’s potential new release.

“That’s nice,” he nodded agreeably. “It still doesn’t explain why you invited yourself over here.”

“We’re in a public venue, it’s not my fault if we happen to cross paths,” the dominant defended.

“There are plenty of other seats you could have chosen to use,” Harry pointed out.

“So I wanted to talk to the pretty submissive who has caught everyone’s attention. Is that really such a crime?” the dominant said, giving up any attempt to pretend the meeting was pure chance.

“Fortunately for you, a loophole in the Law says no. And I am not pretty,” Harry growled. “At the very least you could have had the manners to ask if you could join me, first.”

“But that would have required me to approach without permission to ask permission. Better to go the whole way and simply invite myself - at least I was guaranteed to get a chance to talk this way,” the dominant smirked. “And I do think you’re pretty, especially all flushed and scowly like that.”

Harry glared at him. Snatching up his broom, the submissive had launched himself off the platform and though the racecourse exit before the dominant had registered him leaving. He didn’t look back to see if the dominant was following but quickly found Timothy and Rick. Unsurprisingly the werewolves had found a spot where they could easily see who was coming and going from the racetrack and could watch Harry’s attempts at flying the course.

“What happened to you?” Timothy asked, surprised by Harry’s sudden appearance and obvious agitation.

“Some idiot dominant decided to invite himself over to talk. He didn’t seem to be taking the hint that I didn’t want him around, so I left,” Harry explained, catching the quaffle Rick threw at him. He was pretty sure the werewolf had been aiming for Timothy, not him, but Rick was living proof that being a werewolf did not necessitate good hand-eye coordination.

Harry physically leaving the dominant’s presence had apparently been too subtle a clue. The teen had barely had time to toss the quaffle back at Timothy before the older demon found them.

“Oh for fucks sake, would you piss off?” Harry growled as the dominant came to a stop in the air next to him, less than an arm’s length away.

“Don’t be like that,” the dominant said with a hopeful grin. “We barely got a chance to talk.”

“In case you missed it, my leaving was a hint that the conversation was over. I swear to Merlin, if you touch me I will hex you so hard you won’t be able to sit on that broom!” he threatened as the dominant reached towards him.

“You’re cute when you’re being all fierce,” the dominant said with the same condescending, indulgent grin he’d had the entire time. Ignoring Harry’s threat the dominant leant over to brush a hand through the submissive’s hair and squeeze his shoulder.

Timothy moved to intervene but barely had a chance to turn his broom before Harry had his wand out. It was really quite fortunate for the dominant that, thanks to Rick’s poor flying skills, they were barely eight feet off the ground, as he let out a howl and collapsed sideways off his broom. The noise he was making attracted the attention of one of the park’s medi-wizards, who made his way over looking concerned.

“He’s ok,” Harry said with a grin, stifling a chuckle. “He just misjudged the landing after a drop-dive. Overbalanced and landed in a delicate position.”

“Oh,” the medi-wizard looked down at the whimpering figure, who had curled into a ball, and gave a sympathetic wince. “Ouch. Not much I can do about that, I’m afraid, unless he wants an icepack?”

For some reason Harry seemed to find this inordinately amusing.

“No, thank you,” Timothy said when it became clear the demon was giggling too much to answer. “I think he’s had enough of flying for one day. We’ll just be heading home.” He looked down at the dominant’s pale face. “Well, once he can stand up, anyway.”

Satisfied that he was not needed the medi-wizard nodded and flew back to his post. As soon as he was gone, Harry stopped stifling his chuckles and clutched his broom as he laughed.

“You should have let him have the icepack,” the submissive said with an evil grin.

“What did you do to him?” Timothy asked, hauling the still groaning demon to his feet and making him limp towards the apparition point. If they stayed much longer the medi-wizard would return and insist on examining the injured demon.

“It’s a spell Angelina Johnson teaches to every submissive she meets,” Harry said with a slightly demented grin. He held onto Rick’s arm as Timothy side-alonged the dominant, landing just outside the gates to the pack’s home.

“I suddenly feel as though I should be afraid of the next generation of omegas,” Timothy mused, letting the demon drop to the floor again as he tapped the gate with his wand.

“The spell is called Blue Balls,” Harry said, thoroughly enjoying the wince both werewolves gave. “Invented by submissives, for submissives - a protection against dominants who don’t respect the word ‘no’. From what I was told, it has an effect that is like being hit in the nuts, hard, and then having them encased in ice - but with none of the numbing that real ice eventually causes. It also causes a quite literal and unpleasant case of blue balls,” Harry explained. “It doesn’t cause any physical damage though.”

Both werewolves had gone pale.

“I am never, ever, ever going near any of your Housemates. Ever,” Timothy said fervently as Rick nodded firmly in agreement. “When does it wear off?”

“The initial effects, after about fifteen minutes. The blue balls? Supposedly until either the caster lifts it or the victim ‘understands the error of their ways and is truly repentant’ but I think that just means it lasts for a long time,” Harry shrugged.

“Yeah, definitely staying away from your Housemates. I think you’ve just given me a complex about submissives,” Timothy shuddered.

“Was it difficult to learn?” Rick asked curiously, paying no attention to the horrified look Timothy was giving him. “It sounds like a complex spell. At least three activation tiers, a double-duration, not to mention a quadruple active effect with a slight body modification element which-“

“I don’t know how complex it is, though you’ve given me an idea. It was a bit difficult to learn but it was one of the first spells we were taught in first year - in House only, of course - so most people can do it by second year,” Harry shrugged.

“How do you practise it? Wouldn’t you need to cast it on someone to know it is working?” Timothy asked with morbid curiosity.

“That would be telling. I can’t give away all the House secrets,” Harry said, his evil grin reappearing.

“What House secrets?” Thomas’ voice broke in. Harry turned to see the tattooed werewolf standing behind the gate but making no move to open it. “Who’s that? And why do you two look like you’ve seen a dementor?”

“Our newest pack member is a dark hole of pure evil disguised as a fluffy haired harmless bundle of fun,” Timothy informed Thomas seriously.

“Okay,” Thomas said slowly. “Does that have something to do with why there is a demon on the floor clutching himself?”

“I did warn him,” Harry muttered.

“That you did,” Timothy agreed. “Although, I’m not sure any level of warning would have prepared him for what you did.”

“Maybe next time he’ll remember that ‘no, leave me alone’ means ‘no, leave me alone’.”

“I’m sure he will, if he ever has the balls to go near a submissive again - pun absolutely intended,” Timothy smirked.

“What did you do? Kick him?” Thomas asked curiously. Timothy grinned.

“Oh no. Our little Harry-pup here is more imaginative than that and knows some truly terrifying spells. He’s going to scare all the dominants away at the rate he’s going. He’s certainly proved that he won’t let them walk all over him,” Timothy said, smirking. Then something in his mind clicked and he started cackling - he wondered if he should warn Shax about Harry’s spell repertoire or if he should let the demon find out the hard way.

“You haven’t castrated or otherwise permanently maimed him, have you?” Thomas asked Harry with a sigh.

“What? No! He might feel like I have but there’s no damage. Except some bruising, maybe, but the ground was fairly soft,” Harry shrugged.

“Ok. Good. The paperwork should be bearable then,” Thomas said, looking exasperated that paperwork should be needed at all.

The dominant chose that moment to stir, seemingly recovered from the spell’s more debilitating effects. Harry and the werewolves watched as he gingerly climbed to his feet, none of them offering to help.

“You little bastard,” the dominant hissed, taking a step forward.

“I’m not sure what happens if you’re hit by that spell twice in less than half an hour but I’m willing to find out,” Harry warned.

“You uncouth little beast. I’ll make sure you regret this,” the dominant threatened with a growl, keeping his distance. Hyperaware of the three watching werewolves and wary of angering them - or Harry, as he had no desire to suffer the effects of that spell again - the dominant retreated down the small side-alley until he reached the main Alley. He gave one last threatening glare to Harry and limped away.

“Why do I get the feeling that’s not the last I’ll see of him?” Harry sighed.

“Because your luck seems to bounce between amazing and so terrible it’s almost a conspiracy?” Rick offered.

“You could contact the Demon Council about him,” Timothy suggested. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, beyond what he and Rick had witnessed, but if it was enough to make Harry hex someone then it was probably reportable.

Harry pulled a face.

“The Council is a last resort,” he said. “I’d rather not have to bother with them if I can avoid it.”

“If you prefer,” Timothy shrugged. “We still need to let the Alpha know.”

Domovoi took the news better than Harry expected. He had been expecting either a Mrs Weasley-esque reaction, full of smothering overprotectiveness, or annoyance at Harry causing yet more trouble so soon. Instead, the Alpha simply told Harry he would respect the demon’s decision not to inform the Demon Council - for now - and that he would have the pack keep an eye out for any trouble the dominant may try to cause.

Then he dropped half a ton of paperwork onto the desk. A least, it seemed that way to Harry as the teen stared at the pile in trepidation.

“Fill these out by tonight. Thomas will help you,” the Alpha said before dismissing the four of them.

Harry looked at the stack in dismay, giving Thomas a pleading look. With a sigh the tattooed werewolf flicked through the pile as they found chairs in the pack common room.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. Mostly just needs signing,” he declared after a moment. “You’re only a pup, and a first time offender, so a lot of the usual stuff isn’t needed. And you didn’t maim the guy - paperwork for that is a bitch.”

“There’s usually more?” Harry asked, looking askance at the pile of forms that was at least twenty deep.

“Yes, it seems to be the Congregations’ favourite method of reducing inter-race disputes. Nobody wants to get into a fight over something petty if they have to spend the next six weeks filling out forms and attending hearings,” Thomas shrugged.

“And our paper pushing friend here knows more about that than anyone else in the pack. Our own pack secretary,” Timothy said, patting Thomas on the shoulder.

“The consequences of a misspent youth,” Thomas said dryly. “I don’t think there are any of these forms that I haven’t had to do myself at some point.”

“So what do I need to do?” Harry asked, tentatively looking through a few of the forms. “What’s a non-prey permit?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, just tick no and no and sign the bottom,” Thomas instructed, digging a self-inking quill out of somewhere and handing it over.

Following Thomas’ instructions, Harry painstakingly worked his way through all twenty-six forms. If it hadn’t been for the amount of box filling and dotted line signing it would have been an interesting experience. It certainly gave Harry a better understanding of how the peace was kept between so many races, when each had such different philosophies; every other paragraph contained a reference or three to Covenant bylaws and Creature treaties.

To Harry the Creature Covenant had simply been the Creature equivalent of the Statute of Secrecy - only predating the Statute by several centuries and being much better written, thus more effective. Now he realised there was much more to it than simply keeping a secret, it governed several aspects of Creature society. He wondered if the wizards’ Statute was as complex.

“Probably,” Thomas said when Harry asked. “Maybe not quite as complex - they’ve only got one race to worry about while the Covenant covers all of us. Plus the Covenant has been around longer so likely has more amendments than the Statute. I’m not an expert on wizard law though. Or any law. I just know my way around the paperwork.”

With the paperwork completed and filed, Harry opted to spend the remainder of the day in (relative) peace with the pack. While an evening in with the pack was hardly quiet, it did give him respite from dominants jockeying for his attention. The most irritating person he had to deal with was Rikin, whose issues with running off at the mouth were swiftly solved by excessive and gleeful use of conjured duct tape.

When an exasperated Aaron emerged to unstick Rikin and berate the people responsible, Harry made a sneaky get away. He wormed his way into the middle of a group of werewolves who heading to muggle London, waving goodbye to a snickering Rick as he used the other werewolves to disguise his own exit. He had a feeling that Aaron was deliberately not watching him but as long as he got away without another lecture he was happy to be humoured by the Second.

The demon broke away from the werewolves once they reached the Leaky Cauldron, heading to his room as they left for muggle London. It had been an odd day but it had ended well. Now he just hoped Hermione had a chance to write back to him soon.

§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§

Aaron watched, looking exasperated but inwardly amused, as Thomas and Timothy debated the merits of duct tape as a disciplinary tool. Rikin was sitting in the corner nursing his bruised ego and ranting at length about the revenge he would have on Harry for instigating the duct tape mummification. The demon in question had not-so-subtly snuck out at the first signs of trouble - or rather, at the first signs of the restoration of order.

The pack Second half-turned as he sensed his Alpha approaching from behind. Domovoi took one look at Aaron’s face and the copious amounts of shredded duct tape lying around and shook his head.

“I don’t want to know,” the Alpha said as Aaron opened his mouth to explain. “Is Harry still here?”

“No, he snuck off while I was de-mummifying Rikin,” Aaron said.

For a brief moment it looked like Domovoi would give into temptation and ask for details. Instead he sighed and asked, “How is he doing? He clearly isn’t shy around his packmates,” he nudged a piece of tape with his foot, “but I haven’t had a chance to talk to him, other than the five minutes in your office earlier. Shax is running himself ragged.”

“Is there something we should be concerned about?” asked Aaron.

“An idiot pack sponsor who is inventing work for himself so he has an excuse to hide instead of talking to the submissive he likes,” Domovoi snorted. “And a Black sighting was reported near London, so the ministry idiots are panicking and getting in the way of Guild investigations. A work in progress and business as usual, respectively.”

“Is the Black sighting genuine?”

Domovoi shrugged one shoulder, “Don’t care either way. One Black Dog isn’t a threat. He’s the wizards’ problem, we just need to worry about how he got out.”

“Any progress on that front?”

The Alpha gave a negative grunt. “He didn’t alter or damage the wards. That’s all we know for certain.”

“Isn’t that confidence inspiring,” Aaron said dryly. Domovoi snorted in agreement.

“The Warders are scrambling. The Mercs and Acquisitions lot are quietly delighted, even if Shax is hiding it well behind all his bitching. There’ve been mutterings about going back to the old ways if the Warders can’t correct whatever went wrong.”

“Would you go back if that did happen?” Aaron asked cautiously.

“Not for all the gold in Gringotts,” the Alpha snorted. “I don’t mind consulting but I had enough of membership the first time round,” he said darkly.

Aaron wisely changed the subject.

“I have a name to go with Harry’s relatives,” he offered. “The Dursleys. However, on a less positive note, I also have concerns over Harry’s views on authority. I suspect Timothy’s suspicions regarding the boy’s home-life are correct.”

Domovoi growled quietly as he silently instructed his Second to explain.

“It appears that he does not have much concern for his own safety. Nor does he truly understand that rules are in place for his safety and not our amusement,” Aaron started.

“He’s a pup. Last I checked, authority and their own safety are low in their priorities,” Domovoi pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “I recall Rikin being particularly rebellious.”

“Normally I would agree. However, Harry’s attitude and response to his punishment lead me to believe this is more than simple rebellion.”

Domovoi frowned. “He seemed ok to me when he came back with that essay you made him write.” The Alpha snorted. “Also, an essay? Really?”

Aaron looked unfazed. “Yes, an essay. He can hardly do extra shifts at the bar and I sincerely doubt he would learn anything from a cuff around the head. How else do you suggest I get the lesson across?”

“You could have had him prune the bushes around the Run. If they get any more out of hand that dryad is going to start whining about invasive species again,” the Alpha grumbled.

“And what would that have taught him, other than when he breaks the rules we use it to our advantage?” the Second asked mildly. He didn’t take the Alpha’s criticisms to heart, knowing that this nitpicking and generally making a minor nuisance of himself was how Domovoi vented his frustration. The Second would choose the pestering any day when the other option was the Alpha bottling it all up until he snapped and took it all out on the unfortunate pack member who was the last straw. “Besides,” he added with an amused look, “at the rate Rikin and company are going, we are going to have a shortage of menial tasks to hand out. Tidying up the Run can be next on the list. It should be done before the next moon.”

“Speaking of Rikin, is there a reason he was wrapped in duct tape?” Domovoi asked, finally giving in to curiosity.

Aaron sighed long sufferingly, his annoyance belied by the corners of his lips twitching into a grin.

“Mr Potter is currently figuring out his standing in the pack hierarchy. Precisely why that involves mummifying his packmates, I am uncertain. However I suspect Mr Kirrin may have been an influence.”

Domovoi blinked.

“Does that even count?” he asked before he could stop himself. “I suppose technically it does count as subduing his rival but unless…” he shook his head. “Over fifty years of running a pack and this lot still manages to pull things I’ve never even considered before.”

“They certainly have a talent for creative problem solving,” Aaron agreed. “As for whether it counts as a victory for Harry, that remains to be seen. I have my doubts. Rikin may have been physically subdued but he certainly didn’t appear to be accepting Harry’s dominance or authority.”

Domovoi snorted. ‘Not accepting’ was an understatement. Murderous was more like it.

“As long as their rivalry stays harmless, leave them to it. They’ll sort it out faster if we’re not sticking our snouts in,” he decided. “Is anyone else causing problems?”

“Not a problem, per say, but some of the pups may bear watching. Their views on omegas appear to fall closer into those shared by veela than I am comfortable with,” Aaron said carefully.

Domovoi scowled. A rivalry was one thing - a certain amount of one-upmanship was a sign of a healthy pack - but deliberately singling out an omega for being an omega was far more concerning. Neither he nor Aaron were young enough to have forgotten the consequences of many alphas and betas deciding omegas were the lesser gender. Born werewolf numbers were only just starting to climb again. He had seen first hand how slippery that particular slope could be and had no intentions of letting any of his pack step foot on it.

“Some lessons on the consequences of abusing omegas will be needed then,” he said in a hard voice. “If they think this pack will tolerate such behaviour, they are sadly mistaken.”

Aaron nodded in agreement before chuckling, “If Harry were a little older, I’d leave the matter in his hands. He seems to be doing a fine job of single-handedly disabusing the demon population of the notion that submissives need to be coddled.”

Domovoi smirked, rather proud of the chaos the little demon had managed to cause simply by being himself.

“They do seem to be finding it rather distressing, don’t they?”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “And you wonder why getting the pack to behave is like herding kneazles. If I didn’t know better I would swear you had a djinn ancestor hiding somewhere in your bloodline.”

“A little chaos is good for you,” Domovoi shrugged. “Too much order causes stagnation.”

“We’re werewolves. Maintaining order outside of the full moon is what allows us to remain strong during it,” Aaron argued in the voice of one who has had, and lost, this argument before.

“Yet here we are, one of the most chaotic - and, frankly, insane - packs, who also happen to be one of the strongest. The few stronger packs out there are also significantly older and better established; a few years down the line and not only will we catch up, we’ll overtake,” Domovoi said with the unshakeable certainty that had held the ragtag pack together throughout the years.

Any retort Aaron had was silenced, as it was every time they had this argument. Domovoi’s absolute confidence in the strength and ability of their, often unconventional, pack always served to remind the larger werewolf of why he had chosen to step down as Alpha and instead adopt the mantle of Second to the smaller werewolf. It was undeniable that, despite the chaos the pack embodied, they were one of the fastest rising packs he had ever heard of.

“We may have gotten sidetracked,” the Second said a few moments later, breaking the contemplative silence. “I believe we were supposed to be discussing Harry?”

“Yes,” Domovoi said, his face darkening. “You were telling me of your suspicions about his home-life.”

“Yes, well, in addition to his complete lack of trust in authority, he also displays a worrying apathy towards his relatives - an apathy they seem to return in full,” the Second frowned, thinking back to the few conversations he had had with Harry. “I’m not sure of the exact circumstances that led to him running away from home - I’m sure the lad thought he was being subtle about giving the abridged version but the story had holes I could lead a cerberus through - however I got the impression that it was the Ministry who were concerned to find him missing, not his relatives.”

“Why was the Ministry watching him at all? Are they still watching?” Domovoi asked with a frown, folding his arms and tapping his fingers as he considered the situation.

“I don’t think they were watching him, as such. They responded to a bout of accidental magic - blowing up his aunt, I believe - and panicked upon finding him missing. Presumably the manhunt was launched due to his celebrity status,” Aaron explained. “They are still keeping half an eye on him, but only by having the bar keeper make sure he is ok. Easy enough to work around.”

“He blew up his aunt?” Domovoi said with raised eyebrows. “That seems rather…morbid for a thirteen year old. Although I suppose those demonic tendencies have to appear at some point. Coming out of the proverbial closet with a literal bang, an interesting approach.”

Aaron gave him a flat look. “I am positive he meant ‘blew up’ as in inflated, not exploded,” he said dryly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his Alpha’s needling.

“Ah. How disappointing. Exploding would have been much more interesting.”

“Merlin save us,” Aaron muttered to the ceiling, “the Chief Lunatic is running the asylum.”

“I could be offended.”

“You could be a better influence. I blame you for everything wrong with this pack.”

“You sound like my grandmother.”

“Good, you should listen to your elders.”

“She was a terrifyingly insane lady who once screamed at a horntail until it got off her lawn, and she used to breed ridgeback dragons and set them on the neighbours’ kids when they stole apples off her tree. Her parting advice to me was threefold: ‘never’ is a dirty word; if I want people to follow, first I must lead; and not to add pixie dust to St. Elmo’s fire unless I want to spend a week tasting colours.”

“An…interesting lady. It also explains a lot about you,” Aaron said deadpanned.

“I could be offended.”

“Dear Merlin! Was Shax really that bad?” the larger werewolf exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Domovoi said innocently.

“”You never torture me this much unless Shax has been driving you up the wall.”

“This is barely a fraction of what he’s been like to deal with since Harry appeared. He is impossible! I’m on the verge of leaving my gun and my wand in my office when I see him, just to reduce the temptation to bearable levels!” the Alpha ranted, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Lock him in a room with Harry. Or throw Harry at him. Anything as long as the two of them talk!”

“They spoke last night,” Aaron pointed out. “It was brief but Harry seemed happy enough with he way it went.”

“It would have been better if the big jessie hadn’t hidden in his office since then,” Domovoi grumbled.

“Did they not arrange to see each other again?” the Second asked seriously. He hadn’t been paying a great deal of attention to the conversation between the demons but he was sure he had heard them agreeing to meet again at a better time.

“Supposedly today,” Domovoi said dubiously, “but, unless he’s reached a new level of stalking and really is invading the lad’s bedroom, he’s left it a bit late now.”

“Ah, so that is why you are sulking,” Aaron said insightfully.

“I could be offended.”

The larger werewolf gave an exasperated growl and pinched the bridge of his nose. Spying the pile of duct tape on the floor, a piece clinging to his shoe, the growl turned into a groan. It was like being surrounded by toddlers.

§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§`§

Harry woke to the sight of two owls glaring at each other at the foot of his bed. One of them was his own snowy owl, Hedwig, who was guarding her food and water dishes from the regal looking horned owl perched on the footboard.

Rolling to his feet with a groan, he scratched Hedwig’s chest in greeting before turning to the unfamiliar owl.

“Is that for me?” he asked softly, untying the letter when the owl stuck its leg out impatiently. As soon as the letter was removed the owl took off, so Harry presumed a reply was unnecessary.

The crimson writing on the envelope was unfamiliar. However, the crest printed on the back was vaguely familiar; rampant bears holding a crimson shield surrounded by oak leaves, with three black bats forming an inverted triangle on the face of the shield. Underneath the crest was a ribbon containing the words ‘sacrificium spirat vitam’.

Cracking the wax seal, Harry’s eyebrows rose as he realised who the letter was from. The Demon Council hadn’t contacted him since he had informed them of his existence when he was eleven.

Quickly skimming through the verbose letter he groaned and flopped back onto his bed. The Council wanted him to meet with a group of representatives to discuss his side of the disagreement with the aggressive dominant from the club. They would be arriving tomorrow to meet him in Knockturn. Making a note of the time and place with a sigh, he balled up the letter and tossed it into the fire - there was nothing really incriminating in the letter but better safe than sorry.

Turning to Hedwig he smiled and held his arm out for her to perch on.

“What have you got for me, girl?” he murmured, feeding her an owl treat and taking the letter.

He grinned when he recognised Hermione’s handwriting, settling back against his headboard and letting Hedwig perch on his knee. Gently running his fingers through the contented owl’s feathers, he chuckled as he read Hermione’s detailed description of her holiday. She was the only teenager he knew who could spend a fortnight in Japan and be more interested in the local magical library than in seeing the sights. His grin stretched even wider as he reached the bottom of the letter:

Regarding the problem you wrote to me about, it would be better to talk about it in person. Poor Hedwig would be exhausted carrying notes back and forth all the time!
I was going to spend this week reading through our new books (there is a fascinating chapter about strengthening solutions in the potions book; do you think I should include it in the essay or will it be too much?) and join you in Diagon at the weekend when the Weasley’s got back from Egypt, but my parents are going to a conference in London and said I could stay in Diagon with you for the night. I’ll be there tomorrow (Monday)!

See you soon,
Hermione

Folding the letter and carefully moving Hedwig onto the headboard without waking her, he rolled over to grab his wand and check the time.

10.00am.

Scrambling out of bed the demon shed his pyjamas on the way to the shower, rushing to get ready for the day. Hermione hadn’t specified a time but she was the embodiment of the saying ‘better an hour early than a minute late’. If she hadn’t arrived bright and early, he’d eat his wand.

With his hair still wet, but looking otherwise presentable, Harry bounded down the stairs, scanning the tables before he’d reached the bottom step. As he expected, he spotted a mass of bushy brown hair in one corner.

“Hermione!” he called as dodged around the morning crowd, narrowly missing a harried witch herding along three toddlers.

“Harry!” Hermione engulfed him in a tight hug. “How are you? You look great, are those new clothes? How has your summer been? Japan was amazing! Did you know they-“

Harry put a hand over her mouth, laughing.

“Slow down. My summer has been good. Not as incredible as yours sounds but it’s been great not having to deal with the Dursleys,” he smiled.

“You didn’t really blow up your aunt, did you?” Hermione asked with a disapproving frown.

“Well…” Harry said sheepishly.

“Oh Harry!” Hermione groaned. “You could have been expelled!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry protested. “She was calling my dad a drunk and stuff, then she started on my mum and I kind of lost it. I started yelling and the next thing I know she’s inflating and floating out through the back door.”

“You blew up your aunt?” asked a familiar voice. Harry was gratified when he wasn’t the only one to jump, though he was the only one to smack the sneaky werewolf in the chest.

“Edson! Merlin, you’re as bad as Timothy,” he grumbled.

“Impossible. Nobody’s as bad as Timothy,” Edson declared. “Who’s your friend? Is she old enough to join us a bit closer to home?”

“This is Hermione. Hermione, this is Edson, a member of the local Community - of the furry kind,” Harry introduced.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Hermione said with a nod.

“Likewise,” Edson said, tilting his head slightly as he returned the nod. “I know it’s impolite to ask a lady her age but…”

“I’m thirteen.”

“Ah. A bit on the young side then,” Edson said with a frown.

“I’m thirteen,” Harry objected.

“But you’re our special little snowflake,” Edson smirked, ruffling the demon’s hair. The damp hair stuck up in all directions, looking even wilder than usual.

“I’m not leaving Hermione here,” Harry insisted. “She’s only here for…” he looked at her questioningly.

“Until tomorrow morning,” she supplied.

“Right. She’s only here for the day, I can’t just abandon her.”

“I’ll be back at the weekend when the Weasleys get back from Egypt,” Hermione added.

“Not helping my case!”

Edson rolled his eyes, “She’s not coming to the Alley, Harry,” he said firmly. “Not until her inheritance. You know the rules.”

“They’re stupid rules.”

“They are important rules. If you haven’t had your inheritance, your magic isn’t stable enough to support the drain. It might not be much but it can seriously damage immature magic.”

“What drain?” Harry asked blankly.

Edson stared at him while Hermione rolled her eyes heavenward and muttered “Honestly!”

“You know, the magic needed for the wards and to maintain the Covenant?” the werewolf elaborated, glancing at Hermione. “I though they taught you this stuff in Gryffindor.”

“They do,” Hermione grumbled, “but some people weren’t paying attention.”

“When were we told that?”

“This year, just before summer. It was less than two months ago!”

“I had other things on my mind then, like the fact I was nearly eaten by a sixty foot snake!” Harry exclaimed.

“What?!” Edson yelped. “What snake? How does a snake reach sixty feet? There are basilisks smaller than that!”

“Oh, um…what are the chances that you won’t tell the rest of the pack?” Harry winced.

“Zero,” Edson said dryly.

“We should go somewhere a bit more private,” Hermione suggested, glancing around at the other occupants of the pub who were looking over curiously.

Harry nodded, leading the way up to his room. Once the door was shut he cast a basic privacy charm that would alert them if anyone approached the room.

“Harry! You can’t do magic outside of school, you’ll be expelled,” Hermione hissed.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Relax Hermione. You know the Trace doesn’t work around so much magic. Besides, if they do find out I’ll just say Edson cast it while I was near him,” he shrugged. Hermione grumbled but didn’t object.

The werewolf in question had sprawled across Harry’s bed and was giving the demon an expectant look.

“Well?” he prompted when it seemed Harry was going to remain silent. “Tell me about this basilisk-sized snake.”

“A basilisk was attacking students, I happened to encounter it, events involving a lot of panicked running around happened, and in the end nobody died. Except the basilisk, but nobody cares about that,” Harry said innocently.

Edson gave him a look and asked Hermione, “Is he always like this?”

“Evasive to the point of tearing your hair out? Not always, but annoyingly often. Mostly when he’s in the hospital wing, in trouble, or talking to Professor Snape,” Hermione said, giving Edson a searching look. While his concern wasn’t unwarranted, it was unusual for someone to be so concerned after knowing Harry for less than a week. Especially as werewolves were often largely indifferent about what happened to people outside of their family or…Her eyes widened. Turning on Harry, she snapped, “Harry Potter, is there something you forgot to tell me in your letter?”

“I didn’t forget, I just didn’t think it should go in a letter,” Harry defended. “What was I supposed to say? ‘My summer was great, I blew up my aunt and got adopted by werewolves’?”

“You could have hinted at it!”

“I did!”

“Not enough for anyone to know that’s what you meant.”

“That is a good thing,” Edson cut in before Harry could retort. “Letter interceptions by the Ministry may not be common practice now there’s no war, but that doesn’t mean they’ve stopped. Becoming complacent and including sensitive information in letters is dangerous,” he warned.

Hermione deflated.

“I know,” she said, biting her lip. “That’s why I came to Diagon early, because we want to talk about Harry’s inheritance. It’s just…this is huge, Harry! Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

Edson frowned, “Oi, that’s my pack you’re talking about.”

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Hermione said, flapping her hands nervously. “But it’s a massive, life changing decision and it happened so fast,” she continued worriedly.

“I’m fine Hermione. The pack is great. They’ve all been really friendly. Well, except one but even he’s not too bad, really,” Harry smiled.

“Do my ears deceive me? You just said something nice about Rikin! Are you feeling ok?” Edson teased.

“Compared to Malfoy, Rikin’s practically an angel,” Harry laughed.

“Compared to Malfoy, everyone’s an angel,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

“But I get in trouble if I wrap Malfoy in duct tape,” Harry smirked. Edson chuckled while Hermione gave an exasperated huff.

“Between you and Timothy, Aaron’s muzzle will be grey before the next moon,” Edson laughed.

“I doubt I can do the same damage in the remaining week that Timothy’s done over the years. Aaron’s sanity is safe for now” Harry snorted.

“I don’t know, you could be that last push over the edge,” the werewolf mused. “None of us have ever been near a basilisk,” he continued, giving Harry a pointed look. “Nice redirection attempt but I negotiate with goblins - you’ll have to do better than that to distract me.”

Harry groaned.

“It really doesn’t matter. I’m fine, no-one died and the basilisk was killed. Nothing to worry about,” he insisted.

“It does matter,” Edson said firmly. “You’re pack. We need to know about things like that.”

“Why?” Harry sulked.

“Because near death experiences are traumatic and it’s our job to make sure you’re ok after something like that happened!” Edson exclaimed.

Hermione laughed.

“That’s going to be a full time job. The year isn’t over until Harry’s nearly got himself killed.”

“I’m not that bad,” Harry insisted.

“How many times have you nearly died since starting Hogwarts?” Hermione asked primly.

“…Three?”

“Last year alone,” Hermione huffed. “You need a keeper.”

“I did not nearly die three times last year,” Harry denied. “Twice, maybe.”

“Dobby, the basilisk, Lucius Malfoy. Lockhart wasn’t trying to kill you but the end result would have been virtually the same,” Hermione listed. “Oh, and the car, which was entirely your fault!”

“We didn’t nearly die in the car.”

“You could have!”

“But we didn’t!”

“Not the point!”

“Children!” Edson broke in, giving Harry a look caught between concern and fascination. “Four times in one year?”

“It sounds worse when you list them like that. And Hermione’s exaggerating how bad most of them were,” Harry protested. “Only two of them were really dangerous.”

“Oh, only two. That’s fine then,” Edson drawled sarcastically. “Most twelve year olds don’t have any near death experiences!”

“I’m fine.”

“Great. Then you won’t be bothered when I tell the Alpha.”

“Why do you have to tell him?” Harry moaned.

“He’s the Alpha,” Edson said exasperatedly.

“Yeah, but…”

“It will be good for you to have an adult looking out for you,” Hermione reasoned. “Merlin knows the Dursleys don’t care and Professor McGonagall is too busy to really know what’s happening. And Dumbledore actively encourages you!”

“Hermione!” Harry complained. “They’re going to go all overprotective-werewolves now.”

“Too bloody right we are,” Edson frowned. “”Then I’m going to tattoo the pack laws on your forehead. Which part of ‘share your problems’ don’t you understand?”

Hermione giggled as Harry sulked. Edson sighed.

“Clearly this conversation isn’t going anywhere. Are you definitely staying in Diagon for the day?” the werewolf asked. Harry nodded. “Right. I’ll send Lukas or someone to keep an eye on you, just in case, but I need to go get some work done.”

Harry pulled his face at having a babysitter but didn’t bother trying to protest. Once the werewolf was gone, Harry put the privacy charm back in place and joined Hermione on the bed.

“A werewolf pack, really Harry?” Hermione said, breaking the quiet.

“It’s not like I planned it,” Harry grumbled.

“You never do,” Hermione sighed. “So other than blowing up your aunt and joining a pack, how has your summer been?”

“Pretty good. Being at the Dursleys’ was as delightful as usual but at least I didn’t need to be rescued this time,” Harry said dryly. “Living in Diagon has been brilliant, and Knockturn Alley is amazing! Well, once you get through the Dark District - that makes my skin crawl.”

Hermione frowned disapprovingly at him. “You don’t go alone, do you?” she asked worriedly. “I know you have the cloak but all it would take is one person realising you’re there and you would be in so much trouble,” she fretted.

“I don’t go alone. Domovoi - the pack Alpha - wouldn’t let me step foot into the Dark District alone even if I wanted to,” Harry reassured her.

“Who did you go with? I presume the pack go with you now, but what about before you were adopted by them?” she asked with a puzzled frown. She couldn’t think of anyone who would be willing to escort him into Knockturn Alley. Well, nobody who wouldn’t try to harm him or tell everyone that the Boy-Who-Lived was going Dark.

“Timothy and Rick mainly. Timothy went with me the first time.”

“Timothy? You mentioned him before, in your letter,” Hermione said questioningly.

“He’s one of the pack. The first one I met,” Harry explained. “He’s also someone I’m not overly pleased with right now,” he added with a frown.

“How long have you known him?” Hermione asked with her own suspicious frown.

“Er, a week. Roughly,” Harry said. Had it really only been a week, he mused silently. It felt like much longer.

“A week! Harry! How could you go into Knockturn Alley with someone you only met a week ago? He could have done anything!” the bushy haired girl exploded, hands making an aborted move towards the demon - whether to hug him or smack him, she wasn’t sure.

Harry hoped she would never realise that he had meant a week in total, and had been considerably less familiar with Timothy during his first Knockturn trip.

“It was fine Hermione. It’s not like I wandered up to the first person I saw and asked them to take me. I got to know him first. We even went shopping in London.”

“You went into London with a complete stranger? Harry! Did nobody ever tell you not to get into cars with strangers? Or follow them into big cities where no-one will notice you go missing?” Hermione said exasperatedly.

“The Dursleys would have been delighted if I wandered off with a stranger. I’m surprised they didn’t actively encourage it,” Harry deadpanned. “Besides, it wasn’t as risky as you think.” Hermione gave him a disbelieving look. “No, really,” Harry insisted. “Before my inheritance it would have been a dangerous thing to do but now I have a constant entourage. Any time something happens, a bunch of dominants appear from nowhere and get all snarly at whatever the issue is.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “How much trouble have you got yourself into since getting here?” she asked suspiciously.

“None. Not much. Only a few hiccups in the mating process,” Harry said, raising his hands defensively. Hermione gave him a disbelieving look.

“Would your werewolf friends agree if I asked them?” she asked skeptically.

“They’d agree that it was all demon related,” Harry hedged.

Hermione sighed, “How bad was it?”

“Um…”

“Harry,” Hermione said warningly.

“The Demon Council want to talk to me.”

“What did you do?” Hermione asked, eyes wide with alarm.

“Nothing! Well, nothing I wasn’t entitled to do. Some dominants are really pushy and one was extra pushy and the Council got involved. But nothing dangerous happened. There was just a lot of shouting,” Harry explained hastily. To be honest even he didn’t really know what the Council wanted. “That’s kind of what I wanted your help with. The dominants, not the Council - I didn’t know about them until today.”

“What does the Council want if you aren’t in trouble?”

“My statement, I think,” Harry shrugged. Seeing that Hermione was’t going to let the matter rest he contained a sigh and quickly explained what had happened with the mouthy dominant.

“Is that what you wanted my help with?” Hermione asked unsurely. She didn’t know how she could help but she would try her best.

“What? No. I told you, even I don’t know what’s going on with them.”

“What do you need help with then?”

“I might be justifiably angry or I might be overreacting to something, but I want a second opinion. Or a third opinion, if you count Leena, but she mostly told me to stop angsting over nothing.”

“Angsting isn’t a word.”

“It is now,” Harry said, folding his arms stubbornly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What’s the problem then?”

Harry explained everything from the first time he met Timothy to the conversation they had in Fantastic Beasts the night he was adopted into the pack. Then he told her about his conversation with Leena and how he now wasn’t sure if he was overreacting or not.

“You are an idiot,” Hermione said definitively once he had finished. “How could you just wander off with someone you had only known for a day! He could have been working for anyone. You’re fortunate it was just a dominant who wanted to keep a closer eye on you.”

“It was fine. I’m a good judge of character.”

“Professor Quirrell,” Hermione said pointedly.

“Oh come on, how was I supposed to know he had Voldemort growing out the back of his head?”

“Exactly.”

“Fine, I’m an idiot who should be more careful. But what about the rest?”

“I think Leena’s advice was good, if a bit blunt,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “Even if Timothy had known you, following orders from his Alpha and pack sponsor would have been more important to him. Asking him to disobey would be like asking Ron to give up food for a week. Maybe he should have told you sooner but he probably didn’t want upset you.”

“I’m not upset. And I would have been less annoyed if he’d told me sooner,” Harry grumbled. Hermione arched her eyebrows.

“If he had told you on day one that his pack sponsor had sent him to check on you, would you have talked to him?”

“I might have,” the demon tried. Hermione gave him a look. “Ok, no. I wouldn’t have given him the time of day,” he admitted. “But if he’d told me the second or third time I met him, I would have at least been willing to listen to the reason why he had been sent.”

“Would it have been any different to him telling you now? You would still be angry at him. I don’t think he did anything with the intention of hurting you. Even keeping his original motivation a secret was at least partly done with your feelings in mind,” Hermione said thoughtfully. Worrying her lip, she hesitantly added, “I think he may have expected you to work it out yourself earlier.”

Harry frowned. “How was I supposed to work it out myself?”

“Why else would a beta werewolf in his twenties take interest in a thirteen year old demon? Most people aren’t as trusting as you. He probably expected you to suspect that more was going on than him thinking you were lonely.”

“So he goes behind my back and suddenly it’s my fault for not guessing he was up to something?” Harry demanded angrily.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault,” Hermione soothed. “But people cheating at the mating game is rather expected. We’ve had enough House talks to know that. Maybe the person you really need to talk to about it is Mr Calvey? Timothy is just the middleman who wants both parties to be happy. Mr Calvey is the one with questionable motives,” Hermione suggested.

Harry sighed.

“You’re right, I guess. I don’t know when I’d be able to talk to him though. I’ve only seen him once and he barely acknowledged my existence. I don’t know if he’s even interested in me,” the submissive frowned. It was an odd dichotomy of feelings, being annoyed at the dominant for sticking his nose in where it was not wanted, while also feeling irrationally upset at being of such little interest to the dominant that they had barely exchanged a few polite sentences. Stupid mating hormones.

Hermione looked amused and despairing.

“Harry, he sent one of his employees to look after you - stop pulling that face, you need a keeper sometimes! One of the higher ranking members, it sounds like, not some grunt he needed to invent work for. Whatever his reasons for not speaking to you, I honestly doubt it is because of lack of interest on his part,” she reassured. Privately she wondered if she could get five minutes alone with the mysterious dominant, to tell him exactly what she thought of these stupid games he was playing and the effect they had on Harry. While on the surface Harry was predominantly annoyed, underneath the veneer she could feel his upset, tinged with self-doubt.

“If you say so,” Harry said, not even trying to mask the doubt in his tone.

Hermione let it go, knowing that pushing it wouldn’t make him believe her any faster. Nagging him worked for many things but she had long since learnt that when it came to Harry’s self-worth, baby steps would be all that got through to him.

“So do I get to meet this pack of yours?” she asked with a smile.

Harry shrugged, “Some of them would probably be willing to come and spend a day in Diagon, but it’s not like I can make anyone come. Everyone outranks me.”

“They’ll come if you ask,” Hermione said confidently. “Werewolves are indulgent of cubs.”

“I’m not a cub,” Harry scowled.

“You’re thirteen. Werewolves only reach maturity at eighteen - they’ll think of you as a cub even if you don’t,” Hermione said. “Honestly, I’m surprised they are letting you stay here on your own.”

“I think people might have something to say if their precious Boy-Who-Lived suddenly had a bunch of twenty-something year old blokes camping in his room. And I had enough people thinking I was evil last year, without trying to move into Knockturn to be with the pack,” Harry snorted.

“They could rent one of the other rooms up here and stay there. They don’t need to be in your room,” Hermione pointed out.

“Don’t tell them that,” Harry huffed. “Aaron will think it’s a great idea, Timothy will move in, and I’ll wake up to badger striped hair and all my stuff being Hufflepuff colours.”

“I thought you were angry at Timothy?”

“I am.”

“You don’t sound very angry at him,” she said doubtfully.

“I’m guess I’m not as angry as I was,” Harry shrugged.

Hermione rolled her eyes, giving a mental exclamation of ‘Boys!’.

“Have you bought your school supplies yet?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah. I got everything on my first day here. I’ve only really looked at the runes and defence books, though,” he replied with a small smile.

“Oh, runes looks so interesting! I owl ordered a few of my books as soon as we chose our subjects. Runes and arithmancy are supposed to be quite difficult so I wanted to get a good start in them. Do you think it’s too early to get the fourth and fifth year books? Some of the additional reading is from the fourth year books, but the booklist might change,” Hermione rambled as Harry half-listened with amusement. “What’s the defence book like?”

“Pretty good. A lot is about ‘Dark’ Creatures but most of it is as unbiased as wizards are capable of being,” Harry said thoughtfully.

“Maybe we’ll have a competent teacher this year,” Hermione said hopefully.

“Can’t be worse than Lockhart,” Harry snorted. “The best use I’ve ever had out of those books was burning them. I should suggest it to the other Gryffindors. We can have a giant ‘welcome back’ book burning. Seamus can light it,” the demon grinned.

“Harry!” Hermione said, her scandalised tone ruined by her giggling. “McGonagall would skin you alive and mount you on the wall as a warning to other students if you set her common room on fire. And then Oliver would resurrect you and kill you again for losing him his star Seeker.”

“Speaking of Oliver, look what I got for him,” Harry said with a mischievous grin, leaping up from the bed and rummaging in his trunk. Pulling out the Harpies’ robes, he held them up for Hermione to see.

“Um, they’re nice? I think I’m missing something. Why did you buy him women’s quidditch robes?” she said with a confused frown.

Harry sighed mournfully. “You just don’t appreciate my brilliance. Where’s Ron when I need him? He’d understand.”

“Egypt,” Hermione deadpanned. “He’d write more but it would probably kill poor Errol. Quidditch jokes will have to wait.”

Harry heaved a sigh, packing the robes away.

“If you’re not going to appreciate my pranking brilliance, do you want to go werewolf hunting?” he offered, shutting the trunk.

Heading down the stairs, Harry grinned as he spotted who was sitting at one of the tables.

“I thought you had a real job and actual responsibilities,” he said cheerfully as he dropped into a chair, careful not to jolt the table or knock over the open ink pot. “Edson said he was sending Lukas.”

“Are you saying Lukas doesn’t have a real job?” Thomas asked without looking up. “Paperwork can be done anywhere. No reason not to do it here when Edson has commandeered the lounge floo to yell at some official in France about the tournament next year.”

“I don’t even know if Lukas has a job. None of this paperwork is because of me, is it? Yesterday was traumatising enough. Which reminds me; the Demon Council wants to talk to me tomorrow. What am I supposed to do?” the demon asked blithely, gesturing for Hermione to take the seat next to him.

Thomas looked up with a glare. “Why are you only just mentioning this now? How am I supposed to help you when you give me no warning?” he said with a frustrated growl. Hermione looked unsurely between the intimidating werewolf and Harry’s relaxed posture.

“Hey, it’s not my fault. I only got the owl this morning,” the demon defended. “Is there a pack protocol I’m supposed to follow or anything? It’s about the dominant you wrestled with the other day, if that helps.”

“Bloody demons and their inability to recognise that the world doesn’t revolve around them,” the tattooed werewolf snarled under his breath.

Taken aback by the usually laid back werewolf’s attitude, Harry said, “Sorry, I was just asking. I can deal with it myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you aren’t dealing with it alone,” Thomas frowned. “You’re the only demon I’m not pissed off with right now.”

“What about Mr Calvey?” Harry asked with raised eyebrows.

“If he wasn’t my pack sponsor I’d have drowned him in the Thames by now,” Thomas muttered.

“I thought werewolves were supposed to respect their pack sponsors as much as their Alpha?” Hermione asked. Thomas cocked his head at her.

“Who are you, exactly?” he asked, flicking his gaze to Harry expectantly.

“Thomas, this is Hermione. Hermione, Thomas; he’s not as scary as he looks,” Harry introduced.

“You’re getting as bad as the rest of them,” Thomas sighed. “Next you’ll be completely ignoring everyone’s existence when there is food around.”

“It’s not like you asked for an introduction,” Harry protested.

“To answer your question,” Thomas said to Hermione, ignoring Harry’s huff, “I do respect our pack sponsor. Shax is craftier than a sphinx on crafty juice, and has risen higher in Guild ranks than any other Creature in recorded history - not that he advertises his Creature status to the Guild. I respect the hell out of him. I also occasionally have the urge to hit him really hard in the face. He can be annoying like that.”

Hermione stared at the werewolf, wide-eyed. Just saying something like that about an authority figure went against everything she had been taught by her parents. Thomas rolled his eyes at her shock.

“Respecting someone and being their subordinate doesn’t mean taking their word as Merlin’s own,” he said exasperatedly. “I reserve the right to be pissed off when he’s being a demanding arse. He has a tendency to forget that not everyone feels the same way as he does about his plans, so we remind him. Sometimes with words, sometimes by reenacting Jurassic Park in his club. One day I might even hex him.”

“Can I join you for that?” Harry asked while Hermione was trying to process a view point so at odds with her own.

“Why do you want to hex our dear sponsor?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Because he’s spent a week spying on me,” Harry scowled.

“Ah. You found out then,” Thomas said delicately.

“You knew?!”

“There was a betting pool on when Timothy would tell you, or if you would find out by yourself first,” the werewolf said with a semi-apologetic shrug.

“Of course there was,” Harry muttered angrily, while Hermione gave the werewolf a disapproving frown. Thomas sighed.

“Shax can be a self-important bastard at times, but he was honestly trying to help this time. He was using Timothy to exploit loopholes in the laws but he’s been decent about it - he’s not asking for tips on how to ‘woo’ you, just making sure you’re ok,” Thomas explained frankly.

“I still want to hex him,” Harry muttered.

“So hex him,” the werewolf shrugged. “Then talk to him, before Domovoi decides to set fire to his office or something.”

“What?” Harry said, looking nonplussed. “Why would Domovoi set fire to his office?”

“Because Shax is inventing work for himself - and consequently the rest of us - to avoid Domovoi being able to force him to talk to you. For all his proxy-stalking, the idiot is terrified of having an actual conversation with you,” Thomas grumbled. “But don’t tell them I told you. They think they’re keeping it all a secret from the rest of us,” he added with a grin.

“Told you,” Hermione said to Harry smugly. “A man who sends werewolves to look after you is not ignoring you because he isn’t interested.”

“He only actually sent one werewolf. The rest of us followed along by ourselves because we’re a bunch of nosey bastards and you looked like a fun person. But other than that, she’s right,” Thomas said with a nod at Hermione. “Shax is interested, he just has difficulty showing it like a normal person.”

“Still gonna hex him.”

“Good. He deserves it and you’re the only one who can get away with it,” Thomas grinned.

“Is there even any point mentioning the Trace?” Hermione sighed.

“Which is worse, underage magic or hexing people you only have a passing familiarity with?” Harry mused.

“That depends. Are you using whatever it was you hexed that guy with yesterday?” Thomas asked.

“Probably not. It’s only supposed to be used on people who are harassing us or being a threat. I’m not happy with him but I’m not that annoyed,” Harry admitted.

“You actually used that spell?” Hermione said, looking alarmed. “Harry, you could have caused some serious damage if you did it wrong!”

“He deserved it,” Harry said stubbornly. “Now I get why we were taught it. Some dominants really don’t know how to make no as an answer.”

“Why didn’t you hex that prat in the club?” Thomas asked. “It would have made my life easier.”

“I didn’t want to scare the other dominants off,” Harry said sheepishly. “Besides, you had it handled.”

“I hate you. You are a terrible, terrible person. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to hold on to a struggling demon?”

“I love you too.”

Hermione watched the interaction with a smile. She knew Harry was unaware of how much his friends worried about him. When he told her he had joined a werewolf pack, that he had known for less than a week, she had cursed his impulsiveness. However, it seemed the Potter Luck had struck again, if all the pack were like Edson and Thomas. Harry needed someone who would look after him and take him to task when he did stupid, dangerous things. The pack seemed up to the job. Speaking of which…

“So, did Edson tell you about Harry’s adventure with a basilisk?” she asked Thomas brightly.

“Hermione!” Harry exclaimed, betrayed, as Thomas pinned him with a glare and a demand for an explanation.

Yes, she thought happily as the werewolf painstakingly extracted the story from the evasive teen, the pack would be good for Harry.
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The Path Less Traveled