Archive of Our Own

Harry watches McGonagall wearily with the rest of their year. “As you all know, the last years have been very strenuous to the community,” she says, “not only our community itself, but communities outside of our wizarding society.”

Harry hears Draco scoff softly. Hermione swats the back of his head, making the blonds eyes roll. Harry snickers softly. 

“Because of that our ministry has decided that it’s important for you all to explore the world outside of our known confines. To learn from other societies, other cultures that practice magic, in a different manner than we do. In the coming weeks, I will be calling you all to my office to tell you where you will be going. We will be working in pairs of your choice. Pair up and tell me with whom you are taking this new leap into magical society.”

Harry laughs when he sees the way Hermione's eyes practically sparkle with magic and curiosity. If there is something Harry has learned it’s that Hermione loves to learn, but especially that she has found some strength in learning by doing instead of taking in the information of books.

Her eyes are wide and almost wild with the idea. Harry laughs again, knocking their shoulders together. “You and me?” he asks.

Hermione laughs rolling her eyes, “of course it’s going to be you and me, Harry, who else?” Harry smiles brightly, yeah him and her, against the world, while Ron kicks ass in the aurors like he’s dreamt of doing for so long.

Draco and Blaise walk up to the front of the room together. McGonagall nods as they talk to her and Draco is the one to talk softly, nodding as he listens and accepts whatever her answer is. Harry walks forward to tell her that Hermione and he are pairing together.

“I expected nothing else, Potter,” McGonagall says, smiling, “I will see you after dinner?”

Harry smiles and nods happily, slipping back besides Hermione. “I wonder what kind of places she will be sending us. I read about an enclave in the Egyptian Desert where the remaining parts of the library of Alexandria had been hidden for muggle eyes. Or maybe they’ll let us learn from the goblins!” 

Harry laughs, “I doubt they would let us of all people get anywhere close to true goblin history, Hermione.”

“Why!”

“Because we broke into their unbreakable bank?” Harry drawls, snickering when Hermione huffs. “Maybe we’ll learn about a whole different kind of magic we’ve never encountered before. Or even heard of, how about that?” Harry offers her, enjoying the way her eyes instantly spark alight at the idea alone. 

“I can't wait,” Hermione whispers.

“I expected nothing less, Mia,” Harry snickers.

Harry doesn't bother knocking on McGonagall's door, just barging in, grinning, “so, where are you going to send me and Mia?” He asks, dropping into the chair across from her.

“I’m not telling you a thing, mister Potter,” she says, nose high, and Harry laughs as she pushes a box of biscuits towards him. “How has your week been?”

“Better,” Harry answers honestly, sitting back up. “I’ve had less outbursts, so I think your hypothesis is correct. Too much magic.”

McGonagall nods seriously and Harry is so glad that this year he has someone that listens. Someone that wants to help him and listens to what he needs. He never expected his problem would be strange magical outbursts. But then again, no one could know what being killed twice would do to someone. And apparently with Harry it means less control over his magic. 

“And the wandless magic, how has that been going?”

“Difficult,” Harry answers slowly, “at least the more finesse things? I can cast an accio without wand easily, but not transfiguration spell. The match stays a match.” 

McGonagall nods, “perhaps move on to more difficult ones and then move backwards instead. We start with the small ones because they use less magic and it’s about understanding the magic inside. But you know that, now start with transfiguring bigger, larger objects, before slowly moving down.”

Harry nods, “Hermione said similarly,” he offers, “you’re really not telling me anything on where you’ll send us. I know you already know,” he says. 

McGonagall just looks at him, the same stare she’s used on him so many more times before. The one that says are you daft mister Potter? Harry pouts. “Alright, mister Potter, I think that was all for today. You will hear about your assignment in the same manner as everyone else.” 

Harry huffs before he stands and smiles, “thanks Minnie,” he says and McGonagall just huffs and waves her hand away. 

Harry and Hermione stand before her Office again a week later. The door opens without them even knocking. “Ah, mister Potter, miss Granger, come in,” McGonagall calls out. There is a man beside her. He reminds Harry a little about Kingsley, the kind smile, no nonsense look in his eyes. He only misses the golden hoop earring. 

“This is doctor Alan Deaton, from Beacon Hills in California,” she says and she holds out her hand to the man beside her.

Harry steps forward, holding out his hand, “pleasure to meet you sir, I’m Harry Potter.”

“Hermione Granger,” Hermione says, shaking his hand too. 

“It’s my pleasure to meet you both,” doctor Deaton says.

“as you both know If requested you both here to get your assignment. You will be getting to know doctor Deaton and the land he lives in.”

“I’m sorry, you said doctor Deaton, but what are you?”

“A veterinarian,” the man answers, smiling. Hermione blinks quickly, “but I am also a druid, with connection to the land and the creatures that live in and around the preserve of Beacon Hills.”

“Druid,” Hermione whispers, “wow. Is- I didn't expect that. Isn't it- isn't druid magic inherent?”

“Mostly, but a lot of our methods focus on the land we live in. The cohabitation with our land and ourselves. Something many wizards have forgotten how to do.”

Huh. “Your assignment will be a little different than most,” Harry almost groans but Hermione sits at the edge of her seat. “You will be living in a community that has a magical underworld. Some individuals know about the world, and others are unaware. You will be following lessons from Deaton, and you will be going to high school.” Hermione's eyes widen, “this is for another reason. Because you will not be going with just the two of you.”

Harry almost groans again before she continues. He already knows. “You will be going with mister Malfoy and mister Zabini. As you both know, part of Mister Malfoy’s sentencing means that he’s not allowed to use his wand without the presence of either Hogwarts teachers or someone appointed by the ministry. The minister has appointed you both as this person. Meaning he will only be allowed to use his wand in the presence of you both.” 

“Of course he did,” Harry mutters, it's not that he even minds that much. Draco and he have been, okay-ish. Not friends but not actively fighting. Probably because they all sleep in the same dorm and it gets annoying real quick.

“So we’ll be going with the four of us?” Hermione asks, ignoring him.

“Indeed,” McGonagall hums, “I will be informing mister Malfoy and Zabini of this as well. I expect you both to make sure that their upbring does not become a problem.”

“I’m sure Beacon hills still has the stuck up rich problem,” Harry drawls grinning.

“Says you, Lord billionaire,” Hermione mutters and Harry just laughs, grinning at her. It’s not like he’s an actual Lord. 

“We do have enough of those,” Deaton says amused, “it will be my pleasure to teach you all more of my particular neck in the woods.” Harry squints at the quirk in McGonagall's smile. There’s clearly more going on in Beacon Hills than just a single druid if that smile is anything to go by.

Harry is really excited. Exploring a different country. Sun, so much sun. Maybe he can convince Hermione that they should visit LA and enjoy the beach and maybe see Hollywood or the Santa Monica pier. They’re in California, it shouldn't be that far right? The different magic was also exciting. Hermione had chattered all about Druids and their magics. None of them used wands.

McGonagall had even pulled him aside to say that she had discussed his magic issues with Dr. Deaton and that they would be working on that when they could.

The only thing Harry was not excited about was Highschool. “I just don't get it, why do I have to go?”

“Because you’re eighteen Harry,” Hermione huffs, “all eighteen year olds go to school, so we will too. No one cares if you actually pass.” Harry raises an eyebrow, “okay I care, but no one else.”

“Right,” Harry chuckles, “if you say so.” 

Hermione sticks out her tongue and Harry can't help but laugh again, throwing his arm around her shoulders. They’re only waiting for Draco and Blaise now, before they're leaving. It’s nice that they’re travelling the magical way because Harry really didn't want to sit in an airplane for hours when they can be on the other side of the world in just a turn. 

“Muggle Highschool,” Draco says, scowling a little.

“Can’t believe I agree with Draco,” Harry says dramatically.

“I’m quite interested in finding out what muggles in America learn,” Blaise muses, Hermione beams. 

Harry can't help but share a suffering look with Draco. Draco and he both grimace, before turning back. 

“I see you’re all here,” McGonagall says, “you'll be arriving at eight in the morning, so I hope you’ve all rested before this because your day starts quick.”

Harry has not in fact taken the nap Hermione told him to, but he’s used to sleepless nights anyway so he doesn't mind all that much. He takes the chipped mug that McGonagall offers, the other three grabbing on. “Enjoy and learn,” McGonagall says, “and remember, you will be writing an essay on your experience, so keeping a notebook is recommended,” she smiles, “have fun.”

Harry doesn't like the glint in her eyes but the hook under his navel pulls as she taps the mug with her wand and they’re whisked away. 

It’s warm. Already. It’s only getting into winter time, early even, and yet the sun is already shining in the sky. Harry stumbles on his feet. Always. He ignores Draco’s ugly snort at it. He looks up to see Dr. Deaton standing not far away, leaning back against a truck. “What is that?” Draco asks, voice soft. 

“What?” Harry asks, and Draco waves his hand towards the man. “The truck? It’s a car. Wait, please tell me that you know what a car is.”

“I’ve heard of automobiles,” Draco says, head high, haughty tone and all. “They don’t look like that.”

“Oh merlin’s saggy balls,” Harry mutters, Hermione laughs, first giggling before she breaks out in loud laughter. “Don’t laugh, Mia! We’re supposed to not get noticed like we’re fucking aliens.”

“Technically we are aliens,” Hermione laughs, grinning, eyes sparkling.

“You’re no help at all,” Harry whines, and he steps forward. “Thank you for meeting us,” Harry says, ignoring the floundering purebloods and his useless best friend, “why are we meeting so far from the town though? I thought we were going to get used to the place before you’ll teach us more about your brand of magic.”

“We are, but the wards around town make it impossible to travel into the town by magical means,” Deaton says, and he grins, “get in.”

O-kay, not ominous at all. Hogwarts has a similar ward but Harry knows, from extensive lecturing by Hermione, that it’s a ward that’s been fed by every child that walks into the school, and that is almost impossible to replicate new. 

He parks himself in the car besides Deaton, while Hermione piles in the back with the rest. Draco grumbles under his breath about tight fits and stuff, but Harry ignores him. Deaton too apparently. Harry is starting to like the guy, starting the car and driving off. Harry snickers under his breath when he hears Draco and Blaise’s surprised gasps. 

He feels it the moment they cross the border. A heavy cloak, warm and protective, sliding over him. He looks up behind him seeing the other three just as surprised. “That’s some heavy protection,” Hermione says. 

“It’s old.” It’s all that Deaton says as he steers them further into a town. It’s still quite a drive, and they pass their new school and they pass a sheriffs station. A large library. They steer into a parking lot. “This is my practice,” Deaton says, “my home is close by so we will walk from here.”

“Are we living with you?” Draco asks, his nose wrinkling. 

“No,” Deaton answers, “a house has been rented for you all. Your school has a lot of funding apparently.” 

Harry suddenly realises that there’s been no time given to their assignment. Which, should be worrying, but Harry feels like he can finally breathe when he steps out of the car and inhales deeply. The energy in the air is charged, warm, and heavy on his skin. It’s drenched in magic and when Harry lets a little flow through his fingers the wind picks it up, and floats it around. 

“You seem comfortable here,” Hermione says softly. 

“I am,” Harry answers, and he grins, “can’t you feel it, the magic?”

“It’s thick in the air, like in the forest.”

“Only it isn’t as dark as it is there. It’s not as tainted. It’s light and playful and free.”

“The way you talk about magic always worries me, Potter. Maybe you should see a mindhealer,” Draco says. 

Harry laughs, “sure, Draco, when you go, I’ll go,” he grins and he follows Deaton into the practice. 

Stiles watched them. They were with the four of them. All of them gorgeous and mysterious. It was never a good combination. The last hot guy that randomly entered Beacon Hills turned out to be sent by crazy doctors that turned innocent little kids into were chimeras. Just because the crazy guy was all sweet on Liam now didn’t mean Stiles could just let it go. 

“What are they talking about?” he demands, turning to Scott besides him. Scott cocks his head like a little puppy. God, how can anyone take him serious as a big bad Alpha werewolf? 

“They’re arguing,” Scott says slowly, “something about how blond guy had a tough year and it was unfair that he had to do this? Crazy hair says that blond guy shouldn’t bitch, he was- uh-” Scott’s eyes widen, Stiles would think it’s comical if not for the dread pooling in his stomach. Scott actually recoils when the girl speaks up, crossing her arms, one eyebrow raised. Damn. All three boys look properly chastised in an instant. 

“What did they say?”

“Black hair said that at least blond guy wasn’t murdered last year, and that he had it worse because he was possessed? And the girl said that both of them should shut up and clearly she had it worst, because she was tortured?”

“Okay, so either they’re super into DnD, or they’re bad news.”

“Let’s hope the first one,” Scott whines, “I thought you said that the new wards should keep out all baddies attracted by the nemeton?”

“That’s what Doc said, man, I just do what he tells me to. You know him. Enigmatic little asshole never tells me anything.” Stiles sits down between Lydia and Malia, “we’re trying to figure out if the new kids are bad news or not,” he announces, “they were talking about murder, possession and torture.”

Lydia cocks her head, looking at them, “no killer vibes around them.” 

Stiles hums, interesting. “So just really into DnD? Maybe they were talking about last session not last year,” he muses. 

“Oh, they’re definitely weird,” Malia says, grinning, “blondie didn’t know what a computer was. Girl had to actually step on his foot to get him to shut up.”

“Weird,” Stiles says, “I say we follow them,” he says cheerily. “No Theo 2.0.” the man in question glowers at him and Stiles gives him his best innocent look. He knows he sucks at that one but he doesn’t care. It’s the exact reason he even does it.

“How about we give them a week, and if nothing weird has happened in that time frame we’ll just start with introducing ourselves,” Scott drawls. 

Stiles huffs, so much for his fun. But he’s okay with waiting for a week. If anything weird happens they’ll know who to blame instantly at least. 

Harry grumbles to himself as he stumbles through the woods. He should know better. He shouldn't have expected to just learn about new types of magic and that would be it. The only problem so far had been Draco not even knowing the fucking basics of muggles.

Hermione had harped about the necessity of muggle class for all raised in the magical world. Her vehemently agreeing with Draco saying that the muggle raised should learn about purebloods and their culture had been hilarious. Harry still snickers over the dumbstruck look on Draco’s face.

He should have woken up Hermione when he couldn't sleep but she had multiple shitty nights already so Harry wasn't going to wake her up the night she did sleep through it. And now here he was. Stumbling through a dark forest. At least this one didn't seem to actively want to kill him.

“What are you doing here,” a voice says and Harry nearly jumps out of his skin as he turns around. There’s a kid around his age waiting in the clearing. 

“Uh, walking?” Harry offers.

The guys eyes squint, “you’re one of the new guys aren't you? Harry something?”

“I am,” Harry says slowly, “you’re Bilinsk, right?” He’s pretty sure he’s heard coach call him that.

“Stilinski,” the guy grumbles, “Stiles.” Interesting name. “so? Why are you here?”

“Like I said, I was just walking.”

“No,” Stiles mutters and Harry can almost see him rolling his eyes. “Here. In Beacon Hills.”

“Oh, uh, well,” he frowns, part of the truth is smartest, “we're on a kind of exchange programme? Or internship programme I think is more accurate,” he muses, “we’re with ah Doctor Deaton, you probably don't know him, he’s the vet in town?”

“I know Deaton,” the guy says ominously. The fuck is going on here. The guy tilts his head, “you know Deaton. Do you know Deaton the way I know Deaton?” He muses.

“That depends on how you know him,” Harry says slowly. 

“Dude not like that!” Stiles cries out, “Jesus,” he shivers and Harry can't help but laugh. 

He hesitates before he holds out his hand, “it’s nice to finally meet someone else from this town?” Harry offers.

The guy takes his hand, and yup, magic. For sure. Dancing over Harry's hand, as it flitters around. Harry lets a little of his own flow out of his hand an their magic actually sparks when it touches. “So are you like a druid in training or what?” Stiles demands. 

Harry laughs again, “something like that,” he says and he looks around, There’s a massive tree that reminds Harry a lot of the whomping willow, but this one is only it’s stump. “So what is this place?”

“I’m sure Deaton will tell you in time,” Stiles grins. Harry huffs out a breath. “You wanna take a ride back with me?” 

Harry smiles, “I’ll find my own way back,” he answers and he watches the guy walk away with a shrug, muttering under his breath about weird druid strangers and watching out for the wolves.

Harry twists sharply, apparating back to their little apartment. “Merlin’s balls!” Draco cries out. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Met another magic user from town,” Harry says with a shrug, “he knows Deaton. I’m gonna nap,” he announces before walking away. He ignores Draco’s faint grumbling that it’s the middle of the night from the kitchen, grinning to himself. It hadn't been his plan to scare Draco but it was a fun addition. He falls flat in bed, trying to ignore the dreams of a big house, mourning a loss, blackened by a big raging fire. Forget the dreams of a big flourishing tree, arching trees, laughter and kid rushing around, dancing around a maypole to celebrate the solstice. 

Stiles groans when his phone rings. “What?” he demands. He’d gone to sleep way too late, after catching whatever Harry is at the nemeton. He didn’t seem to know what the meaning of the tree was, and when their hands touched he hadn’t gotten any bad vibes. Just, not fully human vibes. 

“Deaton asked you, me and Derek to come to the clinic,” Scott says, “he said he has some people he wants us to meet.”

Stiles throws the blankets off of him. “He does? Interesting. Probably the brits,” he adds, putting his phone between his shoulder and cheek. He struggles into his jeans, sniffing his shirt. He throws it away and pulls one from his clean clothes bag. No scowling wolves that way. 

“Why the brits?”

“Oh, I met one of them at the nemeton,” he says, “definitely not fully human, but he said he was with Deaton so I think we’ll be safe. Was going to tell y’all tonight at pack night, obviously.”

Scott grumbles low, “one year. Why can’t we just have one normal year?”

Stiles laughs brightly, “dude, we haven’t had a normal year since we started high school. Of course this year was gonna be weird too. Let’s just hope it’s not something actually bad. I see you both at Deaton’s.” 

“You did not die,” Draco says, voice flat. Stiles raises an eyebrow as he pushes the door at the counter of the clinic open, letting Scott and Derek into the back. 

“I did so!” Harry calls out, he sounds petulant. Who the hell sounds petulant when talking about his death? “Ask you mum!”

“You nodded at her, she risked her life to tell snake face that you were dead, doesn’t mean you were.”

“I was! I saw Dumbledore, he told me to take the train back, to live!” the guy actually pouts, crossing his arms. 

Draco rolls his eyes just as Stiles pushes into the room and Stiles is absolutely loving this interaction, even if he’s mildly worried, “so you hallucinated, big deal,” Draco mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“You-! Mia tell him!” Harry says and he turns big green eyes to Hermione. “I died.”

Hermione just pats his arm and wow, she and Lydia are going to be a fucking force to be reckoned with aren’t they? Kick ass women with zero remorse. At least if they’re not bad news. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Harry,” she says cheerily. 

“Nothing. Nothing helps,” Harry mutters. 

“Guys,” Blaise drawls and Stiles actually snorts aloud, watching as all three turn towards the door that he’s standing in. 

“Heyo,” Stiles grins, “so you’re a zombie? Because I have bad experiences with zombies.”

“Peter isn’t that bad anymore,” Derek mutters. 

“Yes yes,” Stiles waves his hand, and he grins, clapping his hand, “so, Deaton, explain?”

“Yeah, Deaton,” Hermione drawls, eyes focused, “explain.”

“Stiles, Scott, Derek, these are Hermione, Harry, Draco and Blaise,” he points at everyone in order, “these are Stiles,” Stiles wiggles his fingers, grinning, “Scott and Derek.” He hums, “Scott and Derek are the Alpha’s of the werewolf pack that protects Beacon Hills.” Stiles watches them. They don't seem very surprised. Draco recoils slightly, just for a hint. 

“Two alpha’s?” Hermione asks, curiously cocking her head, “how does that work?” 

“Derek inherited the alpha spark of his family,” Deaton explains, “and Scott is a true alpha.” 

“A what? Please remember that our education doesn't talk about werewolves all that much,” Blaise drawls. 

Harry gives an ugly snort, “more like what they tell us is completely wrong. What do you mean inherited spark, a werewolf family?”

“Almost every werewolf that has a child has a werewolf as a child.” 

Harry curses, his head swivels to Hermione. “Almost everyone,” she says softly, “not every.”

“The chances are too- Andy can't-” he starts and stops, and Stiles watches as magic actually splutters around his hands. Sparking all around his hands, fizzing his hair up even more. 

“Harry,” Hermione says firmly, and she doesn't shy away as she grabs his arms. Stiles watches, two wolves behind him, “breathe, channel it into the air.” Harry breathes out slowly, and the flashes dissipate. Stiles can practically taste it on his tongue. The magic tastes like an incoming storm, an incoming rain. 

“I think we'd like some explanations now too,” Scott says, stepping past Stiles, Derek on his other side. 

Hermione sends him a look, scathing, as she still rubs Harry’s arm. “We’re wizards,” she says, “sent here by our school to learn under Doctor Deaton, especially for his knowledge as a druid.” She turns to Harry, “we’ll call Andy later, okay?” 

Harry nods once, pulling away. “later.” He looks up, “it’s nice to see you again, Stiles,” he grins, “this how you know Deaton then?”

“That and magic lessons,” Stiles answers, “I’m a spark,” he adds.

Hermione frowns, “I don't think I’ve heard of that,” she says, and her hand disappears in her little bag, returning with a big spiral notebook, her own scribbling away. Harry looks on with such affection. 

“She’s the biggest nerd in the world,” Harry says, smiling at her. 

“I’ll have you know that you would be dead by now if I wasn't,” she says sharply, “tell me more.”

Stiles laughs, “I would if I knew, he’s the one that knows most. I’m just a tiny little spark. For now.” He grins and he wiggles his fingers, little sparks travelling between his fingers. Harry and Hermione look at each other, talking with just their eyes. Are they together? Could be.

“I thought it would be interesting to have you both meet,” Deaton says, “they are here as my apprentices.”

“My condolences,” Stiles drawls. “He’s not very free giving with information.”

“We've noticed,” Hermione mutters, clearly annoyed.

Stiles snickers, “so, you asked for us, just for us to meet or was there more to this?” Derek asks, voice low and annoyed. “I have something to do,” he adds, and Stiles arches an eyebrow as he turns to look at him. Huh he is surprisingly well dressed. A tight but clean shirt. Slacks even. Date? Dangerous. It’s always dangerous for Derek to date anyone.

“I wanted to introduce you both and then offer Stiles to join us for the day. We’ll be going out into the preserve,” Deaton says, “I’m going to show them the wards, and the nemeton.” 

“Definitely coming along then,” Stiles answers, he’s the one that actually climbed into the trees to mark the ward line. “Alright go and do whatever you’re planning sourwolf. Better not be a date with a random woman that just came into town because that’s a no no until we vetted her.”

“Or it just means she’s a bad idea always,” Scott offers. “Dates Derek, bad idea.”

“I hate you both,” Derek says, and he turns around and walks away. 

“Is this a no wolves allowed kind of thing?” Scott asks. 

“Like you need an excuse to go and meet up with Kira,” Stiles drawls. 

Scott snaps his fingers, “good point, I’ll see you tonight. And hell, invite them if you think it’s right,” he looks at the four of them, giving that puppy grin. “Have fun.” 

“Have fun he said,” Stiles grumbles as he trudges through the forest. “Asshole.”

Harry laughs besides him, “not a fan of walking?”

“No,” Stiles mutters, and he looks up, “not a fan of this place either.” He adds. The nemeton comes into view and Stiles stands by it. It’s still dark and dreary. 

“This is the nemeton,” Deaton says, ignoring Stiles. “this used to be a sacred place. A place of meeting, of rituals, of worship. And it was cut down, several years ago.”

“They cut it down?” Draco asks, and his finger reach out. He pulls back before he touches but Blaise doesn't hold back. 

“Why?”

“Because the nemeton was strong. Druids lived here. Together with werewolves. The hunters weren't happy with it, so they cut the tree.” Deaton steeples his fingers, “and because of that it pulls bad magic, bad energy here. Dark druids, Darach’s, use this broken current of magic in their own plans.”

Harry is quiet besides Stiles as he watches and listens. His eyes flit around. “They celebrated here, didn't they? There-” he squints, “there was a symbol carved into it. Three swirls.”

“The triskelion,” Stiles hums, he looks at the way Deaton nods, not all too surprised. “How- how do you know?”

“I dreamed about it,” Harry says slowly, “dreamt about people playing around it. But it wasn't chopped down.”

“Interesting,” Deaton muses and Hermione makes an offended sound. Stiles is starting to like these guys. “Any more dreams?”

“There's a house? Big, used to be well loved, it’s still mourning the losses caused by the fire.”

Stiles inhales sharply, “the house? You mean the house is still feeling it?”

“Seemed like it, it’s-” Harry tilts his head, “hard to understand, but it’s a magical house, and when it burned it died a little. But it’s- I don't think it’s fully gone. It could be rebuilt, remade.”

Stiles turns to Deaton, “did you know that?” Stiles demands. “Did you know that it can be rebuild?”

“I suspected,” Deaton answers.

“Stiles,” Harry says, “explain please.” 

“Right, yup, how about we start with finishing this tour and then later, at six, you four join in the pack meeting. Derek should hear this too anyway. It’s his house.”

Harry hums and Stiles watches. He watches as Harry takes everything in. As he shares looks with Hermione. And how Blaise and Draco share looks too, though the latter two seem more bewildered by the former two. Clearly Harry and Hermione are weird even for other wizards.

The rest of their day is just boring walking. Deaton points out where their wards are carved into trees, where their lines stops and starts. Stiles doesn't find it super interesting, but all wizards are practically hanging onto his lips.

“Now we have to walk back all the way to the clinic,” Stiles whines.

“You’d think the guy running with wolves would have better stamina,” Hermione drawls.

“I resent that. Also I drive a jeep. Which I used to hit werewolves with. Very effective.”

Harry snorts loudly, “well, we have an easier way of getting around,” Harry says, and his brilliant green eyes turn to him. “I could show you.”

“Chances of surviving that?” He asks, turning to Hermione.

“I’d say 99 percent? Loss of a piece of yourself is more likely though. But don't worry, I’ll leave last, so I’d take it with me.”

“You know what, good enough for me,” Stiles decides. He watches Harry, “What do I do.”

“Just stay still,” Harry laughs and Stiles’ arm is grabbed, seconds later his entire insides seem to be squashed together and turned and put back right. 

Stiles gags, do not throw up. Do not be a fool and throw up. He swallows thickly. “Unpleasant. But holy shit.”

Harry laughs, “basically my reaction the first time I did it,” he laughs, “it’s called apparating.” He watches as Blaise appears, Hermione and Draco appear seconds after. “No splinching,” he boasts.

“I see,” she drawls, laughing. Her eyes turn serious, “if you still want to contact Andy today, we should go back and call her,” she says. Harry frowns, looking down at his watch. “What address should we go to tonight, for the, ah, pack meeting?”

“Scott’s place,” Stiles answers. “Uh, give me your phone number and I’ll text it?”

“What’s a phone?” Draco asks, voice too loud to be a whisper. Harry snickers, “Potter! Are you laughing at me?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, I wonder how we’ll ever survive this with you not even knowing the basics of muggle technology, honestly. But we don’t have phone’s Stiles,” Harry says, winching, “our magic fucks with phones.” 

Stiles frowns, fishing out his phone, “it seems fine,” he says, showing it. 

Hermione comes forward instantly, “interesting, it should have blown up.”

“And you didn’t tell me that!” Stiles cries out, “what would I have done if it had blown up.”

“I’d have bought you a new one,” Harry says, waving his hand, “it’s fine.” he frowns, “weird though,” he says slowly, “exaggeration because of xenophobia?”

“Possibly,” Hermione says, scowling and squinting at the same time. Honestly impressive. Stiles watches them, thinking back to the conversations they had while walking.

“So what type of contact do you have then? You said you would call Andy, whoever that is.”

“Andy is family,” Harry answers, Draco makes an angry sound behind them. “But I have a two-way mirror. I talk into it; she has the other side. It’s pretty cool, saved our lives.” He adds softly. “But we might get a phone if it turns out that they do work around magic.”

“My phone’s never glitched honestly,” Stiles says with a shrug, “but okay, uhm, why don’t you guys let me drive you to your place, we’ll swing by Scott’s place. Because I do not know his address,” he says sheepishly. He just knows where it is inside Beacon Hills.

“Easier for us anyway, then we can apparate to it,” Hermione says, “shotgun,” she says with a laugh. Harry grumbles loudly as he Scott’s in the back. “So, Stiles, a spark. Does that mean that you don’t need a wand for magic, like druids don’t.”

“As far as I know, druids mostly deal with things like tinctures, or carvings, things that imbue magic. I just- I guess I can use it differently but know I don’t have a wand.” Pretty absurd really. “Why do you guys?”

“Of course,” Hermione answers, and Stiles blinks when he sees a wand appear in her hand. It’s long, thin, made of wood. “We all have a wand. It’s how we can channel our magic.” Wait, what? “We can only use our own wands usually. They’re catered to our person and our magic. They’re very personal and we don’t usually let others touch, let alone use them.”

“You can’t do magic without it?”

“Most of us can’t, only very old masters usually can,” she turns to the back, “and some overpowered people too.” 

“Mia,” Harry says, a hint of warning. 

“What? He could help! You can do magic without a wand, while almost no other wizards can. McGonagall’s been having a hard time teaching you because she doesn’t know herself. He does.”

“Wow I’m just a noob too,” Stiles counters, “but I’ll make you a deal,” he grins, “you guys teach me about wizarding magic, and I’ll do my best to teach you what I know about sparks.”

“Deal,” Harry says, fast, and rushed, like he’s been dying to learn, to figure it out. It did seem like he didn’t have control over his magic. At least, he definitely sparkled on accident during that little thing about born wolves before. 

They keep to light topics after that. Hermione interrogates him on classes, teachers. They don’t really dive into the pack, but Stiles doesn’t mind. He thinks he might like these guys. They’re weird and funky, but unlike most other teenagers in this town, they know what goes bump into the night. And they aren’t afraid. If anything, they seem sure that they’ve been through worse. And Stiles can’t help but remember the talk about possession, torture, and murder. Maybe these guys are more alike to the pack then he thought. 

Stiles grumbles to himself. He could call Scott, yell at him for not being home and beg him to come quick so Stiles can get in. He could also just wait for the others and just hang around until Scott gets back to his place. If he had his pair of lock picks this would have been so much easier, but he doesn’t have them with him and driving back home to get them would be futile. 

“Jesus Christ!” he yells out when Harry suddenly appears before him from nothing but thin air. “It’s creepy when you do that,” he says accusingly.

“It’s fun when you jump into the air like a frightened cat,” Harry says grinning, “are we early? I thought you said to come by at six?”

“Scott is just late,” Stiles mutters, “and he forgot to keep the door unlocked. Maybe his mum locked it, she is sensible like that, very annoying.”

“Oh, huh, I can probably unlock it,” Harry muses.

“You got some lockpicks on you?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he whips out his wand. Or that. That works too. Or apparently not because the door does not budge. 

“Forgot how to do a first-year spell, Potter?” Draco crows behind him, grinning gleefully. “maybe if you say it out loud it would work.”

“Why don’t you try it, Malfoy?” Harry counters, smirking. Draco squints before he walks forward, holing out his hand to Harry and Harry give his wand. They use the same wand? didn’t Hermione explain that wands were super personal? Interesting. Stiles would not mind getting between that particular sandwich if it was an option. All the pent-up energy would probably be glorious. They’re all snipey all the damn time. It doesn’t seem negative though, just, more like how Stiles and Jackson were at the end. 

Draco huffs, hands the wand back. “I’m guessing there’s some things protected here? A ward, some runes?”

“Of course, dude,” Stiles says, “it’s the house of our Alpha, and a fragile human, we’re not leaving it unguarded.”

“Right, old fashioned it is,” Harry says cheerily, and he falls to his knees, fishing out some lockpicks from his bag. Hermione makes an affronted sound, and Harry just gives her the little case they’re in. She lets out a soft gentle sigh, clearly no longer bothered that Harry has them. Stiles wants to know, but instead he watches Harry pick the lock easily, opening the door. Stiles makes a victorious hum and walks in, the wizards following him inside. 

“Welcome to casa di werewolf,” he grins, “well werewolf and some more, but we’ll get to that later. The others should be arriving soon, so I’ll give you a quick tour for the kitchen, Melissa probably has some snacks for us,” he grins. 

“Melissa is?”

“Scott’s mom,” Stiles answers, “she and my dad know all about this shit, so don’t worry if they come. Though my dad and Scott’s mum could be on a date tonight if we’re lucky.” Harry raises an eyebrow, “we’ve been planning this since me and Scott were like fourteen,” he says, “and they finally got their heads out of their asses last year,” he says cheerily, “so Scott’s gonna be my real brother.”

Harry smiles softly, “that sounds nice,” he says softly. Hermione squeezes his wrist, and Harry just shrugs a little. 

“So how was your talk with Andy?”

“Tense, but we’ll talk about that when the pack is here too,” Harry answers. “But look, we got phones,” he says with a bright grin, showing off his phone, holding it out. He looks so hopeful, and Stiles can’t help but instantly add himself into it. It’s been a while since someone wanted to be friends with him, in a way that didn’t involve him basically inserting himself with them and annoying them until they were slightly friendly like it was with Derek.

“Stiles?” Scott calls out, “did you break in?”

“Technically it was Harry, but hey! Your place is properly worded against bad guys with magic! He had to do it the manual way.”

Scott grins, bumping his fist, “good to know, I brought food.”

“We did too!” Harry grins, “I stress bake,” he adds sheepishly shrugging his shoulder a little, and Hermione pulls out a tin from her bag. “They’re sweets, treacle tart.”

Stiles grins, rubbing his hands, “perfect.” He laughs when the noise in the home increases exponentially when the pups tumble in. 

Harry and his people are relatively quiet. Derek comes in later, looking nervous but also pleased. “So? How’d the date go?”

“It wasn't a date,” Derek mutters, he looks down, “it was a job application,” he says. “I’ll have to do some exams, but he said the job's mine if I want it.”

“Oh?” Stiles climbs onto the counter, watching the pups squabble. Corey rolls his eyes at them. “What's the job, huh?”

Derek looks at him, “just something. I’ll tell you when I actually have it.”

Stiles huffs but he’ll let it go. Derek is asking him to trust him, and he does. Scott grins when Kira comes sidling over to him. “Alright,” Stiles calls out clapping his hands together. Everyone falls silent. “I wanna introduce you all to Harry, Hermione, Draco and Blaise. They’re here in Beacon Hills because of an apprenticeship they have with Deaton.” He muses for a second, “they’re wizards and I’m sure it’ll be explained more by then if you ask. Lydia please don't get too close with Hermione I fear the combination you will make together,” he adds. Lydia's eyebrow rises.

Harry is the one that explains. Stiles listens avidly. They’re from a magical school, crazy to think that has existed for centuries. Crazy to think that none of them knew. He wonders if Peter would know but he’s been gone for a while now. Though Stiles wonders if he might be back some day. He usually doesn’t stay out of Beacon Hills for long. 

Harry slowly talks about the dreams he’s had. And Lydia has the beastiary out in seconds, looking through it for references on magic and dreams and magical houses of all things. It’s a low chance, Stiles assumes, but it’s something. Hermione looks over her shoulder. “Archaic Latin?” she says. 

“Mhm, we’re still working on translating it,” she says, flipping her hair, “I’m the only one who’s studied it.” Draco and Blaise stand on either of her sides, as she opens her translation and the original. 

“It’s not the singing blood, but the blood of the singer,” Blaise says, pointing somewhere, “oh and that’s wrong, they’re talking about Veela’s and their singing dances.”

“Are you fluent in Latin?” Lydia asks looking him up and down with that little frown of hers.

“I am. Latin, archaic Latin, Arabic, Sicilian, Italian, English,” he says counting down. “Draco is fluent in French, Latin, Greek and English.”

“Rich people,” Harry mutters. 

“Cultured,” Draco counters, sniffing, “some of us have learned about our heritage.”

“And some of us were orphaned when they were fifteen and didn’t get a chance to learn,” Harry counters. 

“As much as I love you two bickering, and trust me,” Stiles grins, “I really like it, keep it to the bedroom. We’re focusing.”

“What-?” Draco splutters, “that’s not- we’re not-”

“Yeah, no man,” Harry laughs, not even embarrassed, “he doesn’t do things like that.”

“Homophobic?” Liam asks, scowling towards Draco. Cute. He really thinks he could take on a wizard?

“I am not homophobic,” Draco says, eyes wide. The entire pack just stares at him. Literally only their Alpha’s are straight as far as Stiles knows. And he’s actually pretty sure Derek is into guys sometimes.

“Did you not literally say, it’s okay when it’s not for marriage?” Hermione mutters.

Draco flushes, “that’s- that’s different! I will concede to having been racist,” he says heatedly, “but I do not agree with your assessment that I am homophobic.”

“You guys are crazy,” Liam says looking between them and Stiles laughs as he watches as Draco flushes pink, “did he really just say he was racist?”

“Used to be,” Harry waves his hand carelessly, looking up from the laptop on his thighs. Did he steal the beastiary? He better hope that he doesn’t destroy Lydia’s laptop. “He’s been convicted; it's in our past.”

“I’ve forgiven him,” Hermione huffs, throwing her hair over her shoulder. She flicks through a book. “And seeing as he was most racist to me,” she says, “I think it’s in the past.”

“Honestly, I can’t believe that you conceded to having been racist,” Stiles drawls looking around at the people around him. All of them are people of colour.

“Different kind of racist,” Harry answers unbothered. “It doesn’t even occur to him to think someone with a different skin tone is weird. To him it’s all about the blood.”

“Not anymore,” Draco grumbles gloomily.

“Not anymore,” Hermione concedes. “Now you’re slumming it with the muggles,” she smirks, “living like one.” Draco mutters something under his breath. “Be happy that this is your sentence. You could be slumming it up in Azkaban, Malfoy,” she says sharply, “me and Harry being in control of when you get to use your wand is the least of your worries.”

“I just think it’s a little hypocritical that you two get to decide when I get my wand and when I don’t, when I haven’t killed anyone,” he says, huffing, “I let you all escape,” he mutters, “I lied for you.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “yes yes, good job on not killing anyone,” he mutters, “lord knows that it might have been easier if you had.”

“Man you guys say some fucked up shit,” Theo drawls, and he’s grinning, which, not a good thing. Stiles is always suspicious when Theo of all people grins. “McCall here is very anti killing. It’s the only reason that I am in fact alive.”

“Of course I’m against killing!” Scott calls out, eyes wide.

“Glad you are,” Harry says brightly. “Usually we are too.”

Stiles can’t help but laugh because Jesus Christ these guys are fucking unhinged, and he fucking loves it. “But not always?”

“I mean the guy that we are referring to was like,” he muses, “like magical Hitler, basically. He wanted to destroy everyone who wasn’t a pureblood wizard. Muggle, creatures, half-bloods or muggle born. He didn’t care. They all had to die.”

“Okay, I suppose I can concede to him having to be killed,” Scott mutters. 

“Thanks,” Harry drawls. “Still wasn’t fun to do, but that’s beside the point, and also not the focus,” he says, “magical house. Stiles said that he knew which house I was talking about.”

“Suspected,” Stiles says, “but Deaton all but confirmed it when I asked.”

“My family home,” Derek says, his eyes are far away, “it was burned by hunters that wanted to kill my entire family. Uncaring that there were humans inside. That there were children, young-” Derek falls silent when Stiles grabs his wrist. “It was torn down, recently. We tried to rebuild it but every time we did there was a problem. I- I’ve been thinking of pulling the entire foundation out. Just- just letting it get taken by the preserve instead.”

Harry frowns, “I- I’m not sure, but I think that maybe the house can be rebuilt. But with the help of magic. Of- of our kind of magic,” he says. “It’s different to whatever Stiles is. So it could work. We helped rebuild the magical castle that was our school.”

“I could ask mum to look in our library, for some books on rebuilding houses. Ancestral land, things like that,” Draco muses. He ignores the looks that the others give him. “I would wager the Black family has more than enough books on it.”

“Smart,” Harry muses, “Mia, you good with writing to Minnie about it?”

“Course,” she says rolling her eyes. 

“Just like that?” Derek asks, “you don’t even know us. Me. My family.”

“We might not know everything,” Harry says, “but I know there’s a reason I’m getting dreams about the house, and I think there’s a reason that Deaton asked for us. Because it wasn’t just about teaching us more about druids because he’s a fucking awful teacher.” Stiles snorts loudly. Very true. “We can help. So we’ll help. If you let us.”

“Just like that, no expectations in exchange.”

Harry winches, and he looks at Hermione once. She nods. “There is one thing you could do for us. For me,” he corrects himself. “I know of a little boy, that was born to a werewolf. He’s alone. No other wolves around him. It would- it would help me if you could teach me more about it.”

“It’s not a good idea for a werewolf to be alone,” Derek says instantly. “Werewolves are pack creatures. A wolf alone, without an Alpha to bond to, is an omega. They’re weak creatures and they’re likely to go feral. I doubt your magic would be enough to keep the werewolf sane.”

“His father wasn’t allied with a pack as far as I know,” Harry says, frowning. 

“Not every pack is as close as we are. Larger packs are scattered,” he adds, “he could have been part of one but not be near it.” 

Harry shakes his head, “he was ashamed of being a werewolf. But he wasn’t feral.” 

“Who are you talking about, Potter,” Draco demands. 

Harry closes his eyes, “Teddy Lupin,” he says softly, “Remus and Tonks. They had a baby. Just a month old by the time the battle hit.” 

“Merlin’s balls,” Draco hisses, “and- why did we not-” he stops and starts, closes his eyes too, inhales and exhales, “you didn’t trust us, did you? That’s why we didn’t know.”

“Draco-”

“No, it’s fair,” he says, holding up one hand to stop Harry from apologising. Those two, the four of them really, have such a weird relationship. “I understand that after everything my family needs to prove itself. That we need to show you that we can be trusted with the knowledge that I have a little cousin. That my mother’s sister is a grandmother. Is he- is she watching him?”

“Yes,” Harry answers, his eyes flick over Draco’s face. “He’s a lot like Tonks,” he says softly, “he’s clearly a Black.” Draco chuckles softly, shaking his head, “all I want to do is make him happy, protect him. He’s already been through so much.”

“I get it, Potter, I do,” he says softly, “I stand by my stance that you would have made a wonderful Hufflepuff.”

Harry barks out a laugh, grinning, and turning back. Clearly that was enough to defuse the emotion between them. He claps his hand, “so? We all help you with the house, and you guys help me with the baby werewolf?”

“The best you can do is find a werewolf pack in England,” Derek says. 

“Yeah, that’s-” he winches, “the werewolves packs in England don’t really trust me? Or vice versa. I’m aware not all werewolves are bad. But most of them aligned with the bad Hitler type man, and I killed that man. And one of my best mates kind of killed the strongest Alpha in England too, so there’s- the wolf packs are pretty unstable.”

“You’re going to have to explain the whole big bad Hitler wizard one day,” Stiles says. 

“Yeah, I will.”

“Then I suggest,” Derek says ignoring them both, “that you find a way to get him here. The longer he’s away from an alpha, the longer he’ll have problems with his other side. It’s especially important for born werewolves to be with a stable Alpha.”

Harry hesitates, “I’ll talk with his grandmother,” he says slowly, “but- but he could go to another Alpha later, if that’s what he wanted?”

“Beta’s can move to other packs if the Alpha accepts the beta, and the original Alpha releases them of the Pack bond,” he says, “it usually happens for mates or long-distance moves. So yes. He could.”

“Okay,” harry says, “I’ll talk with her about it tomorrow.”

Harry paces. They’re just at the edge of Beacon Hills, and he waits. “This is the right thing, Harry,” Hermione says softly, besides him. 

“I know,” he says, “he’s been getting restless, crying way more than a child should,” he says softly, “but it’s- he’s only seven months, Mia,” he says softly, “we barely survived the war. We’re barely sleeping through the night as it is. What if- what if we can’t give him what he needs?”

“You heard Derek. He’s a born wolf, he needs an Alpha.”

Harry nods slowly. He does. It was clear. “Andy said that his tantrums have gotten worse. He’s also been developing way faster than expected. He’s already crawling with ease. She thinks he’s almost ready to walk. He’s seven months!”

“You read up on baby’s huh?” she asks with a little laugh. 

Harry feels his cheeks flush. Can she blame him? He didn’t think he’d actually have to look after Teddy when Remus asked him to be a godfather, but he accepted. And he’s damn well going to make sure that Teddy is going to be raised by people that love him. And he knows that this is a bit too much for Andy. With the whole Werewolf dump. The fact she’s doing this says enough. 

The mirror fizzles, “are you there?” Andy asks, “at the coordinates?”

“We are,” Harry says. His heart is in his throat, “you’re welcome to come too. I promise.”

“My life is here,” Andy says, and she presses a kiss to Teddy’s head, “take care of him, Harry.”

“With everything I have,” Harry answers sincerely. She nods once and a blue light lights up around her. Teddy is put down and she casts a sticking charm. Harry waits with bated breath. He knows there’s a tracking charm around Teddy’s neck. That nothing can go wrong really. But he’s still relieved when a loud cry fills the air. Harry nearly drops the mirror, scooping Teddy up. 

“Hey teddy bug,” Harry murmurs, “it’s uncle Harry,” he rubs his cheek to Teddy’s head. The boy babbles, slapping his chubby fingers to Harry’s chin, rubbing his face into Harry’s neck. Yeah. He should have known. He’s seen the wolves scent mark each other during their pack meeting. He hears Hermione and Andy talk. Harry just rubs his chin into teddy’s head, humming softly. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs, “it’s time to meet some wolves.”

They decided to meet at the edge of the preserve. Stiles would be meeting them there and driving them to the old burned out house in the preserve. Harry watches the way Stiles practically melts for Teddy. Rightly so. “My dad is going to go crazy for this little guy.”

Harry laughs softly, “many people do.” He looks to the preserve, “Draco and Blaise are there already?” 

“Lydia took them,” he says with a nod, “most of the others run to it like heathens,” he drawls, “something about the excessive energy.”

Harry snorts, he puts Teddy in the little baby seat that they bought for him, strapping him in. He fusses unhappily, but Harry just keeps carting his fingers through his hair, listening to his little babbles. 

Harry knows when they’re close. The magic is heavy in the air. Cackling around him. Open, raw, hurt. “Damn,” Harry whispers, “that’s-”

“Heavy,” Hermione finishes, “it’s definitely going to need some work,” she says, and she climbs out of the car. Harry does too. It’s a little difficult to get Teddy out of the seat. He fusses and tries to move away quickly. Harry manages to get him out slowly, pulling him close. 

“Oh, he’s definitely a wolf,” Derek says. Harry can’t help but nod, he watches as Teddy shyly pulls away, looking at the new people. He extends his hand slowly, and Derek comes forward. He seems to have taken the lead because he’s the only other born wolf here. Derek bends forward, and Teddy slaps his face. Harry almost pulls away, but Derek laughs, putting his own hand on Teddy’s little fingers. “Hi pup,” he says softly, and his eyes flash a bright red. Harry nearly jerks away, but he doesn’t because Teddy coos and his eyes flash that gold that Remus also had. He giggles, cooing. Derek makes a similar cooing growl and Teddy wiggles, trying to get out of Harry’s grip. 

Harry gently puts him down and he grips Harry’s jeans to pull himself up. Derek crouches before him. Harry watches as Teddy practically launches himself at Derek babbling to him, rubbing his hands against his chin. Derek laughs, free, easy, and rubs his hand down Teddy’s back slowly, gently pulling him up after a quick look. It’s crazy. “I’ve got him,” Derek says softly. Harry nods watches them before he sets off to the house. 

“So?” Hermione asks, “wolf?”

“Look for yourself,” Harry says and he nods to where Derek is rubbing his beard into Teddy’s unruly hair. Teddy gives his playful growl and Derek answers in turn. It makes Teddy giggle madly. 

“Cute,” Stiles pipes up from besides him. “I’ve never really seen Derek with a pup,” he muses, and there’s something sad in it. In his voice. “So, what’s the verdict about the house?”

“I get what Potter means, it definitely needs some healing,” Draco answers. “The foundations though,” he trails off. 

“They’re the focus of it,” Hermione says with a nod. “Whatever happened, it was worst there.”

Stiles winches, “there was a secret tunnel out of the house in the basement,” Stiles says softly, “they tried to get out there, but the hunters had blocked it off too. Many died in there,” he says. 

“Shit, yeah, that makes sense,” Harry answers softly, his eyes turn to the foundations. It’s most of what’s left. It’s not blackened, not any more. He takes a deep breath and steps onto it. The concrete feels like it’s screaming. Blood soaked. Burned. Pained. Harry’s magic trashes, and all he can do is let it go. It swirls around his feet like fog, like gold dust, swirling around him as he walks. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, but he walks. A long swirling pattern that comes to a stop in the centre. Two thirds of the concrete is shining gold, he does it again, and again. Three swirls that meet in the middle. 

Harry nearly stops Teddy as he comes barrelling forward. Crawling, fast on his little legs, morphing. He pants as he yips. Harry watches bewildered, his little boy just changed into a wolf. His eyes widen more as a big black wolf comes forward, eyes glowing red. He steps onto the gold circle. Harry hesitates. Before he lets the magic curl around him, taking him over, letting it settle into his skin. His four paws landing on the concrete. 

“Grim,” Draco hisses from the sidelines. Harry throws his head back, rolling his eyes at him. Teddy yips. Following the swirls with his little nose. Derek walks them too and Harry follows them again, slowly. They all end in the centre. 

“Birth, life and death,” Hermione says softly. “The house has been through it all. Now it can start again.”

Harry would roll his eyes. Of course he plays the role of death in this equation. Derek huffs loudly. Teddy yips and he falls as he tries to jump, morphing back into human form. Harry can’t help but laugh, licking his cheek, before he pulls away, turning back human. The gold is gone from the surface, instead it’s burned into the concrete. The magic in the ground feels content, no longer seeking for something it won’t find. Just ready to be something new.

“Sometimes I hate you,” Draco mutters, holding out his hand. “I did research, I was ready to wow you all with magic. And then you do some ancient magic with wolf and death powers.” 

Harry laughs softly, “sorry man,” he says, putting Draco’s wand in his hand. “I don’t even know what I did,” he says, “wow away.”

Draco mutters under his breath. Something that only the wolves can hear because they laugh all. “What?”

“He said that nothing would wow like the goddamn magical spiral of ancient magic,” Derek drawls, he looks down at Teddy. “I didn’t expect him to turn to a wolf yet. And for you to be- whatever that was.”

“It’s kind of an Animagus form but not really?” Harry offers, “it’s- I think it’s because I died? When I- it’s a long story. But that’s why Hermione said I’m death. You’re life, he’s birth. The beginning, the middle, the end.”

Derek hums softly, and he looks at Harry. Harry smiles back, “you know if we’re lucky, we could have rebuilt this place by Christmas morning,” he says softly, pulling Derek and Teddy away. Teddy leans into Harry’s chest. Content now. Instantly. Clearly he needed a connection to an Alpha. 

“Christmas is two weeks away.”

Harry grins, “clearly you’ve never seen wizards at work,” he says, laughing, “and I bet you wolves can do things quicker too. No need to wait for a lift truck when you can just lift it up.”

“No I suppose not,” he says. 

Harry watches him look at the house, “maybe we get to celebrate Christmas in this place again,” he says softly, looking far away. 

Harry smiles, “and maybe you can celebrate solstice under the Nemeton again too, one day,” he says softly. “I think you’ll find it sprouting new shoots again soon.”

Derek looks at him curiously. Harry smiles. 

“So,” Stiles draws out, sidling up at them, “you think I could do the cool changing into animal form too?”

Harry grins, “I actually found something about Sparks, after asking my teacher about it,” he says, and he pulls the book out of his pocket, “I think you’ll find a lot of interesting things in there. I read about it,” he says, “and I think you could, if you just believed it,” he grins.

“Don’t start sounding like Deaton now,” Stiles says, wiggling his finger in his face. Harry laughs, brightly, uncaring. “Suppose I’ll read then,” he muses, “while you guys do the hard work of rebuilding an entire building in two weeks.” 

Harry shrugs, watching as Hermione and Draco turn to the piles of detritus from tearing down the building. They’ve done it before they can do it again. 

It was a lot of work. Remaking a house. But apparently Derek had an uncle that was more than willing to pull out all stops to make sure that the house would be done in time. “We’re helping! Stop bossing us around zombiewolf,” Liam yells out at Peter. 

Harry laughs, directing the beam up the wooden sides. Leaving it there. Scott sat on top, nailing it in place. Kira was on the other side, doing the same. It was easy, they did the acrobatic manual labour, while Harry and the others did the levitating into place. Draco, Lydia, and Peter were the ones with the designing. Apparently Derek and Peter had already redesigned the place, and Lydia was doing the finishing touches. It was kind of really fun. 

“Go team!” Stiles yells out, driving over. “I come bringing sustenance! Come eat you hungry animals,” he yells out, laughing as the pack descends. Harry follows the rest to the food, easily accepting the sandwich Stiles held out. Stiles grins, a book under his arms. 

“So,” he says, "I've been looking into warding, since I warded the city limits. And I was thinking we should ward the house. Ward it against fire mainly, but also similar warding as the one I put on Scotty’s place.”

“Smart,” Harry murmurs. He watches as Teddy tumbles around the other wolves on four paws. He’s been transforming a lot lately. Derek says it might be because his teeth are coming in and in wolf form he already has them. He watches him jump up to catch some meat thrown is way, yipping happily.

“Anyway, I read about the wizarding kind of warding, and the my kind,” he says, “and I was thinking we could definitely combine it. But then we’d need one person to do both.”

“You can’t have a spark and a wizard, man,” Harry laughs. Stiles just looks at him, eyebrow raised, “what? No. I’m just a wizard.”

“Just a wizard my ass,” Stiles counters. “I read the book, harry,” he says, eyes serious, “you fit the Sparks description. Elemental magic, trusting in what you do. Feeling magic.”

“There’s a lot more types of magic out there, Stiles,” Harry answers slowly.

“You’re a spark and a wizard, I just know it,” Stiles counters. “All the things I can do, you can do too,” he says, “and you knew about the nemeton. It’s like, connected to sparks. You know it is.”

“It’s- that’s-” Harry grumbles. “Fine. maybe. Hermione said the same thing.”

“Smart woman,” Stiles says pleased. “Look, I’m not saying that you gotta be any more then you are. I just- you brought the fucking house back to life. Or whatever the gold dust thing was that you did. Brought it peace again. Whatever. Just. I can put the protection runes down, you have Blaise put the warding down, he knew most about that. And then you connect the two. Easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy,” Harry repeats dully, “just do something I’ve never done before.”

“Knowing you it will be easy peasy,” Draco drawls.

“You’re just jealous,” Harry huffs.

“Jealous that you know magic that I never will? Obviously,” he drawls. “But at least I have control over my magic.” Harry feels bad about keeping his wand, holding it while they wait out Draco’s sentence. It will be over half a year before he gets to use his wand freely. 

“How come you know this kind of magic anyway?” Stiles asks, sitting down on a log. Harry settles besides him. He watches as all the wolves sit around them. Hermione and Lydia sitting on a conjured blanket. “Not sure, and I don't even really know it anyway. I just- I follow my instinct. I think it’s because of-” he hesitates, “something that happened when we were fighting the war.”

Stiles nods seriously. Harry and the others had explained the war after the last get together. “I know we joke about it, but Voldemort did try to kill me. If he did or not is up for debate, but I know that it changed me. There was this, this infusion of power. I don't think I could have won had he not tried to kill me. When he cast the killing curse on me, he used an object called the deathly hallow, there are three. A cloak, a stone and a wand. The elder wand to be precise. He used that to kill me. But there’s a theory that the master of all three objects is the master of death.”

“Let me guess, you had the stone and the cloak?” Lydia drawls.

“Yeah, I did,” he says, “one given to me by my father, the other by my mentor. The wand though, that had been mine because of a fight. Wands align with the wizard. When fought for and won they align themselves with a new wizard. The wand was Draco’s, and I won his wand and the loyalty of any other wands of his in a fight. And because of that I was the master of death.”

He shrugs, “I'm not sure if it just meant that it couldn't be used to kill me, or I'm somehow immortal. I just know that I’ve got a better or different understanding of magic. And I sometimes just know about magic that's been lost or something. It’s useless most of the time. If anything it’s dangerous. I have more power than I can use, and I barely know what I’m doing. All I know is that it works.”

“Master of death,” Draco grumbles, “that- that weirdly makes sense.” 

Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Master of the dead but also of the knowledge of the dead,” Blaise says solemnly, “you know of things that have died. Maybe you could even read dead languages.”

“I can't read Latin.”

“Because it’s not really dead,” Draco rolls his eyes. “Purebloods still use it. You use it. It’s the basis of our spells. He means the older stuff. Ancient Greek, hieroglyphics, stuff like that.”

“Oh,” Harry ducks his head, “who knows. Maybe.” 

“Well,” Stiles grins, “if you suddenly get the urge to do some magic when we’re warding this place, don't hesitate. We want that ancient shit.”

Harry laughs, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Alright story time is over,” Hermione claps her hands, “let’s get back to work.”

Stiles waits for a second as Harry sits there. “Tell me to fuck off, but, well, you once joked about being possessed,” he says slowly.

“I did?”

“It was to the others but Scott was listening in because we had to know if you were dangerous,” he says sheepishly.

“Ah.” Harry looks at him, “Voldemort tried to possess me when I was fifteen. And he was, well, in my head for a long time before and after that.”

“How do you deal with it?” 

“It’s-” Harry stretches out his legs, grinning softly when Teddy jumps onto his thighs, transforming back to human form and falling into a puddle on his stomach. “It’s hard. I mean, I was lucky. I got him out, you know? But I saw a lot of bad shit that he did. And a lot of it- I- I blame myself. I always think I could have avoided so much pain if I just- if I’d killed him sooner.”

“But you couldn't.”

“I couldn't,” Harry says. He grimaces, “I know it’s stupid. Blaming myself for what another did just because I saw it happen.”

“At least it wasn't your body,” Stiles says softly.

Harry cocks his head, looking at him. Those sweet green eyes are all gentle and worrying. He’d make a brilliant emissary. Stiles thought that he would be the one, when he read that Sparks bond to werewolf packs, but Harry- well, he’d be a better choice. 

“There was a fox demon,” Stiles says, “it possessed me. Killed- killed a lot of people including one of our own.”

“Ah.” Harry looks forward again, “you blame yourself.”

“I wasn't strong enough to protect myself from the demon.” 

“Stiles,” Harry says softly, “it was a demon. It possessed you.”

“You were strong enough to get magical Hitler out of your head at that age.”

“I’m also trained in magic, in mind magic at the time. And magical Hitler was dispelled because he was, he was broken and a sliver of a soul that could not even understand the power that love had. It’s- it’s not the same.”

“So many people died because I wasn't strong enough.”

“Would you warding it off have helped? Would he not have taken someone else?” Harry asks softly.

“Maybe,” Stiles whispers. “Maybe someone else that was super depressed at the time.”

Harry snorts softly, “I imagine there’d be a couple to choose from.”

“God you have no idea,” Stiles mutters.

Harry smiles at him softly, gently, “I know it’s hard not to take the blame. But it wasn't your fault. You’re not weak for not being able to protect your mind. But if it helps, I can try and help you figure out some mind protection stuff?”

“That would help,” Stiles says softly. He looks at the building. “You think it’s going to be up by Christmas?”

“I hope so,” Harry grins.

Harry was wandering again. It was late at night. He couldn't sleep and Teddy was safe. He knew he was safe. Hermione had made him put him in her room if he ever needed to wander and she didn't mind the pup climbing in her bed. 

“Harry,” a voice rumbles softly. 

Harry blinks up to see red eyes looking at him. For a second his heart stumbles with fear before he recognises them. “Derek.”

“I scared you,” he says softly.

“It’s not you, it’s the eyes,” Harry answers, softly watching as the werewolf comes to walk beside him. Their arms brush together. “Voldemort has red eyes,” he says softly, “I now think maybe because Alpha’s do? But I’m not sure,” he says softly. “I see them in my dreams still.”

“Understandable,” Derek says, “I have a thing with green eyes,” he says, “electric green. Kate, the woman that burned down our home, she- she did some things later too, before we managed to kill her for real. She had green eyes.”

“Oh,” Harry whispers, “I would say sorry but I can't do much about it. Much like your eyes.”

“So why are you wandering the preserve at 2am?” Derek murmurs, walking easily.

“I’m not sure,” he says softly, “I’m just going where my gut sends me, though I have a feeling it’ll be that tree.” 

“You’re on the right path if it is,” Derek says. “I barely remember it. The tree. It was cut down just around my birth. Peter said they did celebrate the solstice there. It was- around the time that the tree was cut was around the time my family started losing power. I just never-”

“Never knew it was that?”

“No. For generations we were the only werewolves that could change form. I think because we were connected to magic, because of the tree. Like your little boy. He’s got magic and the wolf. So he becomes it.”

“Maybe if we bring the tree back to life, the pack can all change, one day. Return the legacy,” Harry says softly. 

“Maybe,” Derek says. 

“I’ll be happy if it means we can be sure no dark druids try to use our land for bad things,” Derek says softly. 

Harry nods, that he can believe. He steps past the last branches into the clearing. He was right. There’s a shoot. A big one already. He reaches forward, letting some of his magic free. Watching it curl around it in little sparkles. Derek inhales shakily, behind him, “it’s actually growing. Peter said our family tried to regrow the nemeton so many times.”

“Sometimes a little magic can go a long way,” Harry says softly. He watches little leaves unfurl. “It’ll need care,” Harry adds, “winter isn't a good time to grow. Then again the weather here isn't too bad.”

“It’s California,” Derek drawls, “nothing like New York. I forgot what it was like to never have to act like it’s cold out.”

Harry laughs softly. “You should see a winter in the Scottish Highlands,” he smiles softly, “the snow could get as tall as me, especially in the first years when I was still short.” Derek laughs softly. “You grew up here, right?” Harry murmurs, climbing onto the tree stump. He gently follows the circle with his hand, watching the little shoot. 

“I did,” Derek answers.

“How old were you when you left?”

“Fifteen,” he says softly, “I was twenty when I returned.”

“That makes you, what? Twenty two.”

“It does,” Derek says softly.

“Huh I really thought you’d be like twenty five or something. You seem a lot more mature,” Harry says.

“I would think you’re a lot older than high school age.”

Harry laughs, “I’m eighteen, so technically, yeah. Though honestly I feel a lot older. Probably like you,” he adds softly. He stretches out, “I should probably sleep, we've got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

Derek snorts, “yeah, we do.” He looks at Harry for a long time, “sleep well.”

Harry smiles, “you too, Wolfie.”

Derek rolls his eyes but he morphs into wolf form, rushing off into the darkness. Harry almost runs after him but instead he apparates back home. Another time maybe.

Harry watches the proceedings. Hermione dug up a book on decorating a house, and Harry’s already seen Lydia talking with Draco and Blaise about it. It’s kind of crazy to see how they all interact. When they first started here Draco and Blaise kept mostly to themselves. After the first day they interrogated them both on everything they should know regarding technology, and kept quiet in classes. It was interesting. But Harry didn’t mind seeing them interact with others from the Pack. Everyone here doesn’t care that they might not know that people were actually on the moon. That they don’t know how to use google. They only care that they know magic, and that they are both willing and able to help rebuild this place.

Harry walks through the house, hand trailing over the walls. The basis is there. It’s part of the foundation, part of the house. But it also isn’t. Harry knows what a magical house feels like. He remembers walking through Grimmauld place and feeling the tendrils of magic reach out. He remembers the house opening a little more when Hermione arrived, muttering about stuffy dark air and wishing for windows. He remembers how everything suddenly looked a lot less sharp when Andy came over with little Teddy.

Maybe it’s because this house isn’t for wizards, but it’s something about it. About the house itself. It should have merged with the inherent power in the foundation. He and the others performed each spell they also used during the rebuilding of Hogwarts. It should have worked.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks, Derek and Scott on either side of him. 

“I’m-” he frowns, “not sure. It’s just, the magic isn’t-”

“Melding? Right?” Stiles asks slowly, “it’s like, my feet tingle on the floor, but nothing else I thought says- I am magic.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, annoyed. “It makes no sense. We’re doing this the same way Hogwarts was built. Minus the manual labour. But that shouldn’t matter. Hogwarts should have been more complex.”

“It’s still standing,” Derek says softly. “It might never be the house it used to be, but- but there will be a home again.”

Harry frowns, squinting, “did you know that the house was magical?” he asks slowly, “before?”

“I mean, it wasn’t a normal house,” Derek says slowly, “sometimes doors would jam, or they’d just vanish. Or doors would appear. I-” he laughs softly, “I remember when me and Cora were planning something secretly, there’d be a door between our rooms, so we could go and talk together without other’s knowing. And our bedrooms were, they were somehow quiet? No sound would go out of it, once the door was closed.”

“That last thing we’ve got going on,” Harry says slowly, “but that definitely sounds like a magical house,” he says.

“It sounds like the manor,” Draco pipes up. Harry curses, he and Stiles are the only ones that didn’t hear him approach. “Places like that, they only react to the people it’s connected to. You can feel the magic in Grimmauld because you’re a Black. I can feel it in the manor because I’m a Malfoy,” he says, “maybe only Derek and Peter will feel it here.”

“We’re werewolves. Everyone that’s pack is part of us,” Derek says, “no one needed to be family by blood.”

Harry can’t help the little snort he gives when Draco rolls his eyes, “obviously, but we,” he holds his hand between Harry and him, “aren’t ‘pack’, we’re just people to you all.”

Harry feels caught in Derek’s gaze when it locks with his. He knows that Draco is right. They’re not blood, nor pack, but Harry wonders if maybe he’s not the only one that wishes he was more than just a stranger, helping around. Teddy is part of them now. Harry knows that. Even if he’s being looked after by Stiles’ dad right now. He’s pack. 

“Maybe,” Stiles muses, “but then I would feel it, wouldn’t I? Maybe it’s just not finished yet? Any urges for random magic, Harry?” 

Harry snorts softly, “no,” he says, “no urges, sorry. Worst comes to worst this entire thing falls apart and we begin again, try something new.”

Derek hasn’t looked away from him, “you would stay here until it’s done?”

“I’m staying here anyway. Teddy has been flourishing being around the pack. You saw him yesterday,” he smiles to himself, remembering how Teddy had pulled himself up and ran. Actually ran into Derek’s arms when he saw him, muttering about alpha. 

“We’re going to have to teach him not to say Alpha in public,” Derek drawls and Harry can’t help but laugh. “But yes, I- he has been flourishing,” he says softly, “it would be nice for him to stay.” Harry smiles, ducking his head. 

“We’ll get it right, if not before Christmas, then after. It’s the least we can do. You’re all teaching us a lot about creatures in a way that we never would have learned before. I heard Hermione talking about maybe getting something written down, maybe learning more,” he says fondly, looking towards her, talking with Kira as they walk around the home. 

“Well, we’ll help where we can,” Scott says grinning. “So where do you want us today?”

Harry laughs, “painting.”

“Running off to let us do the hard work?” Stiles pipes up behind Harry. 

Harry laughs, “looking for you actually,” he says and he nods his head towards a small trail. “Come with me?”

“Where are we going?” Harry chuckles softly, “dude the more you hang around Deaton the more you start acting like it.”

Harry laughs louder, “we’re going to the Nemeton,” he says softly, “it’s an easy way there.” 

Stiles frowns softly, “are you there often? You seem to know your way around.”

Harry remembers some of the stories Derek told. About his pack, the one before this one, but also about them. The way he admired Scott and Stiles, how he just wants a new place to be. How he’s starting to feel like he gets to be because he knows he’s not the only one keeping watch. The only one making sure this town, their territory, is safe from danger. 

“It’s the magic,” he says softly and he stops, “close your eyes and let yourself feel,” he murmurs. He watches as Stiles almost freezes in place, only his chest moving as he breathes. His head turns slightly, towards the nemeton. It took a while before Harry figured it out. The tree and the house and the land are all connected. When one was cut down the rest wasn't safe, wasn't secure. 

“It's pulsing?”

“Breathing,” Harry smiles as he walks, following Stiles this time. “You read the book I gave you?”

“Mhm, sparks are the connection between the land and the pack,” he says, “they feed from the land, and give back to the land.”

“The Hale pack is very intertwined with the land,” Harry says, “werewolves have lived on this land for centuries. You know that it’s pretty rare for even wizarding wolves to have the full shift?” Stiles cocks his head, “there’s still a lot to be researched on the front of course, but Derek said that his entire family used to be able to turn into a full wolf, and we think it might have something to do with the power of the pack and the land. Especially with the power of the nemeton.”

Harry smiles brightly when they push past the last of the bushes and enter the clearing. The stump is still there, but Harry’s eyes instantly focus on the tree instead. Every time he comes here it’s bigger again. Unsurprisingly, Derek is already there, relaxed on the floor, looking at the tree. “Hey,” Harry murmurs, “brought Stiles,” he says. 

Derek turns to him, nodding, a small smile on his lips. “Wow,” Stiles breathes out. “It’s- it’s already a full tree.”

“It’s growing pretty hard,” Derek says, sounding so pleased. “Mostly because of Harry.”

“And the pack,” Harry counters even as he walks forward, and lets his magic curl around the little tree. The trees spread out a little more. “I’m not the best at herbology, but Blaise is pretty good. He and a friend of mine have been talking about it pretty much constantly. They’re both plant nerds,” he laughs softly. He would pay good money to see Neville look at the giant tree. “But it’s the magic of a spark too, that could help it.” And he turns to Stiles, who looks at him, “Sparks are the connection between the pack and the land. The thing that binds it together. That’s the whole reason they’re the pack’s emissary and all that. So you know, I just, wanted you to do that. Bind to the tree, or well, help the tree, like it’ll help the pack.”

“Me?” Stiles asks surprised. 

“Well, yeah,” Harry smiles, “you’re Scott’s emissary.” 

“Not- not officially. I was just, the only choice, you know?” 

Harry blinks, wait, huh? He frowns, looking between Derek and Stiles, “Why wouldn’t he choose you to be his emissary? I thought you guys were like, thick as thieves. Brothers?”

“We are!” Stiles says quickly. “But, I mean, you’re- you’re stronger?”

Oh. Harry settles on the edge of the cut down part of the nemeton. “I’m not going to be Scott’s emissary, Stiles,” he says, “you already are,” he looks at Derek. “I would be super happy if I could stay here, but I don’t belong on Scott’s side, you do. So you need to do this stuff too.”

“Oh,” Stiles looks pleased, looking down. “That’s- so how do I do that?” Stiles asks. Harry grins and beacons him.

The house is actually finished. It took two weeks, and not everything is perfect. But the living room is flush and warm, a fire playing in the fireplace, the kitchen is big and roomy. There’s a small library, Derek took things from the vault there. And the main bedroom, together with two guest rooms are finished. It’s not perfect, but the look in Derek’s eyes when he steps inside is more than worth it. Harry isn’t stupid enough to think it’s a surprise, but they all yell out anyway, laughing at the fake shocked gasp he gives. 

“It’s- it’s amazing,” Derek says, wide-eyed.

“Better hope so,” Draco mutters, “we did a lot of work,” he says. 

Harry snorts, and he grins as the way the pack all spreads out, laughing and chatting. Dinner being put on the table, laughter. Christmas Eve together with the Pack. And Harry feels so happy that he gets to be a part of it. That he gets to sit there, laughing with a Pack of werewolves and other creatures. 

“I heard from Minnie,” Hermione says softly. “She says we can come back to school after Christmas break.”

“Can?” Harry asks, looking up from feeding Teddy little scraps of meat. 

“Apparently she doesn’t necessarily expect us back. Draco has to return, but if we want to stay, we’re- it’s not like we’re not legal adults.”

Harry looks around. Watches the Pack laugh, watches as the Sheriff makes funny faces at Teddy, making the little boy laugh. “I guess she’s right,” he says softly. Hermione looks at him. A look he knows. The one that shows that she looks right through him. That she knows. Understands. Harry wants to stay. Teddy is happy, he’s happy. He’s- he’s free here. Free to be Harry. Yes, he’s overpowered, but he’s surrounded by strong werewolves, Kitsune’s that know how to use katanas, and a banshee that could kill him with her scream or some brilliant way because she’s so goddamn smart. 

Hermione’s hand squeezes his and she smiles, nodding. She too, knows. And feels it. The question is if the people around them will even really want them to stay. 

“When you said you were going to do the dishes I kinda expected to walk into magic washing it all,” Derek says softly. 

Harry laughs, “I thought about it, but I wanted to do something with my hands. And- and just have a moment of rest,” he laughs softly, “they’re great, but a lot,” he says. Derek snorts softly, nodding and he smiles, grabbing the towel. “Is it what you hoped it would be?” he asks softly, “does it feel like home?”

“It’s still different,” Derek says slowly, “but I also think that’s good. The pack is different. And the house reflects that.” He takes the pan as Harry hands it over, “but it’s good. It feels- feels good.”

“Good,” Harry says softly. 

“Are you thinking of leaving?” Derek asks softly. “I- well you know us werewolves, so I couldn’t help but listen in.”

“I-” Harry looks at his hands, looks out of the window, “I’m thinking of staying, actually,” he says softly, “it’s- it’s nice being here. I like this place, and the pack,” he says, and he looks at Derek, “Being in the preserve.”

“Well, there’s space here, as you know after building the house yourself,” Derek says softly. “You’re welcome to stay if you want,” he says. “Teddy is part of us, and of course we’d let him go, but everyone loves him, and we’d- we’d all love it if you stayed.” 

Harry ducks his head, “yeah?”

Derek smiles softly and he pulls himself up the counter, leaning back, “a spark, they have more purpose than just connecting the pack to the land. They- they help an alpha find their balance. You remember the Alpha pack I told you about?” Harry nods, “that’s why they were all unhinged, they didn’t have their balance. They didn’t have a spark to help them, to balance them. It would be an honour if you would think about being that for me. I might not be the alpha of this pack, so it won’t be a lot but-”

“This is your land,” Harry says softly, “I know that Scott is the true alpha of the pack, but this land? This house? It’s yours. It’s part of your blood.” He smiles, “I kinda hoped you’d want that. It would- it would be an honour,” he says sincerely. 

“Yeah?” Derek asks so shy, so hopeful. God. Harry forgets sometimes that Derek is just a kid too. That he isn’t all that much older. He’s in his early twenties. And he’s been through so much. 

“Yeah, and if you’re for real, I would love to ah, stay here, at least for the beginning,” he grins. 

Derek grins, and he lets out an exasperated laugh when there’s a loud cheer in the living room. 

“What?” Harry asks with a laugh. 

“Nosy bastards listened in and Scott just said that you said yes,” he says, and he winches, “there’s very little secrets in a pack. So no keeping anything quiet.”

Harry laughs, “don’t worry, I kind of hate secrets anyway,” he smiles, “c’mon,” he sends a quick spell to the rest of the dishes, “let’s celebrate.”

“Heard you got yourself a new spark?” the Sheriffs says, grinning. “New job, new home, new spark.”

“Job?” Derek asks, “yeah?” 

The Sheriff laughs softly, and holds out his hand, “welcome to the force, son,” he says solemnly. Derek’s face breaks out in a bright grin, and Harry laughs at the loud whoop Stiles gives.

“A real Christmas miracle,” Melissa laughs softly, smiling. Harry laughs, and he grins, yeah, it does kind of feel like one. Derek grins, and everyone laughs. Harry settles into the couch, smiling when Teddy curls up on his lap. He looks around. Everyone here is different, but god it feels good to belong. To have them as his friends, his family. 

He grins when Hermione curls around him, “So we’re staying, huh?” 

“Yeah, we are,” he says softly, and he smiles up at Derek. “We’re staying.”