Molly was delighted to see Severus and Harry apparate into the fire-grate in a mess of soot and green sparks. Severus, however, was less than impressed. The layer of soot in the grate left dirty smudges on his clothes and caused the toddler to sneeze loudly and then burst into irritating fits of giggles. It seemed that the Weasleys were more than a little haphazard with the housework.

‘Sorry dear,’ Molly said, trying to dust Snape off, her cheeks pink, ‘I was just about to get round to that. Really Arthur,’ she snapped, spinning around ‘you did say that the grate was fit for apparation!’

Arthur shrugged sheepishly, trying to conceal the smudges on his own clothes that he had received on the way home from work, ‘I thought it was …’

‘Me mucky,’ Harry said looking himself up and down. The pumpkin on his jumper was looking decidedly fed up, and Cheep-Cheep was squawking at the black covering over her feathers. He looked up at the Batman and giggled. ‘Nape mucky too,’ he said before singing, ‘Nape bath, Nape bath,’ over and over again.

‘Do be quiet, Potter,’ Snape snapped irritably, ‘or it will be you to receive a bath.’ He removed his wand from his robes and cleaned the soot from himself with one flick. Harry fell silent. He knew the type of bath Snape gave when he was in a bad mood, and it rarely had bubbles in or duckies to play with.

‘What brings you to the Burrow?’ Molly said brightly. ‘Harry missing Tommy already was he? I told you children can be fickle. I wasn’t at all surprised when I got your message, was I Arthur? I believe you’ve been to the seaside today, how lovely? Won’t you come and sit down and have a cup of tea.’

Snape pursed his lips as he wondered, not for the first time, at the amount of different conversations Molly Weasley seemed able to initiate at once.

‘No thank-you,’ he said curtly. ‘I wish to see the children. All of the children.’

Molly glanced at Arthur, unable to conceal her surprise. ‘Of course, Severus. Arthur, will you go and fetch them please?’

‘Certainly dear. All the children, you say?’

‘Yes,’ Snape said.

‘Well Tommy is having his afternoon nap at the moment, but I’m sure he’ll be up soon,’ Molly said with a smile.

‘I wish to see all the children now,’ Snape repeated.

‘Well I don’t really like to wake him,’ Molly began. ‘He hasn’t been sleeping very well you know, poor mite, he keeps waking up and wondering where he is I should think …’ As Molly’s eyes fell on Severus, however, she noted his serious expression and seemed to change her mind. She went on, ever-so-slightly-huffily, ‘Very well, Arthur, fetch all the children for Severus.’

Arthur turned on his heel to climb the creaking pine staircase that led to the second floor of their home, ducking automatically to avoid the low slant above his head as experience had taught him.

In the silence that followed, Molly realised that Severus had never spent much time in the Burrow before. She wished she had thought to spruce it up a bit when she found out he would be dropping in. She wasn’t sure of the surroundings he was used to, but she had the feeling that it was something a little grander than the wooden country cottage with its mess of coloured bric-a-brac and, what Molly liked to refer to as homely jumble. The pots and pans were still unwashed from the lunch time broth and a game of wizard chess, that she had been teaching the boys to play, laid obliterated the middle of the living room floor. When it was filled with children her home was always the same. It was the way Molly liked it. She had thoroughly enjoyed having the Pickle children around, even though she was sensible enough to realise that it would not be forever. It was particularly nice now that her own children were either grown up, away at school, or, in Percy’s case, estranged from the family.

‘Er, won’t you sit down?’ she said to Severus at last, when the silence was on the verge of becoming uncomfortable. She gestured to the plumpest looking purple armchair. It was positioned under a bay window that looked out into the lush garden and the brightly coloured flowers that littered it haphazardly. The Weasleys usually fought tooth and nail to sit in it.

Snape inclined his head but did not move. ‘No thank you,’ he said.

Molly was nonplussed. In all the time she had known the potions master she could never remember him accepting the offer of a seat. It was as though he thoroughly expected to leave his surroundings suddenly at any moment; which, she thought to herself with a little shudder, was quite probable under the current circumstances. She knew as well as the other members of the order that as soon as the Dark Mark burned his arm he was expected to apparate away in an instant.

‘Mwolly!’

Molly looked down to see Harry tugging at the hem of her green flowered robes,

‘Hi,’ he said shyly.

Molly beamed at the distraction. She stooped down to raise Harry high into the air. ‘Sorry, young man, I nearly forgot about you didn’t I? Would you like a biscuit?’

‘Yes please,’ Harry said. It seemed ages since he had had his fish and chips.

Molly busied herself putting together a plate of ginger biscuits that the children had helped her to bake the day before. Before Harry had even had chance to polish off the first one, however, Arthur reappeared with Michael and Lee in tow and Tommy red-faced and wriggling in his arms. To Molly’s horror, the smudges of soot on her husbands clothes (nothing escaped Molly’s eyes) had been replaced by a thick covering of white powder covering him from head to robes.

‘Really Arthur!’ she chided. ‘What on earth have you been doing?! All I asked was for you to fetch the children, was that really such a difficult instruction to follow?’ She began to fuss round him, sucking the powder rapidly away from his clothes with her wand.

Harry laughed. ‘Snowman,’ he said, pointing at Arthur.

Arthur grinned. ‘I had to change Tommy first and he wasn’t overly pleased about it. I think he’s quite grouchy actually from being woken. He kicked a cloud of that muggle powder all over me. Quite curious stuff actually,’ he added, wiping some from his face with a finger and then holding it to his nose to sniff. ‘It dries the skin and it smells nice. These muggles certainly do have interesting ways of combating nappy rash - and so simple too.’

‘I’m sure Severus is not interested in your opinions on muggle baby powder,’ Molly said sternly. ‘Now come along boys, come and say hello to Professor Snape.’

Michael and Lee hung back. They eyed the greasy-haired professor with distrust. They knew that Snape had taken care of Tommy at first, but they had never met him first hand before. Before he had apprated to the Burrow, Snape had clothed himself in his uniform black robes. Michael couldn’t help thinking how much he reminded him of the first wizard they had come into contact with – Lucius. He knew Lee was thinking the same because he could hear his breathing quicken, and he stood protectively in front of his younger brother.

‘Michael, Lee,’ Molly chided, ‘I said say hello.’

‘No,’ Michael said. ‘I don’t trust him.’

Molly once again turned pink. ‘Well really!’ she said. ‘You could both show a little more respect. Professor Snape is one of the most valued teachers at Hogwarts. Haven’t we already had a talk about manners once today?’ she added sternly. It seemed that the Pickles, though they were kind and pleasant enough boys, were a little more street wise than Molly’s own brood had been at that age. Some of the language they used was certainly more colourful, and their boisterousness often made the twins seem as well behaved as Hermione. They were also fiercely loyal. When Molly had scolded Michael for breaking one of her favourite teapots, Lee had not left his side. What Michael did, Lee did, and she noted that Lee was now also looking at Snape with identical dislike. She was just about to open her mouth to protest again, when Severus beat her to it.

‘I see your meeting with Lucius has made you wary,’ he said smoothly. ‘You are perhaps wise.’ He edged slowly towards them. ‘However, as Molly said, I am a Professor at Hogwarts school, in the employment of Albus Dumbledore. You have met him I take it?’

Michael nodded reluctantly and Lee immediately followed suit. They had both been impressed by the white-haired wizard with his calming air and twinkling blue eyes.

‘Then perhaps you might believe his recommendation.’

‘Why are you wearing those robes then mister?’ Michael said. ‘They make you look like a Death Eater. I bet you even have that mark on your wrist like he had.’

Molly could not help but gasp slightly.

‘That’s quite enough, Michael,’ Arthur said evenly. ‘Professor Snape is a guest in our home and you will please treat him with respect.’ Both he and Molly were well aware that Snape did have the Dark Mark upon his wrist, but neither would be keen to see it again. It was too rude a reminder that Snape had once been a Death Eater.

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer. ‘Appearances can be deceptive, Mr Pickle. I think perhaps you have a lot to learn. Do you really believe that a set of robes and an emblem determine the wizard? If so then you are very childish indeed. Tell me, do all your criminals dress in hooped jerseys?’

Michael thought for a few moments. He felt Lee tug on his jumper.

‘If Dumbledore thinks he’s alright, maybe he is?’ his younger brother whispered.

After a few moments more silence, Michael conceded. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But I’ll be keeping my eye on you.’

If any of the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had spoken to the potions master in such a way they would have been on the receiving end of a most unpleasant detention; but, in this instance, Snape let the remark pass. He realised that the time the boys had spent in the company of Lucius had coloured their views and he could not really blame them.

He stepped forward and took Tommy from Arthur’s arms. The small boy stopped fussing at once and peered up at the potions master. He recognised the strong hold of the arms immediately. He had enjoyed himself with Nape and the funny little boy Hawwy. They had been very kind to him. He smiled up with a gummy grin, now punctuated by a couple of small teeth that had been very painful in their coming.

‘Napey,’ he said giggling.

Snape felt a tug on his robes, and didn’t need to look down to know it was Harry. As he did look down, however, he saw stubborn green eyes and sighed sharply. ‘Please detangle yourself from my robes Potter,’ he said.

Molly came to the rescue. She stooped down and picked Harry up. ‘Come on dear,’ she said. ‘Have another biscuit. Professor Snape won’t be long.’

Harry hesitated, but in the end, noting the look in the batman’s eyes, relented and allowed himself to be carried towards the plate of biscuits. He hoped with all his might that Tommy would not be coming with them to live again.

‘He has not aged,’ Snape said, more to himself than anyone else.

Michael stepped forward slightly. ‘Do you know how to change him back now, mister?’ he asked.

‘It’s not that simple, Mr Pickle,’ Snape said.

‘Why not?’ Michael demanded. ‘Just wave your wand at him or something.’

Snape ignored the childish remark and concentrated on the child who was sitting in his arms, wriggling slightly, searching the pale skin of his arms and legs with sharp eyes.

‘Down,’ Tommy said, pointing to Harry. His stomach felt rumbly and he wanted one of the biscuits that Harry was tucking in to.

‘He must be hungry, Severus,’ Molly said stepping forward. ‘He has only had a bottle this morning.’

Harry scowled immediately. It had been aged since he’d had his bobba.

‘This will not take long,’ Severus said. He beckoned Michael over. The young boy was dressed in a large sleeveless shirt that looked like it had belonged to an elder Weasley boy. It hung low over his neck and as he stepped forward it slipped down. What it revealed caused Snape’s breath to quicken ever-so-slightly in excitement. He pointed a finger to the port-wine stain on the boy’s upper chest.

‘A birth-mark, Mr Pickle?’

Michael pulled his shirt up self-consciously. ‘Yeah, so?’ he snapped.

‘Michael,’ Molly warned again.

‘Tell me, Mr Pickle, does Tommy have a similar mark?’

Michael shrugged. ‘Yeah, we all do. Ma calls it the Pickle curse.’ He saw something strange flash through the wizard’s eyes, and carried on slowly, ‘One of my younger brothers has his on his cheek. I’m always thumping some kid or other for teasing him about it.’

Snape heard Molly click her tongue, but he was not interested in the boy’s confessions. ‘Where is Tommy’s?’ he asked. Snape’s whole body was tense as he waited for the reply.

Lee spoke up. ‘It’s on his back,’ he said, ‘Like mine.’

‘Is it important?’ Arthur asked curiously.

‘It could be,’ Severus said. Very Important he added to himself. He stooped down and placed Tommy on the floor and began to undress him. Tommy, however, seemed to think it was a game. Every time Snape popped the small chubby arm out of the sweatshirt, Tommy giggled and put it back in. Sighing, Severus clicked his fingers, immediately leaving the toddler naked from the waist up. All at once, the elder occupants of the room seemed to step forward, surrounding Tommy in a circle.

‘There’s nothing there!’ Michael said. He looked round wildly at the potions professor. ‘Does that mean he’s not my brother then?’

Snape stood up. ‘On the contrary,’ he said. ‘It is as I expected. This is indeed your brother; however, the birth mark is no longer a feature of his body.’

Molly picked Tommy up and muttered a spell to reclothe him. He was giggling away again, obviously thinking this was the next part of the game.

‘But Harry’s scar remains,’ Arthur said thoughtfully.

‘Mr Malfoy cast the spell whilst it was still its infancy,' Snape said, but he only half-heard his own voice as his mind worked furiously. He had felt that an answer had been within a fingernail’s width since his eyes had fallen for the hundredth, hundredth time to Potter’s scar in Whitby. Now he felt that he had reached it.

Snape had wondered again and again why the curse had transformed the boy to a place in his life where he had just received one of the worst and most unusual scars the wizarding world had ever seen received, and he had always questioned the fact that the spell was simply a tool to transform the victim into a baby – the Dark Lord had far more powerful weapons he could use on his adversaries than that. But now it became clearer. In fact, there wasn’t really an intended victim at all. What was evident to Snape was that since it had been used on Potter, the spell had been improved and refined by Lucius to a point where it would now rid the receiver of anything that might have marred the body the first time they had lived their life – such as scars and birthmarks. Importantly, it also retained what had formed the elder mind. For example, Potter still had somewhere within the memories that had shaped his personality. Could there, then, be a more powerful way for the Dark Lord to return himself to full strength? Snape had seen first hand his twisted appearance – the slatted red eyes and the sunken nose that made him snake-like in countenance. Yes, the spell he had performed at the end of the Triwizard tournament had restored him to a living being, but even Severus could see that there was something that warped him – body and soul. This curse would be a way for the Dark Lord to reverse the effects the half-life he had previously lived had exerted upon him.

More. Snape had long suspected that the Dark Lord had spliced his soul into a Horcrux – maybe even more than one. This curse would restore the corporal part to a whole, and, Snape suspected, without marring the other parts of the soul contained elsewhere - separate fragments which had no relation to the body on which the curse would be cast. In fact if it did not do this then it would be less than useless to the Dark Lord.

The curse may also sever the connection between the Dark Lord and Potter, because it would be as though the killing curse had never resounded on the pair all those years ago. This would thus shatter the prophecy that had been the obsession of the Dark Lord for nearly fifteen years. In short, it would be everything that the Dark Lord had ever dreamed of. Snape had spoken truthfully to Lucius when he had told him that he sensed the Dark Lord tired of him and that he was on the verge of some triumph that would mean he would no longer need him. It now became clear that this was it; a curse that would make him more powerful and untouchable than the Order could ever imagine. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the way in which the curse would bring the reborn back to adulthood. There must be a quick antidote that the Dark Lord or Lucius had designed as Snape could not imagine that his old master would wish to remain as an infant for as long as Harry and Tommy had done.

‘But what does it mean, Severus?’ Molly said, bringing Snape back to the present. He sensed six pairs of eyes on him.

‘I need to get back to Hogwarts,’ Snape said at once. ‘Come along Potter.’ Harry immediately ran to his side and Snape reached down for the small hand. He wondered with sudden insight if it was the Dark Lord’s intention to also curse Potter with the spell - to make sure that the connection between them was indeed severed once and for all on both sides. It was possible – he seemed fixated with the notion that Potter be there to witness every step of his return to glory – perhaps because it had been the boy who had also been the only witness to his demise. Snape hope this was the case. If it was then it bought them all more time.

‘But Severus …’ Molly protested as he advanced to the grate.

Arthur put his hand on her arm. ‘We will know in good time, my dear. Let Severus get back to the castle, and Dumbledore.’

Molly did not say anything more. She kept the children back as the two figures apparated with speed to Hogwarts.

‘Look, how am I supposed to know what father was up to?’ Draco demanded irritably.

He and Hermione were walking in the grounds just beyond Hagrid’s hut and near to the lake. She had practically stalked him after breakfast until he finally he left Crabbe and Goyle to go and practice Quidditch and she had been able to catch him on his own. Draco privately thought she was taking a risk. He already made up his mind that should any Slytherin’s see them together, then he would have to curse her to prevent them growing suspicious. A silencio hex would probably be the best option, he thought grimly. At least then he could get some peace and quiet.

‘You saw him afterwards,’ Hermione reasoned.

‘How do you know that?’ Draco said, stopping and turning towards her with surprise. As far as he was aware, only Snape had been witness to the unpleasant exchange with his father.

‘I followed you,’ Hermione said, turning pink. ‘I wanted to see what Lucius was going to do.’

‘Always sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you, aren’t you Granger?’ Draco spat bitterly. ‘Well if you did see then you would know that father and me didn’t exactly exchange pleasantries.’

Hermione bit her lip, absentmindedly smoothing down her wild, bushy hair with the palm of her hand. She remembered the cold anger Lucius had turned upon his son as he struck him with the serpent headed cane. She knew that Draco would be less than pleased that she had been witness to it. She could not abandon the subject, however. It was not in her nature to let something lie if she really believed that it could help; she was convinced that getting to the bottom of Lucius’ purpose that day may be a step towards restoring Harry to his original teenage self.

‘Look Draco please,’ she pressed, ‘what happened after I left you?’

Draco ignored Hermione and carried on walking. His eyes automatically sought the vast blue lake, which today was littered with choppy white ripples formed by the gusts of wind blowing over the surface and the beginning of a fine, drizzly rain.

In truth, he did not care to recall what had happened next on the morning of the Quidditch match. It had been only minutes later when he had looked into his father’s mind and seen for the first time his cruelty laid bare through the plight of the Pickle children - thus setting into motion a chain of events that Sir Dapper, the oracle of the lake, had predicted would have far-reaching consequences. Try as he might, though, he could not shake the looks of terror and despair on the faces of the children. The middle child in particular haunted Draco the most. He had seemed almost resigned to their fate, with an acceptance that death was near; it seemed that he was simply waiting to see in what form it would occur.

Snape had informed him the day previously that the Pickle children had been rescued. Draco had been pleased. He knew what it as like to be on the receiving end of his father’s anger, and it would have been many times worse for the muggle children. He also knew that his father was, for the time being at least, safe from recriminations and, perhaps confusingly, this also pleased him.

It appeared that Lucius had not guessed that information leading to the rescue had come from Draco. But Draco was under no illusion that this would remain the case. It was only a matter of time before he was found out - he had never been able to successfully hide anything from his father for long.

‘Draco please,’ Hermione said. ‘I know that it was you that helped the Pickle children. If there is something else that you can help the order with then you must at least try …’

Draco whirled round on the slighter witch. ‘Must I?’ he demanded. ‘Who says I must? Maybe I’m helping father with whatever he had planned. Had you ever thought of that? That would be what your precious Potter would think.’

Hermione was horrified. ‘But – But I thought?’

‘You thought what?’ Draco raged, ‘that we were all friends now or something? That we could have cosy little chats by the lake? Or perhaps that I would help put my father away in Azkaban for the amusement of you and the other Gryfinndors?’

‘No- that’s not what I meant. I- I realise that it must be difficult for you.’

‘You don’t know ANYTHING,’ Draco yelled. ‘Just leave me alone Hermione.’

He then threw himself down on the grass by the lake, pulling his robes protectively around his thin shoulders. It all seemed so black and white for everyone else he thought with self-pity. Hermione was a mudblood, and that automatically told her what side she was meant to defend. Now it seemed that she expected him to forget how he had been brought up and go in league against his father? He wouldn’t do it!

‘Draco …’ Hermione sat down gently next to the Slytherin prefect. ‘I’m sorry. I’m won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to do. I know that you’ve already done more than enough for us, and I know that everyone is grateful for it.’

Draco said nothing. They sat in silence, side by side, drinking in the view of the lake. He thought over his childhood, and over the endless disappointment he had faced at the hands of his father. His remembered and felt again the constant tension he experienced at their manor - his mother going along with Lucius’ every wish simply to keep the peace. He remembered the fear in her pale eyes every time his father came home late from a meeting with an unexplainable spring in his step. He then thought of Severus Snape; the way his house master presented two faces to the world with such ease, that no one, perhaps not even Snape himself, knew exactly which one he truly believed in. Finally he sighed.

‘I don’t know what my father was carrying,’ he said. ‘I saw a flash of silver, no more.’

Hermione felt a crushing disappointment, her shoulders slumping. It seemed that whatever Lucius had been up to was destined to remain a mystery to her.

‘I suppose it was a bit of a long shot,’ she said sadly.

Draco thought carefully before speaking his next sentence.

‘But I know how to enter the chamber of St Filiwell.’