"OUCH!" yelped Sirius, and swatted at Inky, who had decided to climb up his leg for some unknown reason. "Sev, this bloody cat thinks I'm some sort of scratching post. You need to clip his claws."

I put the book down I'd been reading and looked over at my friend, who was rubbing his leg and scowling at the black bundle of trouble now sitting next to him on the sofa. "Yes, the spell I used to blunt them must be wearing off. I'll renew it in a minute," I said, smirking slightly. Sirius always thinks he's so wonderful with animals because he is an Animagus, and most animals love him. But for some reason his legendary charm doesn't work on Inky, the little mischief-maker, and the cub ignores Padfoot when he chooses.

I summoned a piece of beef jerky into my hand and clicked my tongue at Inky, who looked at me, sniffed, and bounded towards me. The cub's still awkward, all big feet, gangly legs, and long tail. But soon he'll be past that stage and become as graceful and poised as any member of the feline species I've ever known.

"Good boy, Inky," I murmured, feeding the hungry cub the jerky and petting him about the ears. He loves that and purred up a storm. Then I drew my wand and recast the charm that blunted his claws and teeth so he didn't harm Harry when he played with my son. I wasn't about to permit any half-wild cub to maim my child, not by Merlin's starry hat. Still, Inky was learning to be gentle, and he was a lot calmer now than he was a few weeks ago. This was a smart panther, he learned very quickly, and for that I thanked God and Merlin daily.

After he had devoured the treat, he rubbed up against my cheek, asking for another scratch behind the ear. I obliged and the silly cub plunked his backside down in my lap like he was a lap cat, eating up the attention. "Cat, I do not live to serve you," I muttered into one rounded ear. "I don't care what they worshipped back in ancient Egypt."

Inky just yawned and stretched out across my knees like a velvet throw, his green eyes half-closed. I heaved a sigh and ran my fingers through his silky black pelt. He was shedding, I needed to remind Harry to brush him when he got home from school.

Sirius chuckled and I gave him a sharp look amid the sudden blizzard of cat hair. "You have something to say, Padfoot?"

"Uh, yeah. You look real content like that Sev, with the cub sprawled all over you. You ought to be in Magical Pets and Their Owners magazine."

I rolled my eyes. "Very funny, Sirius." But I continued stroking the little nuisance, despite the fact that his fur was making my nose itch. I wasn't allergic to pet dander, but sometimes Inky's hair tickled, and I had a very sensitive nose.

I picked up my book again, for once it was a novel and not a medical treatise, and began to read, reveling in the quiet. It wouldn't be for long, Harry was due to arrive home in half-an-hour. I glanced sidelong at Sirius, who was relaxed as always, and asked, "So, have you spoken to Melinda yet?"

"I wrote to her three times and she hasn't answered any of my letters. Maybe I just ought to go over there and wait outside the flat for her to come home, ambush her, and make her talk to me."

"Sirius, somehow I don't think that will help you any. Give her some space. If she hasn't responded to your letters by the end of the week, then go confront her. But for now, just be patient."

"I hate being patient."

"I know, patience was your worst subject," I teased gently. Normally Sirius would've smiled at my wit, but not today. "Feel free to watch TV before Harry gets home. I have to pick him up soon."

So Sirius turned on the TV and flicked through the channels, he'd learned a few things about Muggle technology staying at my house, which was a mixture of things wizard and Muggle. Lily and I had wanted it that way. I was a half-blood, born to a witch mother and Muggle father and had grown up mostly Muggle, Lily had been Muggleborn and hadn't known about magic until she met me one day in the park. We were seven and she had just jumped off a swing and flew through the air for about seven feet before floating to the ground. Luckily, the only ones to see her were me and her older sister, bossy pain-in-the-arse Petunia. I had been the one to explain to her that she had magic and was a witch, and that had been the start of a friendship that had lasted all of our lives.

I continued to stroke Inky, thinking of how proud Lily would've been if she could have seen her son now. She would have loved Inky too. If only she were here, then my family would be complete. Two and a half years was not long enough to still the longing in my heart for her sweet face and her lovely emerald eyes, not nearly long enough to forget the way she felt in my arms and the taste of her lips on my own. I sighed, quickly smothering those thoughts. She had so wanted another child-my child-but her disease had prevented her from getting pregnant, and besides, she wouldn't have been able to carry a child to term. But she had felt guilty nevertheless, until I told her it didn't matter over and over, that Harry was my son and enough for me. It had been true, and still was.

My six-year-old scamp was enough to turn my hair permanently gray on some days, I didn't even want to think about having to deal with a baby on top of it. Even though I would have loved a little girl, with Lily's face and eyes and my dark hair. Ah, well, if wishes were horses beggars would ride, as my father used to say. I turned back to my book, but had only read the first chapter before the timer I'd set beeped, reminding me it was time to go to the corner and wait for Harry to get off the bus.

I used to walk him to and from school, before the Death Eaters who had attacked me had been rounded up and put in Azkaban. But lately, my son had been growing more independent, and he wanted to take the bus to school like the other kids. So I allowed him, knowing that he wanted to fit in with the other children as much as possible. Though magic was always a part of us, there still was that desire to be just like everyone else, and I could understand that, and I didn't want to rob my son of his childhood, the way mine had been robbed.

That was a bit of a sore point with me still, even though I had resolved to patch things up with my father. There were still little pockets of resentment lingering, for I had been made to grow up too fast and what should have been the carefree days of my childhood had been marked with pain and fear and sorrow. I never wanted my son to know the sort of suffering I had, and that was why I made sure to never punish him too harshly and to also make sure he knew that I loved him no matter what. Tobias thought I indulged the boy too much, allowing him to keep Inky, but sometimes a little indulgence is a good thing.

I gently placed the sleeping panther back on the sofa and went to pick up my son, who I was sure had a dozen and one new things to tell me, as always. Sure enough, as soon as his feet had touched the pavement, he was chattering away to me like a little magpie.

"Dad, guess what? We got a new student today, her name's Hermione, her parents are dentists and she's got magic just like me!" That last part was said in a whisper, for we were still partially in Muggle London, at least until we rounded the corner. Harry was so excited he was skipping, or perhaps that was so he could keep up with my longer strides. I slowed down some, so he didn't have to run to keep up, and once we were back on Aspen Avenue, he told me all about Muggleborn Hermione Granger.

"She's real smart, Dad, she reads better than I do," here he sounded a bit put out, and I had to fight to keep from smiling. Oh ho, not used to playing second fiddle to a girl, are you, my boy? But the competition was good for him, he'd realize that later.

"Well, you'll simply have to practice your reading, now won't you?" I prompted. "Why don't you read to me before bedtime tonight instead?"

"But Daddy, I can't do all the voices like you," Harry whined.

"That's all right, scamp. Doing impressions takes practice. But it's more important for you to recognize words than to imitate voices when you first learn to read. Besides, practice makes perfect."

Harry nodded, his little face serious. Then he said, "I told Hermione that maybe she could come over and play, if you said yes. She wants to see Inky and meet you and Uncle Sirius, he is still here, right?"

"Yes, Sirius is still here. But you need to finish your homework before I let a friend come over."

"I know. But Hermione gave me her phone number so's I could call her and I wanted to invite Ron over too, okay?"

"We'll see," was all I said, for even though it was my day off, I wasn't sure if I wanted to spend the afternoon minding three rambunctious six-year-old's. Then I got a wicked devious idea. I wasn't the only adult in my house any more. There was no reason Sirius couldn't pitch in and help me watch the children, now was there? I smirked gleefully. He'd probably enjoy it, he acted like a six-year-old himself sometimes.

Harry charged into the house like a stampede of rampaging cattle, waking up the sleeping Inky and the dozing Sirius. "Hello, Inky! Hi, Uncle Sirius!" he shouted, running over to pet the cub and hug Sirius.

"Guess what? I met a girl who's a witch today. She's a new student and her name's Hermione."

"Oh? Is she cute?" asked Sirius, and I looked heavenward. Trust Black to make looks his number one priority. No wonder Melinda had kicked his arse out. He was still as juvenile now as he'd been when we were fourteen.

"I dunno. She's a girl," answered Harry, as if that explained everything. To a six-year-old, it probably did. "I asked Dad if she could come over, since she doesn't know anything about magic or wizards and neither do her parents. Some of the other girls were teasing her and they made her cry, but I told her she could be my friend if she wanted and that made her feel better."

Sirius looked very amused. "Looks like we have a little school romance here, hmmm?"

Harry looked horrified. "Eeeww! Yuck! I don't like her that way, Uncle Sirius. That mushy gross stuff's for grownups."

"Someday, little buddy, you may just change your mind," chuckled the Auror.

"Harry, homework," I reminded, for given the opportunity, my son would have talked to Sirius all afternoon without pausing for breath, he was such a little chatterbox. "Or else no friends come over," I added as he started to pout and whine.

"Okay, Dad," he grumbled, and went into the kitchen. I followed, to make sure he was actually working and not dawdling. A six-year-old could turn a simple thing like getting a glass of milk into an hour long production, as I had learned the hard way.

But my son, for once, was actually doing as he had been told and working on his math. I fixed him a quick snack, today it was a fruit cup and an oatmeal biscuit with a glass of milk. I preferred Harry drink milk over most juice and soda, even pumpkin juice had too much sugar and made my child way too hyper.

He looked up from the addition problems he was doing and said, "Thanks, Dad. I was dying of thirst."

I ruffled his hair. "When aren't you? I swear, Harry, sometimes I think you're part camel, the way you drink everything in sight." He was gulping his milk like there was no tomorrow. "Slow down, before you choke," I admonished.

He paused, then set the now nearly empty glass down and began to eat his snack. I refilled his glass, then returned to the den to read the rest of my chapter while Harry finished his homework. I figured I'd better finish it now, before my peaceful house was invaded by a bunch of loud noisy children. Well, at least Ron and Harry could be loud and noisy, I didn't know about Hermione yet. But that comes with the territory. I didn't expect my son to be perfect, the way my father had me, and every child is loud and noisy at some point, even the best behaved ones.

Some fifteen minutes later, Harry came in to show me his completed homework. I looked it over, made sure there were no glaring spelling errors and it was legible, then told him to put it away and give me Hermione's phone number. I needed to speak with her parents first, and I wondered if the little girl had went home and told her mum or dad all about Harry who was a wizard and so was his father.

I picked up the phone, I only had one because of my in-laws, they had been Muggles through and through, though very nice people. Henry and Violet, Lily's parents, were two of the few members of the Evans family that had welcomed me as Lily's second husband without qualms or sneering. It had been a tragedy when they had died, killed in a head on collision with a lorry on the highway. Then I unfolded the piece of paper and dialed the number to the Granger residence.

* * * * * *

Some twenty minutes later, the house was filled with the laughter and voices of three small children, as Ron, Harry, and Hermione all played some kind of tug-o-war with Inky, using the cub's long knotted rope. I had soon discovered that Hermione was a very polite and mannerly child, but alas, as Albus would say, the boys were corrupting her. I had no doubt that by the time her mother came to pick her up in two hours, she would be racing around shrieking at the top of her lungs like the other two. But at least they were keeping Inky occupied and out of trouble, and vice versa, so that was one good thing.

I had spoken briefly to Mrs. Granger, whose name was Jane, and she had asked me a few rather pointed questions about her daughter's emerging magical powers-such as when they would go away. My answer, that they wouldn't, didn't sit well with her, and I realized I needed to have a talk with both Grangers soon and educate them about their child's magic, before they made themselves and Hermione miserable trying to change the unchangeable.

Jane had eyed me up and down, I was wearing sensible khaki trousers and a blue pullover today and said softly, "Excuse me for being blunt, Mr. Snape, but you look perfectly normal, not like a-a wizard," she stumbled a bit over the word. "At all."

"And so I am perfectly normal." I said, biting my lip hard. "For a man and a wizard, just like your daughter, Mrs. Granger. I am simply a man who possesses, ah, an unusual talent, if you will, rather like an artist or a writer or a composer. If you'd like we can discuss this more later on."

"Yes, of course. I would like that very much." She looked me up and down again. "I must say, you really don't look the part."

"Today, I'm dressed in ordinary clothes, but I assure you, I wear white robes nearly every day," I told her, vastly amused. Muggles! If you didn't wear long purple robes and wear a pointed hat and carry a walking stick, then you weren't a wizard. They didn't realize that it was the magic that made the wizard-or the witch-not the label or the outfit. That was mere window dressing. "I am a wizard Healer, what you would call a doctor, and like your physicians I too wear a white uniform, most days."

"Really? And do you also have the panacea for all ills, Mr. Snape?"

"Don't I wish I did!" I laughed. "No, Mrs. Granger, even with magic, we Healers cannot cure everything. Death be not proud and comes for us all, Muggle and wizard alike. Though most of us do tend to have longer lifespans."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Because it takes longer to learn how to control one's magic," I answered, which was partially true. Controlling our gift took decades of practice, it did not end when you graduated Hogwarts, despite what the Ministry touted. But the other part of our longevity was that in turn, the magic extended our lifespan, so that an average wizard could and did live to be two hundred and sometimes even older. Albus was close to three hundred, I think. But somewhere around our middle fifties, we stopped appearing to age all that much, shave off the white beard and Albus would appear to be not much older than a middle-aged Muggle. It was yet another thing Muggles would resent us for, and so we took pains to conceal the truth from them. "Even so, we can and do die from disease and trauma just like the rest of you." I told her solemnly. Having the capability of living to two hundred did not mean all of us would reach it, look at my Lily, dead of lupus at twenty-four, and not all my skill and magic could save her. "We are not immortal, and a good thing too, else I would be out of a job. I would love to stay and explain things further to you, but I dare not leave three six-year-old's unattended for long."

"Right, and I shall speak more with you when I come to pick up Hermione. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Snape." She had smiled at me politely before getting in her car and driving off.

Yes, I would definitely need to sit down and have a long discussion about magic, so they didn't come to fear their daughter's emerging powers. I had never agreed totally with Ministry policy that the best way to combat Muggle fear was to hide ourselves away in plain sight. The best antidote to fear was knowledge, for then the unknown becomes the knowable, and loses much of its fear factor.

At the end of two hours, the children had exhausted themselves playing with Inky and Sirius, who transformed into his dog form and romped with them just like the overgrown playful puppy he was. Hermione was especially interested in his ability and questioned him nonstop about it, much to my amusement, until Jane arrived and rescued Sirius from her too curious child.

"I really wish I could stay and speak with you some more about, uh, magic, but I have a Dental Association Meeting to attend tonight, I quite forgot about it until I looked at my calendar, so we have to hurry home for supper."

"I understand. Perhaps we might discuss this at a more appropriate time?"

"Yes, why don't you bring Harry by our office, and let my husband give him a checkup this Friday? I have a few hours free inbetween patients, so we can discuss this more then. Is that all right?"

"I'll need to check my own schedule, but I shall call and let you know. And please, call me Severus."

"And you must call me Jane, and my husband is Walter. Thank you for having Hermione over." She turned to her daughter. "Mione, did you say thank you to Mr. Snape?"

"Yes, Mum. I'll see you in school tomorrow, Harry! Bye!" she waved at us through the car window as she got inside and shut the door.

"Bye!" Harry called, then looked up at me rather nervously. "Dad, I've never been to a dentist before."

"It's nothing to worry about, Harry," I reassured him. "Your teeth are fine. Now come on in and wash up for supper, we'll talk more about going to the dentist then. Did Sirius Floo Ron home?"

"Uh-huh. What's for dinner?"

"Shepherd's pie," I replied, then sent him into the house with a pat on the behind.

Over dinner that night, Harry asked me again what they did at the dentist. Before I could answer, Sirius, who'd never been to one in his life, chimed in with, "Why would you ever want to go to a Muggle dentist, Harry? Don't you know they stick needles in your mouth and I heard they drill holes in your teeth too."

My son looked like he was going to throw up after that little statement. "Dad? Is that true?"

I kicked Sirius hard under the table.

"Ow! What was that for, Sev?"

"For being the stupidest man on the damn planet!" I hissed in an undertone. "You're going to scare him to death, talking like that!"

"Hey, I was just repeating what I'd heard, is all."

"Oh? And where did you hear it from, some half-wit in Muggle Artifacts on the third floor of the Ministry?" I snapped. "They just study Muggle objects, they don't even attempt to interact with any Muggles at all, so they know as much about Muggles as you do, which is almost nothing."

Sirius bristled and snapped, "Well, excuse me all to hell if we can't all be like you Healer Half-blood!"

I would've snapped out a reply, but Harry tugged on my sleeve and whimpered, "Dad, if they stick needles in my mouth, I don't wanna go."

"Harry, listen to me. Uncle Sirius has never been to a dentist, so he has no idea what goes on there. But I have, and unless you have cavities, they don't need to give you a shot of Novacane. That's something to numb your mouth so when they go to fix your tooth, it doesn't hurt. But you don't have to worry about that, scamp, because you don't have cavities."

"What's a cavity, Dad?"

"It's when you get a hole in your tooth because it's rotting from eating too much sweets and drinking too much soda," I answered calmly. "That's why I don't let you eat sweets every day, Harry, and also why you brush your teeth and eat apples."

"Yeah, an apple a day keeps the doctor away," Sirius recited.

"Please, Black. Spare me the old wives tales," I groaned.

"But apples are good for you, Dad. You said so."

"Yes, but just eating apples won't prevent you from getting sick," I informed him.

"And too many will give you a really bad stomachache," Sirius added.

"He would know, since once he and James ate nearly an entire apple tree in Lily's backyard," I recalled.

"Really? Why?"

"It was a stupid schoolboy dare," said the Auror with a rueful smile. "Merlin, did we regret it afterwards. I had the worst case of indigestion ever, and you and Lily just laughed at us."

"Because I'd told you not to eat so many apples at once, and you thought I was kidding. So it served you right for not listening to me." I turned back to Harry. "He had the worst case of colic I'd ever seen, except on a horse. He kept wanting to curl up on the ground, his stomach hurt so bad."

"And you wouldn't let me," Sirius grumbled. "You kept making me walk all over."

"Sitting still is the worst thing when you've got cramps from indigestion," I told him. "It was a good thing Lily had some Muggle medicine in her house, so you weren't sick all night."

"That pink stuff, and it tasted awful," Sirius grimaced. "But not as bad as some of your potions, Sev."

"My awful tasting potions work, Sirius."

"How old were you, Padfoot?"

"Uh, I think we were eleven, right, Sev?"

"Yes. That sounds about right. It was the summer before our second year at Hogwarts."

"Was Moony there too?"

"No, I don't know where he was, but he wasn't there when that happened," answered Sirius, getting another helping of shepherd's pie.

I returned to our earlier topic of conversation. "Harry, all Mr. or Mrs. Granger will do is look in your mouth with some mirrors and see how many teeth you have coming in, or that are loose and maybe clean them a little with a special tooth cleaner."

"No needles? Or drills?"

"No. Now quit worrying, you'll turn your hair gray. Everything's going to be fine, trust me."

Harry looked uncertain, but then he nodded. "Okay." Then he resumed eating, satisfied that I knew what I was talking about.

I had never particularly liked going to the dentist myself, even though I'd never had a cavity either. I didn't like people poking and prodding inside my mouth, I had sensitive gums and teeth as a child, but I'd endured it, because if I'd pitched a fit like some other kids did, my father would've beaten me good. I'd of taken ten minutes of poking to a whipping with a belt any day of the week back then.

But I knew Harry had nothing to worry about. His teeth were straight and healthy, like my own.

For dessert we had apple pie a la mode, one of Harry's favorites, but he barely touched it.

"Something wrong, Harry?" I asked, wondering if Sirius's story about the apples had scared him into not eating them.

"I don't want to get any cavities," he murmured, putting down his fork.

"Harry, it's all right if you eat sweets in moderation," I chuckled. "Just remember to brush before bedtime and you won't have to worry about cavities."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Now eat the pie, son, before it gets cold and your ice cream melts," I ordered.

Harry happily attacked his dessert, and I gave a small bowl of milk to Inky, who was begging shamelessly at my feet.

Then, halfway through his slice, my son looked at Sirius with a devilish gleam in his eyes and said, "Better not eat too much apple pie, Padfoot, or else you'll end up with another stomachache. Then I'll get to tell you I told you so!"

Sirius just gaped at him for about ten seconds. Then he cried, "Why, you little devil!" and burst out laughing.

I did too, I couldn't help it. That's my Harry for you-the sly little scamp! It's anyone's guess where the Sorting Hat will put him when he goes to Hogwarts.

* * * * * *

Friday afternoon, we arrived early at the Grangers' office for our appointment and spent ten minutes in the waiting room until a room was free. Harry was nervous, I could tell by the way he fidgeted and nibbled his nails, a habit which I was unsuccessfully trying to break him of. He kept getting up and down and wandering about the room, looking at the chart of teeth and smiling toothbrushes and prints of a seascape on the wall. There was an elderly woman also there, and she kept giving Harry annoyed looks every time he started walking past her, the old crab.

Not wanting her to say something rude, I beckoned Harry over to me with a finger and he took the kids magazine he'd picked up off the table and came over to me. "Stop being so fidgety and sit here," I murmured, pulling him down on my knee. He wasn't all that tall for his age and he still fit comfortably in my lap.

"Dad, are you sure I'm not gonna get a shot? ‘Cause I only like shots when you give them, since yours don't hurt awfully."

"Yes, Harry, I'm sure," I said, for what seemed like the thousandth time. Oh, I could hex Sirius for mentioning that! "Now why don't we look at this magazine while we wait?" I suggested, anything to keep his mind off of needles, which normally did not frighten him. But in a strange situation, I supposed it was frightening, and in a way I wished I hadn't agreed to Jane Granger's suggestion. But it had seemed rude to refuse, seeing as I was also in the medical field, and it wouldn't kill Harry to let a Muggle dentist examine him.

We began to read the magazine, it was all about some cartoon tooth character named Timmy the Tooth and his fight against the evil Cavity Goon. Harry was enthralled and soon forgot all about possibly getting a needle. I thought it was a clever way to reassure nervous kids about seeing the dentist and gave the Grangers bonus House points for putting the magazine here.

The elderly lady was called and then it would be our turn next. Harry squirmed a bit and I settled him more comfortably against me, happy he still didn't mind being held. Soon enough he wouldn't want to snuggle like this, he'd think he was" too old" for such things, and my little one would be little no more. This July he would be seven-it was hard to believe that it had been five years ago that I had married Lily and adopted this messy-haired mischievous imp for my own. Where had the time gone? They grow up too fast, Sev. Before you know it, you'll be sending him off on the train to Hogwarts, whispered a little voice in the back of my mind. But for now I would cherish this moment, when he was still content to be my little one, and curl up in my lap for comfort.

Then the receptionist called, "Harry Potter, Dr. Granger will see you now."

"Come on, scamp," I whispered, replacing the magazine on the table. I went to set Harry down, but he clung to me and I decided it wasn't worth fighting to make him walk into the office and so I carried him.

The receptionist, a girl with long reddish hair and sparkling blue eyes, looked at us and said, "Is this your first time, honey?"

"Yeah," answered Harry, half his face buried in my shoulder.

"He's a little nervous," I told her.

"Aww, don't be, you'll do fine. Dr. Granger's a really nice man and he's funny too!"

"Does he give lollipops to kids who are good?"

The receptionist laughed. "Well, not sweets, but he does give you a surprise if you're good. You'll be good, right?" Harry nodded. "Just wait and see."

"I'm friends with Hermione." Harry told her.

"She's a sweetie, and too smart!" chuckled the receptionist, holding open the door of the exam room. "See you later, Harry!"

Dr. Granger was a medium-sized man with the same brown hair as his daughter's and bright hazel eyes. He looked to be about twenty-eight or twenty-nine, a few years older than I was. He was wearing the typical white coat and underneath it a shirt, tie, and light brown pants with comfortable shoes, a must in a profession where you're on your feet all day.

"Hello, Harry!" he greeted, holding out his hand for my son to shake. "Hermione says she had a wonderful time at your house the other day."

I nudged him lightly and whispered, "Manners please, Harry."

At that he quit hiding and sat up. I set him down and he shook Dr. Granger's hand like I'd taught him. "How do you do, sir? Did Hermione tell you I've got a baby panther named Inky?"

"She did indeed!" said Dr. Granger. "Beautiful creatures, panthers! One day I'll have to stop by and see him myself." He turned to me then. "I'm Walter Granger, and you must be Harry's dad." He held out a hand.

I took it and said, "Severus Snape, pleased to meet you. Did your daughter also mention that I am a wizard Healer and she, like my son, has magic?" I decided to come directly to the point, no sense in playing games here.

Walter nodded. "Yes, she did, which explains how you are able to raise a panther cub without permits and so forth."

"The panther was brought to life accidentally by my son," I explained. "It was originally a well-loved stuffed toy. Hermione tells me she had a similar experience with a few of her dolls, only none of them came to life, but were only animated for a time."

"Yes, I remember when that happened. Scared the dickens out of poor Janie. She thought she was going mad. She's not the sort who, uh, believes too much in mysticism, if you know what I mean. That's why she wants to speak with you, Mr. Snape." Then he turned to Harry. "Okay, sport, why don't we get you to sit up here in this big comfy chair?" he indicated the large leather padded chair, complete with a metal footrest. "This is your first time here, Harry, correct?"

"Yes sir. None of my teeth are rotten, so you don't have to give me a shot."

Dr. Granger chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind, Harry. Now, I need you to open up really wide, pretend you're a big old bullfrog that wants to catch two dozen flies." He pulled out a small metal tube with a mirror attached to one end and another type of magnifier with a light on the end of it. "I'll join you when I'm finished taking care of Harry's teeth," Walter informed me. "Meantime, let me see if Jane is finished with Mrs. Bard, so she can talk with you." He pushed a button on the wall and said, "Jane, Mr. Snape is here for your meeting," into a small metal box.

"She ought to be along shortly. Meanwhile, let's see how your teeth are doing, Harry. Open wide, please. Good job!" He bent over my son, looking and counting his teeth.

I remained a little ways away, observing and letting Harry know I was there, but not close enough that he would act up, some kids made a fuss when their parent was nearby. Harry was behaving very well, all things considered.

Jane came in from a connecting door, she had just finished with her patient and the smell of antiseptic clung to her from the solution she used to wash her hands. She gave me a rather relieved smile and drew me off to the far corner of the room so we could speak quietly.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here, Severus."

"You seem concerned. Did something happen last night with Hermione?"

"In a manner of speaking." She brushed a wisp of hair off of her forehead, straightening her white coat. She was wearing a black shirt and white pants of some kind of shimmery material and sensible black clogs. "Last night, Mione had another one of her . . .umm . . .episodes."

"Accidental magic, we call it. It happens to all children with the gift of magic, Jane, until they are eleven and attend Hogwarts School. You should be getting a letter from the Headmaster the summer before term starts on Hermione's eleventh birthday. It's an exclusive school and its students are selected by invitation only."

"You went there, I take it?"

"Yes, and so did my wife and many of my friends. Harry will as well once he is old enough. It is there that we teach the young wizards and witches control over their magic, there are strict rules governing the use of underage magic, and school-age wizards are not allowed to use magic outside of school, to prevent serious accidents and so forth. But every child with the gift has incidences of accidental magic during childhood, it's perfectly normal, though it can be a bit startling if you're not expecting it. What did Hermione do?"

"Well, I had asked her to, uh, put a dish away and forgot that those particular dishes went on the top of the cabinet, which was too high for her to reach. But instead of telling me, she just . . .made the dish float up and into the cabinet by itself! It was like-like watching one of those shows where the magician raises and lowers something by using nearly invisible wires, only there was no wire and . . .the plate just floated into the cabinet, neat as you please!" Jane put a hand over her heart. "It was-I was, I'm not used to dealing with this sort of-of witchy stuff, Severus. Nothing like this ever happened in my family before. I've tried to discover where she got these powers from, but neither Walter or I ever displayed any kind of weirdness like this."

"Jane, the magic your daughter has is not necessarily inherited. Sometimes it simply shows up in a family, regardless of blood or inclination. It's not genetically linked, if that's what you're thinking, although if you have two wizard parents the chances of you having magic as well is very likely. But it's not an absolute, because even in a pureblood wizarding family, a child can be born who has no magic at all. And we have no way of knowing why or how, magic is not something that follows precise rules, like mathematics." I cleared my throat softly and continued. "Magic has its own set of rules and we who practice it must learn them thoroughly, because if misused, magic can be dangerous."

"Yes, that's what worries me."

"You needn't be concerned so much now, Jane, children Hermione's age rarely have accidental magic that harms people. It's important that you and your husband understand that Hermione's magic is a part of her, it's not a phase or a momentary aberration that will go away as she gets older. You cannot make her stop using it either, or beat it out of her, because her magic is an integral part of her, like her hair color or eyes. A witch uses magic the way a fish uses gills, and it is something you must learn to accept. Hermione is a brilliant child, pretty and a credit to you, and her having magic doesn't detract from that." I was going to emphasize that point over and over, and hope it sunk in.

"I know that. But still . . .it's just so very . . .odd. I feel like I've stepped into the pages of a fairy tale." Jane remarked, coloring slightly.

"Yes, it can be a bit bewildering at first, especially since this is all new to you. However, please remember that Hermione has no control over what her magic does at this stage, her magic responds to strong emotions and desires, with unexpected results. Another thing you should consider is that your daughter is a witch, not a freak or unnatural. She has been given a great gift, a gift that should be cherished, not feared. It is very like someone having the gift for music, like Mozart, or art like DaVinci, only Hermione's talent lies in magic. If you look at it that way, magic won't seem so frightening."

Jane was quiet for a moment. Then she sighed and said, "I-I guess so. But it's going to take some getting used to. I never expected anything like this."

"Neither did Wolfgang Mozart's mother," I pointed out wryly, and she chuckled.

"Funny you should choose him as your example, since that's where Hermione is now, at her piano lesson." Then she frowned. "I'm not sure that I like the term witch. I keep picturing an evil old woman with warts and gray hair trying to steal children and eat them or something. Or one with green skin and a broom like the Wicked Witch of the West."

"Yes, unfortunately, witches have become stereotyped as evil wicked women through history by narrowminded men. Actually, the word witch simply means wise woman, and wizard is the male counterpart-a wise man. But in America they prefer to use the term sorceress or enchantress, since that disaster in Salem in the 1600's. However we do fly on broomsticks, but not chasing after little girls in flying houses. Brooms are used as recreation and transportation by us. Owls are used as messengers, to deliver the mail."

"Is it true you have a whole other world that exists beside this one?"

"Say rather, co-exists with this one, we are all around you, only you just can't see or hear us too well. That is the way our government, the Ministry of Magic in Britain, wishes it. Wizard and Muggle worlds and culture may touch, but don't mingle freely. Unless you're a half-blood like me and don't care."

"A half-blood?"

"The term means a person born to a wizard and Muggle. In my case, my father was a Muggle and my mother was a witch. So I grew up with the cultures of both worlds to draw upon." I explained. A child of a family with both wizard parents is considered a pureblood and a person with no magic born to wizard parents is called a Squib. And we call you who have no magic Muggles."

"Lord, my head is spinning!"

"I apologize, it is a bit much to take in all at once. I can leave you a book called Hogwarts: A History that explains our world in much greater detail and will help you to understand our world even better. But the most important thing you should learn from me, Jane, if you learn nothing else, is that Hermione's magic is a gift to be celebrated, not a curse to be feared. Yes, it is a thing that sets her apart from other children, but everyone has their own special talent, and we should celebrate our differences. Have I answered most of your questions?"

"Yes Severus, but I do want to know if there are any wizard criminals?"

"There are, but not as many as you think and most of those are locked up in the wizard prison called Azkaban. We have a similar society to your own, and we do occasionally marry outside of it, so you needn't think that I for one, feel you are beneath me."

She looked pleased at that, I told her about Floo Powder and Apparition and then Jane had to scrub up for another patient and Harry was finished too.

He slid down off the chair, smiling brightly and holding out a small satin blue bag and a little book. "Well, was it so terrible?"

"No. Dr. Granger said I could come back any time! Look, Dad! This's a bag to put my teeth in when I lose them, I put a tooth in it and stick it under my pillow, and then the Tooth Fairy comes and takes your tooth and gives you money in return. And this is the story of the Tooth Fairy," he waved the little package under my nose wildly.

"Oh, I see. Well, Harry, the next time you have a loose tooth, you may put it under your pillow. I'm glad you enjoyed your trip to the dentist, scamp."

"Me too." Then he yawned. "But I'm kinda tired, Daddy. I want to go home and take a nap." He held his arms up and I picked him up and then turned to Dr. Granger and asked how much I owed him.

"Nothing, Severus. It's a professional courtesy, since you're a doctor."

"Thank you, Walter. When it comes time for Hermione to have another check-up, please let me know and I'll return the favor." I said sincerely.

"Tell Mione I said hi and maybe she can come over again on Monday," Harry said, since he knew the weekends belonged to Tobias.

"I will, Harry, take care!"

Then I left the office, holding my son, and once we were out of sight of anyone, I Apparated us home, and put my son down for a much-needed nap. It had been a long day.

"So, how did it go?" asked Sirius, lounging nonchalantly against the couch in the den.

"Fine. I educated Jane Granger about magic and wizards and Harry got his teeth cleaned and got a prize from her husband and the Tooth Fairy just gained a new customer."

Sirius looked at me blankly. "Sev, what the hell's a Tooth Fairy?"

"Ask Harry when he wakes up, he'll be glad to explain it to you, Padfoot. Right now, I'm going to take a nap as well." I made a mental note to send a copy of Hogwarts: A History over to the Granger residence with my owl, Apollo, as soon as I woke up.

I settled back into the recliner and had just closed my eyes when I felt a familiar weight on my knees. I opened one eye and found a certain black panther curled on my lap. "Inky, why aren't you sleeping with Harry? You always sleep with him. Why are you insisting on sleeping on me?"

The panther purred lazily and stretched out. I sighed and closed my eyes again. Contrary little pest! Just like his master. But he kept me warm and his purr soon soothed me to sleep.